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Absorbed in profound stupor, he reached the frontiers. There chance decreed that Laura's note, which had remained forgotten in his pocket, should fall into his hands. It contained the confirmation of the innocence of his wife.

He wrote a letter to Emily, which evidently bespoke the derangement of his senses. He bade adieu to her for ever, and the unfortunate man has not been heard of since. The effect of the catastrophe upon Laura was a premature delivery, and for a long time her recovery was despaired of. Emily wept day and night by the bed-side of her friend. That is the lady in the summer-house, who, lost in gloomy reverie, is tracing letters in the sand; and her pale companion, in deep mourning, whose tears never cease to flow, is Laura.

Thus did nine trivial and apparently innocent untruths, cost an excellent man his life, and plunge three estimable persons into inexpressible misery.

ART. VI.The Plate Warmer: A Poem. By the Right Ho

nourable John Philpot Curran.—From the New Monthly

Magazine
OF this jeu d'esprit (says the editor of the

work from which we extract the curious article,) from the pen of one of the most distinguished living ornaments of Ireland, incorrect copies have been circulated in that country. It has not to our knowledge appeared in any English publication; and we have therefore transferred it, as correctly given in a late number of Carrick's Morning Chronicle. We have been considerably puzzled to discover the real object of this poem; and indeed we suspect it has no object at all, -except it be to travestie the Homerian mythology. It is somewhat curious that the cloudcompelling' thunderer of Ireland, who has made no noise at all for so many years, should at length break silence in a ludicrous hudibrastic poem. Perhaps, however, it was an effusion of his youth;—and yet the poem appears to have originated in a mind thoroughly matured in classical learning. We shall copy the whole; for it is all worth reading.

IN days of yore, when mighty Jove, For queens themselves, when queens are frail, His queen except, ruled all above,

And forced for justest cause to rail, He sometimes chanced abroad to roam To find themselves at last betrayed, For comforts, often missed at home!

Will scold just like a lady's maid; For Juno, tho' a loving wife,

And thus poor Jove again is driven,
Yet loved the din of household strife;

Oh sad resource! to go to heaven.
Like her own peacocks proud and shrill, Downcast, and surfeited with freaks,
She forced him oft, against his will,

The crop-sick thunderer upward sneaks,
Hen-pecked and over-matched to fly,

More like a loser than a winner, Leaving her empress of the sky;

And almost like an earthly sinner; And hoping on our earth to find

Half quenched the lustre of his eyes; Some fair less vocal and more kind.

And lank the curl that shakes the skies; But soon the sire of men and gods

His donblet buttoned to his chin, Grew weary of our low abodes;

Hides the torn tucker folded in. Tired with his calendar of saints,

Scarce well resolved to go or stay, Their squalling loves, their dire complaints; He onward takes bis lingering way: VOL. IX.

10

And

For well he knows the bed of roses

For ere the vesper peal was done On which great Juno's mate reposes.

The viands were as cold as stone. At length to heaven's higl: porial come- This Venus saw, and grieved to see; No smile, no squeeze, 10 welcome home- For though she thought Jove rather free, With nose up tossed and bitter sneer

Yet at his idle pranks she smiled, She scowls upon her partner dear;

As wand'ringy of a heart beguiled; From mom till noon from noon to night, Nor wondered if astray he run, 'Twas still a lecture to the wight;

For well she knew her 'scape grace son, yet the morning, sooth to say,

And who can hope his way to find, Was far the mildest of the day:

When blind, and guided by the blind? For in those regions of the sky

Her finger to her brow she brought, The goddesses are rather shy

And gently touched the source of thought, To beard the nipping early airs,

The unseen fountain of the brain, And, therefore, come not soundown stairs; Where fancy breeds hershadowy train: But snugly wrapped, sit up and read,

The vows that ever are to last, Or take their chocolate in bed.

But witherere the lip they've past; So Jove his breakfast took in quiet,

The secret hope, the secret fear Looks there might be, but yet no riot; That heaves the sigh or prompts the tear; And had good store of list'ners come,

The ready turn, the quick disguise', It night have been no silent room;

That cheats the lover's watchful eyes. But she, like our theatric venches,

So froni the rock, the sorer's wand Loved not to play to empty benches.

