"From what far land the queen of Sheba came;
"Who Salem's priest, and what his father's name;
"He made the Song of Songs its mysteries yield,
"And revelations to the word, reveal'd.

"He sleeps i' the aisle, --- but not a stone records
"His name or fame, his actions or his words:-
"And truth, your reverence, when I look around,
"And mark the tombs in our sepulchral ground,

(Though dare I of not one man's hope to doubt,) "I'd join the party who repose without.

"Next came a Youth from Cambridge, and in truth, "He was a sober and a comely youth; "He blush'd in meekness as a modest man, "And gain'd attention ere his task began : "When preaching seldom ventur'd on reproof, "But touch'd his neighbours tenderly enough. "Him, in his youth, a clamorous sect assail'd, "Advis'd and censured, flatter'd,—and prevailed."Then did be much his sober hearers vex, "Confound the simple, and the sad perplex; "To a new style his reverence rashly took; "Loud grew his voice, to threat'ning swell'd his look ; "Above, below, on either side, he gaz'd, "Amazing all, and most himself amaz'd: "No more he read his preachments pure and plain, "But launch'd outright, and rose and sank again ; "At times he smil'd in scorn, at times he wept, "And such sad coil with words of vengeance kept, "That our best sleepers started as they slept.

Conviction comes like lightning,' he would cry; { "In vain you seek it; and in vain you fly;

'Tis like the rushing of the mighty wind,
Unseen its progress, but its power you find;
It strikes the child ere yet its reason wakes;
His reason fled, the ancient sire it shakes;

"The proud, learn'd man, and him who loves to know
How and from whence these gusts of grace will blow,
' It shuns,—but sinners in their way impedes,
And sots and harlots visits in their deeds;

"Of faith and penance it supplies the place; Assures the vilest that they live by grace,

And, without running, makes them win the race. "Such was the doctrine our young prophet taught; "And here conviction, there confusion wrought: "When his thin cheek assum'd a deadly hue, "And all the rose to one small spot withdrew

1

They call'd it hectic, 'twas a fiery flush,
"More fix'd and deeper than the maiden blush;
His paler lips the pearly teeth disclos'd,
And lab'ring lungs the length'ning speech oppos'd.

"No

"No more his span-girth shanks and quiv'ring thighs,
"Upheld a body of the smaller size;
"But down he sank upon his dying-bed,

"And gloomy crotchets fill'd his wandering head.
"Spite of my faith, all-saving faith, he cried,
"I fear of worldly works, the wicked pride;
Poor as I am, degraded, abject, blind,

"The good I've wrought still rankles in my mind;
My alms-deeds all, and every deed I've done,
"My moral-rags defile me every one;

66 6 It should not be what say'st thou tell me, Ralph,'
"Quoth I, Your reverence, I believe, you're safe;

66

Your faith's your prop, nor have you pass'd such time,
"In life's good-works as swell them to a crime.-
"If I of pardon for my sins were sure,
"About my goodness I would rest secure.'

"Such was his end; and mine approaches fast ;
"I've seen my best of preachers, and my last."
He bow'd, and archly smil'd at what he said,
Civil but sly: --- And is old Dibble dead?'
Yes! he is gone: and we are going all;
Like flowers we wither, and like leaves we fall:
Here, with an infant, joyful sponsors come,
Then bear the new-made Christian to its home:
A few short years and we behold him stand
To ask a blessing, with his bride in hand:
A few, still seeming shorter, and we hear
His widow weeping at her husband's bier:
Thus, as the months succeed, shall infants take
Their names, while parents them and us forsake;
Thus brides again and bridegrooms blithe shall kneel,

By love or law compell'd their vows to seal,

Ere I again or one like me, explore

These simple annals of the VILLAGE POOR.

BEACHY HEAD.

[From Mrs. CHARLOTTE SMITH'S MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.]

N thy stupendous summit, rock sublime!

That o'er the channel rear'd, half way at sea.

The mariner at early morning hails,

I would recline; while Fancy should go forth,
And represent the strange and awful hour
Of vast concussion; when the Omnipotent
Stretch'd forth his arm, and rent the solid hills,
Bidding the impetuous main flood rush between

The

The rifted shores, and from the continent
Eternally divided this green isle.

Imperial lord of the high-southern coast!
From thy projecting head-land I would mark
Far in the east the shades of night disperse,
Melting and thinned, as from the dark blue wave
Emerging, brilliant rays of arrowy light

Dart from the horizon; when the glorious sun
Just lifts above it his resplendent orb.
Advances now, with feathery silver touched,
The rippling tide of flood; glisten the sands,
While, inmates of the chalky clefts that scar
Thy sides precipitous, with shrill harsh cry,
Their white wings glancing in the level beam,
The terns, and gulls, and tarrocks seek their food,
And thy rough hollows echo to the voice,
Of the gray choughs, and ever-restless daws,
With clamour not unlike the chiding hounds,
While the lone shepherd, and his baying dog,
Drive to thy turfy crest his bleating flock.

