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From JULY to DECEMBER, 1810.
(BEING THE THIRD OF A NEW SERIES.)
PART THE SECOND.
PRODESSE ET DELECTARE.
E PLURIBUS UNUM.
By SYLVANUS URBAN, Gent.
LONDON: Printed by JOHN NICHOLS and SON,
where LETTERS are particularly requested to be sent, FOST-PALD.
ON COMPLETING THE SECOND PART OF VOL. LXXX.
URBAN, full well thy pleasing Volumes
How weeks, and months, and years revolving flow.
One week commenc'd, the days unheeded run;
A second comes, and lo! a third's begun. The fourth arrives; the month completed flies,
And thy lov'd page again salutes our eyes. Thus months on months successive pass away,
Years upon years, and bring our latest day.
Too sure, though distant hop'd, our turn must come,
To sleep, unconscious, in the silent tomb! But THOU for ever liv'st! Far-spreading Fame
To distant shores extends thy honour'd name;
Thy labours to th' extent of Time shall live,
And still Instruction, still Amusement give :
Our unborn sons thy pages shall explore,
For History, Science, and Heraldic Lore.
And free Discussions, candidly maintain'd. The Muse, well lov'd, her niche allotted fills,
And guides the streams from fam'd Parnassus' hills.
So rich, authentic, and well-stor❜d thy page,
"Twill serve to teach, to guide, and mend the age.
Were Fate to doom the writings of the Wise
To sink to earth, and never more arise, Thy Works would chase dull Ignorance away,
Renew the empire, and give back the day!
A monument more durable than brass, To shew posterity what URBAN was!
CHRISTMAS VERSES FOR 1810.
WITH rueful length of face in dingy
The Newsman scrambles on his annual hack:
Not the rich stream whose wafted odours
From ADAMS' door each passer in the street;
When fond anticipations of mince-pies Melt from the mouth, and glisten in the eyes;
Not the huge ox display'd in red and white At GRANT'S broad door, and stuck with hollies bright;
Not the shrill squeak of pigs, whose tuneful strife
Upbraids the market, and arraigns the knife;
Not all can cheer this melancholy time, Once usher'd in with revelry and rhyme. Affliction bows the Royal Father's head, And sickness chains him to a wakeful bed. Yet see, some flickering gleams of hope appear,
And still may gladness crown the festive
And does Massena in his mournful mood
Amuse the British Chief with Gallic blood?
The rains have sav'd him-or his host had met
The rough salute of Britain's bayonet; No longer curs'd the foe beyond their reach,
But learnt that lesson which they sought to teach :
Soon may the Fabian wile of brave delay Change to the valour of a well-fought day! Did I such themes of gladdening import bring,
The victor Wellesley, the recover'd King; With home-brew'd ale the tankard foaming o'er
Would send the Newsman hearten'd from your door.
Then let his hopes and wishes somewhat
The dearth of news is not the Newsman's blame.
Besides, whate'er the present, view the past;
What joy has fill'd his horn's triumphant
SECOND PART OF THE EIGHTIETH VOLUME.
Dec. 31, 1810.
WERE it permitted us to contrast to the spreading gloom in the Political hemisphere, the luminous splendour which still accompanies the Literary exertions of our Countrymen, we could not fail to impart to our Readers in general, some rays of Hope and Consolation. But we cannot disguise, nor do we wish to suppress, our emotions of Sensibility. Through a long continued series of years, through various changes, trials, and dangers, we have preserved and maintained a proud character for our steady Loyalty; we have invariably professed our devotion to our beloved Sovereign; and this, our eternal and immutable attachment, 13 far as in us lies, we would have descend to our Posterity. Our first emotions, therefore, in commencing our Literary exertions for the new year, are directed to our Monarch, and his present condition, his sorrows, and his sufferings. May the Almighty soon and effectually restore him to his People! May he be the instrument in the hand of a gracious Providence, to check, controul, and overcome the Ambition and the Tyranny of our implacable Adversary!
Let us now turn to a fairer and more enlivening scene.When we look back on the mass of materials in every province of Literature, which our numerous Friends and generous Patrons in the last year placed before us, we are impressed, as it becomes us to be, with the liveliest sensations of satisfaction and gratitude. There is no part of Literature, of Science, and of Art, which has not been explored for our use, and for the benefit of our Readers. The task of selecting from these materials, so comprehensive, and so various, has indeed been pleasing, but not without its difficulty.
renuis tu quod jubet alter.