The gushing waters can command; Her brows close iet in hostile forro,

So quickly started from her mind She heaves the symptoms of the storm: The lucky thought she wished to find. But yet the storm itself repressed,

Her mantle round he' then she threw, Labours prelasive in her breast;

Of twilight made, of modest hue; Reserved as mucic, for that hour

The warp by niother night was spun, When ev'ry male and female power

And shot athwart with beams of sun; Should crowd the festive board around, But beams first drawn thro' murhy air, With neciar or ambrosia crowned;

To spunge the gloss and dim the glare. In wreathed smiles and garlands dressed, Thus gified with a double charm, With Jove to share the gen'rous feast:

Like love, 'twas secret, and 'twas warm: 'Twas then the snowy-elbow'd queen

It was the very same she wore
Drew forth the stores of rage and spleen; On Simois' banks, when, long before,
'Twas ther the gathered storn she sped, The sage Anchises formed the plan
Full levelled at the thunderer's head.

Of that so brave and godly man,
In descant dire she chanted o'er

Whose faine o'ertop'd the topmast star, The tale so otten told before

For arts of peace and deeds of war;" His graceless gambols here on earth,

So famid for fighting and for praying, The secret meeting, secht birth;

For courting warm, and cool betraying; His country freaks in delis and valleys, Who showed poor Dido, all on fire, In town, o'er strands, and Cranbourne alleys; That Cyprus was not far from Tyre; Here lifts his burglar hand the latch

The founder of Hesperia's hopesThere scrambles through a peasant's thatch;

Sire of her demi-gods and popes. When such a prowling fox gets loose,

And now her car the Paphian queen What holiest man can keep his goose?

Ascends-her car of sea-bright green. Nur was the Theban feat iintold,

Her graces slim with golden locks Trinoctial feat, so famed of old;

Sits smiling on the dicky box: When highe, tbe pandar vigil kept,

While Cupid wantons with a sparrow, And Phebus snor'd as if he slept:

That perched upon the urchin's arrow. And then Europa, hateful name!

She gives the word, and through the sky, A god, a bull! On tie-for shame!

Her doves th'according pinions ply, When vagrant love can cost so dear,

As bounding thought, as glancing light, No wonner we've no nurs'ry here!

So swift they wing their giddy tight; No wonder, when imperial love

They pass the Wain, they pass the Sun; Can meanly hunt each paliry love;

The Comet's burning train they shun:
Sometimes on land, sometimes on water, Lightly they skim th' Ægean vast,
With this man's wife, and that man's daughter: And touch the Lemnian Isle at last.
If I must wear a matron willow,

Here Venus checks her winged speed,
And lonely pitss a barren pillow.

And sets them free to rest or feed; When Lda, tvo, thought fit to wander,

She bids her Graces sport ile while, She found her paramour a gander:

Or pick sweet posies round the Isle; And did his gousbip mount the nest?

Bui cautions them against mishaps, And take his turn to hatel and rest?

For Lemnos is the isle of traps. And did lie purvey for their food,

Beware the lure of vulgar toys, And mince it for the odious brood?

And fly from bulls and Shepherd boys.' The eagle winked, and drooped his wing, A cloud of smoke inat elimbs the sky, Scarce to the dusky bolt could cling,

Bespeuks the forge of Vulcan nigh; And look d as if he thought bis loru

Thither her way the Goddess beixis, A captain with a wooden sword;

Her darkling son her steps attends: While Juno's bird displayed on high

Led by the sigh that Zephyr breathes, The thousand eyes of jealousy.

When round her postate neck le wreathes, Hermes looked arch, and Venus leered, The plastic God of Fire is found; Minerva bridl. d, Momus snec red;

His various labours scattered round:Poor Hebe trenbled, simple lass!