The high meridian of the day is past,
And Ocean now, reflecting the calm Heaven,
Is of cerulean hue; and murmurs low
The tide of ebb, upon the level sands.
The sloop, her angular canvas shifting still,
Catches the light and variable airs
That but a little crisp the summer sea,
Dimpling its tranquil surface.

Afar off,

And just emerging from the arch immense
Where seem to part the elements, a fleet
Of fishing vessels stretch their lesser sails;
While more remote, and like a dubious spot
Just hanging in the horizon, laden deep,"
The ship of commerce richly freighted, makes
Her slower progress, on her distant voyage,
Bound to the orient climates, where the sun
Matures the spice within its odorous shell,
And, rivalling the gray worm's filmy toil,
Bursts from its pod the vegetable down;
Which in long turban'd wreaths, from torrid heat
Defends the brows of Asia's countless casts.
There the earth hides within her glowing breast
The beamy adamant and the round pearl
Enchased in rugged covering; which the slave,
With perilous and breathless toil, tears off
From the rough sea-rock, deep beneath the waves.
These are the toys of Nature; and her sport
Of little estimate in Reason's eye:
And they who reason, with abkorence see..

Man, for such gaudes and baubles, violate
The sacred freedom of his fellow man-
Erroneous estimate! As Heaven's pure air,
Fresh as it blows on this aërial height,
Or sound of seas upon the stony strand,
Or inland, the gay harmony of birds,
And winds that wander in the leafy woods;
Are to the unadulterate taste more worth
Than the elaborate harmony, brought out
From fretted stop, or modulated airs-
Of vocal science-So the brightest gems,
Glancing resplendent on the regal crown,
Or trembling in the high-born beauty's ear,
Are poor and paltry, to the lovely light
Of the fair star, that as the day declines,
Attendant on her queen, the crescent moon,
Bathes her bright tresses in the eastern wave.
For now the sun is verging to the sea, de
And as he westward sinks, the floating clouds
Suspended, move upon the evening gale,
And gathering round his orb as if to shade
The insufferable brightness, they resign

Their gauzy whiteness; and more warm'd, assume
All hues of purple. There, transparent gold
Mingles with ruby tints and sapphire gleams,
And colours, such as Nature through her works
Shews only in the ethereal canopy.
Thither aspiring Fancy fondly soars,
Wandering sublime thro' visionary vales,
Where bright pavilions rise, and trophies fann'd
By airs celestial; and adorn'd with wreaths
Of flowers that bloom amid elysian bowers.
Now bright and brighter still the colours glow,
Till half the lustrous orb within the flood
Seems to retire: the flood reflecting still
Its splendour, and in mimic glory drest;
Till the last ray shot upward, fires the clouds
With blazing crimson; then in paler light,
Long lines of tenderer radiance, lingering yield
To partial darkness; and on the opposing side
The early moon distinctly rising, throws
Her pearly brilliance on the trembling tide.
The fishermen, who at set seasons pass
Many a league off at sea their toiling night,
Now hail their comrades, from their daily task
Returning, and make ready for their own,
With the night tide commencing :-The night tide
Bears a dark vessel on, whose hull and sails
Mark her a coaster from the north. Her keel

Now ploughs the sand; and sidelong now she leans,

While with lond clamour her athletic crew
Unload her; and resounds the busy hum
Along the wave-worn rocks. Yet more remote,
Where the rough cliff hangs beetling o'er its base,
All breathes repose; the water's rippling sound
Scarce heard; but now and then the sea-snipe's cry
Just tells that something living is abroad;
And sometimes crossing on the moon bright line,
Glimmers the skiff, faintly discern'd awhile,
Then lost in shadow.

Contemplation here,
High on her throne of rock, aloof may sit,
And bid recording Memory unfold
Her scroll voluminous-bid her retrace

The period, when from Neustria's hostile shore
The Norman launch'd his galleys, and the bay
O'er which that mass of ruin frowns even now
In vain and sullen menace, then received
The new invaders; a proud martial race,
Of Scandinavia the undaunted sons,

Whom Dogon, Fier-a-brass, and Humfroi led
To conquest: while Trinacria to their power
Yielded her wheaten garland; and when thou,
Parthenope! within thy fertile bay

Receiv'd the victors.

In the mailed ranks
Of Normans landing on the British coast
Rode Taillefer; and with astounding voice
Thunder'd the war song daring Roland sang
First in the fierce contention: vainly brave,
One not inglorious struggle England made-
But failing, saw the Saxon heptarchy
Finish for ever. Then the holy pile,
Yet seen upon the field of conquest, rose,

Where to appease Heaven's wrath for so much blood,
The conquerer bade unceasing prayers ascendy

And requiems for the slayers and the slain.

But let not modern Gallia form from hence

Presumptuous hopes, that ever thou again,
Queen of the isles! shalt crouch to foreign arms.
Th' enervate sons of Italy may yield;
And the Iberian, all his trophies torn,

And wrapp'd in Superstition's monkish weed,
May shelter his abasement, and put on
Degrading fetters. Never! never thou!
Imperial mistress of th' obedient sea;
But thou, in thy integrity secure,
Shalt now undaunted meet a world in arms.
England! 'twas where this promontory rears
Its rugged brow aboye the channel wave,

Parting