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THE DEAD FAWN.

BY THE REV. RICHARD CATTERMOLE.

SHE knelt upon the flowery turf

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Where oft its airy step' had stray'd, When, light as snow or ocean-surf,

That step scarce bow'd the pliant blade; Now, sad the change! each agile limb

Was stiffen'd with death's fatal frost, Its bright dark eye was film'd and dim, Its bounding bosom's pulse was lost. Ah! who may blame the lavish grief Of woman, rich in youthful tears, That saddens at a perish'd leaf,

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And weeps wherever death appears;
That o'er a fallen sparrow' hangs,
Like statued sorrow, wailingly,
As, while the last shaft sternly clangs
O'er her last child, lost Niobe?

Life is a high and holy thing,

Even in the meanest form that breathes;

And human love will tendrils fling
Liberally (as the ivy wreathes
Marble and clay, in one embrace,)

O'er all that, on this beauteous earth,

In life displays the faintest trace

Of that from whence it took its birth.

It is allow'd to mortals here,

To mourn the loss of things that die, Never again to re-appear,

The gaudy creatures of the sky, Born to ephemeral life-the birds

That fall in their melodious pride;

Man's household friends, the nobler herds :

They have no after-life beside.

But when earth's paragon turns pale,
And darkling drops into the grave;
Methinks the pious should not wail-

Such tears more shame the good, than brave:

If those we love were lost for aye,
Would tears avail or us, or them?
If they survive in brighter day,
There's mockery in each watery gem.
The maid of whom the tale is told,

Who from her murder'd lover's head
Rais'd flowers, and in that fearful mould
Water'd them with the drops she shed-
The widow'd queen,t who watch'd beside
Her breathless lord, while moons wan'd slow ;—
That maid from earthly passion sigh’d,—
That queen from madness, more than woe.
The Christian by a brother's bier

Will muse on death's solemnities,
With heart, too trustful for a tear,

Too chasten'd for a deep surprise:
It is when those fair creatures fall
Whose joy in life is keen as ours,
While earthly life to them is all,
His uncheck'd pity drops its showers.
Then blame her not-day after day
She nurs'd affection in its eye,
Delighted with its pauseless play,
And quite forgetful it might die.
So lovely was that feeling shown,

As o'er her favourite, dead, she bent,
The sternest moralist might own

That grief like hers was innocent.

EXTRACTS FROM THE COMMON-PLACE BOOK OF A LITERARY LOUNGER.-NO. VIII.

ANECDOTE OF SWIFT.

SWIFT, Arbuthnot, and Parnell, who were all contemporaries and intimates of Lord Bathurst, took the advantage of a fine frosty morning to walk down to a little place his lordship had about eleven miles from Alluding to the well known tale in the Decameron.

↑ The mother of the Emperor Charles V.

town. When they were about half way, Swift, who was remarkable for being an old traveller, and getting the best room and warmest bed, pretended he did not like their pace, and said he would walk on before, and inform his lordship of the journey. This they agreed to, but he was no sooner out of sight than they, judging his errand, sent off a horseman by a bye way, to inform his lordship of the particulars. The man got there time enough to deliver his message, when his lordship, recollecting Swift never had the smallpox, thought of the following device. When he saw him coming up the avenue, he ran out to meet him, expressing his happiness at seeing him, but said he was mortified at one circumstance, as it must deprive him of the pleasure of his company, and that was, that a raging smallpox was in the house, but begged he would accept such accommodations as a little house at the bottom of the avenue would afford. Swift was necessitated to comply, and in this lonesome situation, afraid to speak to any one around him, he was served with dinner. In the evening, however, the wits thought proper to release him, by going down in a body to inform him of the deception, and that the fifth best room and bed in the house were at his service. Swift, however he might be inwardly mortified, thought it his interest to join in the laugh; when they all adjourned to the mansion, and spent the evening in a manner that can be very well conceived by those who are in the least acquainted with the brilliancy of their characters.

A HINT FOR THE ROYAL ACADEMY.

A singular custom prevailed in the city of ancient Thebes, which was, that the painter who exhibited the worst picture was subjected to a fine.

CARRIAGES AND SEDAN CHAIRS.

It was towards the latter end of the reign of Elizabeth that coaches were first introduced into England. The Earl of Arundel was the first who rode in one. Prior to this, the queen always rode, on the same horse, behind the lord chamberlain. In the reign of James,

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