Unfinished bars, and bolts, and portals, And spilt the wine and broke the glass. Cages for Gods, and chains for mortalsa Jove felt the weather rather rough,

'Twas iron work upon commission,
And thought long since't had blown enough. For a Romance's first edition.
His knite and fork unused were crossed,
His temper and his dinner lost;

Fama super ætherana

Soon as the beauteous queen he spied, Could'st thou not then, with skill divine,
A sting of love, a sting of pride,

For ev'ry cunning art is thinc,
A pang of shame, of faith betray'd,

Contrive some spring-some potent chain, By turns his lab'ring breast invade;

That might an angry tongue restrain? But Vinus quelled them with a smile,

Or find, at least, some mystic charm, That might a wiser God beguile:

To keep the suff'rer's viands warm?
'Twas mixed with shame, iwas mixed with love, Should great success thy toils befriend,
To mnis it with a blush she strove.

What glory must the deed attend!
With hobbling step he comes to greet What joy thro'all the realıns above-
The faithless guest with welcome meet. What higli rewards from grateful Jove!
Pyracmon saw the vanquished God,

How blessed! could I behold thee rise
And gives to Steropes the nod;

To thy lost station in the skies; [thought He winks to Brontes as to say,

How sweet! should vows, thou may'st have We may be just as well away:

Or lightly kept or soon forgot, 'They've got some iron in the fire,

Which wayward fates bad seemed to sever, So all three modestly retire.

Their knots re-tie, and bind for ever!'. * And now, sweet Venus, tell,' he cries,

She said, and sighed or seemed to sigh, "What cause has brought thee from the skies? And downward cast her conscious eye, Why leave the seats of mighty Jove?

To leave the God more free to gaze; -
Alas! I foar it was not love.

Who can withstand the voice of praise!
What claim to love could Vulcan boast, By beauty charmed, by Nati'ry won,
An outeast on an exile coast;

Each doubt, each jealous fear is gone;
Condemned, in this sequester'd isle,

No more was bow'd his anxious head, To siok beneath unseemly toil?

His heart was cheered, he smiled, and said; 'Tis not for ine to lead the war,

* And could'st thou vainly hope to find Or guide the day's refulgent car;

A power the female tongue to bind? "Tis not for me the dance to twine;

Sweet friend! 'twere easier far to drain, 'Tis not for me to count the nine;

The waters from th' unruly main, No vision whispers to my dream;

Or quench the stars,or bid the sun No muse inspires my wakeful theme;

No more his destined courses run. No string responsive to my art,

By laws, as old as earth or ucean, Gives the sweet note that thrills the heart: That tongue las a perpetual motion, The present is with gloom vercast,

Which marks the longitude of speech; And sadness feeds upon the past

To curb ies force no power can reach; Say, then; for ah! it can't be love,

Its privilege is raised above What cause has brought thee from above? The sceptre of imperial Jove. So spoke the God, in jealous mood,

Thine other wish, some mystic charm The wily goddess thus prsued:

To keep the suit"rers viands warm, * And can'st thou, Vulcan, thus decline

I know no interdict of fate, The meeds of praise so justly thine?

Which says that art mayn't warm a plate. To whom, the fav'rite son of heav'n,

The model, too, I've got for that, The mystie powrs of fire are givin;

I take it from thy gipsey hat; 1 hat fire that feeds the star of night,

I saw thee thinking o'er the past, And fills the solar beam with light;

I saw thine eye-beam upward cast, That bids th“ stream of life to glow

I saw the concave catch the ray, Through air, o'er earth, in depths below: And turn its course another way, Thou deignest not to court the nine,

Rellected back upon thy cheek, Nor yet the mazy dance to twine;

It glowed upon the dimple sleek.' But these light gifts of verse and song,

The willing task was soon begun, To humbler natures must belong:

And suon the grateful labour done. Hehold yon oak, that seems to reign

The ore, obedient to his hand,
The monarch of the subject plain;

Assumes a shape at his command:
No flowers bheath his arms are found, The tripod base stands firm below,
To bloom, and fing their fragrance round: The burnished sides ascending grow;
Alashed, in lis o'erwhelming shade

Divisions apt th’interior bound,
Their scents must die, their leaves must fade. With vaulted roof the top is crowned.
Thou dost not love thro' wastes of war

The artist, amorous and vain, Headlong to drive th' ensanguined car, Delighes the structure to explain: And sheep whole niillions to the grave;- To show bow rays converging meet. Tbine is the nobler art to save.

And light is gathered into heat.
Formed by thy band the teinpered shield Within its verge le flings a rose,
Safe brings the warrior from the field;

Behold now fresh and fair it glows:
Ah! could'st thou then the mother see; O'erpowered by heat now see it waste.
Her ev'ry thought attached to thee!

Like vanished love, its fragrance past!
Not the light love that lives a day,

Pleased with the gift, the Paphian queert Whiel its own sighs can blow away

Remounts her car of sea-bright green. But fixed and fervent in her breast,

The gloomy God desponding sighs, The wish to make the blesser blessed.

To see her car ascend the skies, Then give thy splendid lot its due,

Anii strains its lessening form to trace, And view thyself as others view.

'Till sight is lost in nisty space; Great sure thou art, when from above

Then sulen yields his clouded brain, I core a supplicant for Jove;

To converse with habitual pain. For Jove himself lainents like thee

The Goddess now arrived above, To find no fate from suff“ring free.

Displays the shining gift of love, Dire is the strife when Juno rails,

And shows fair Hebe how to lay And fierce the din his ear assails;

The plates of gold in order gay. In vain the festive board is crowned,

'The Gods und Goddesses admire No joys at that sad boarii are found;

The labour of the God of fire, And when the storm is spent at last,

And give it a high-sounding name, The dinner's cold, and Jove must fast.

Such as might hand it down to fame

If 'twere to us, weak mortals, given

Meantime from Jove's high tenendent,
To know the names of things in Heaven. To auction every thing is sent.
But on our sublunary earth

Oh grief! to auction here below!
We have no words of noble birth;

The gazing crowd admire the show; And even our bards, in loftiest lays,

Celestial beds, imperiul screens, Must use the populace of phrase.

Busts, pictures, lustres, bright tureens. However called it may have been,

With kindling zeal the bidders vie, For many a circling year 'twas seen

The dupe is spurred by puffer sly;
To glitter at each rich repast,

And many a splendid prize, knocked down,
As long as Heaven was doomed to last. Is sent to many a part of town,
But faithless lord, and angry wife

But all that's most divinely great,
Repeated faults; rekindled strife

Is borne to 's in street. Abandoned all domestic cares

Th' enraptured owner loves to trace To ruin sunk their scorn'd affairs:

Each prototype of heavenly grace; Th' immortals quit the troubled sky,

In every utensil can find, And down for rest and shelter fly.

Expression, gesture, action, mind, Some seek the plains, and some the woods, Now burns with gen'rous zeal to teach And some the brink of foaming floods:

That love which he alone could reach; Venus, from grief religious grown,

And gets, lest pigmy words might flag, Endows a meeting-house in town;

A glossary from Brobdignag:
And Hermes fills the shop next door

To preach in prose or chant in rhyme,
With drugs far brought, a healthful store! Of furniture the true sublime;
What fate the Graces fair befel,

And teach the ravished world the rules
The Muse has learned, but will not tell. For casting pans, and building stools.
To try and make afflictions sweeter,

Poor Vulcan's gift among the rest, Momus descends and lives with Peter," Is sold and decks a mortal feast. Tho' scarcely seen the external ray,

Bought by a goodly Alderman, With Peter all within was day:

Who loved his plate and loved his can, Por there the lamp, by nature given,

And when the feast his worship slew, Was fed with sacred oil from Heaven.

His lady sold it to a Jew. Condemned a learned rod to rule,

From him by various chances cast, Minerva keeps a Sunday school.

Long time from hand to hand it past;With happier lot the God of day,

To tell them all would but prolong To Brighton wins his minstrel way;

The ling'ring of a tire some song; There come, a master-touch he fings,

Yet still it looked as good as new, With flying land across the strings;

Tbe wearing proved the fabric true. Sweet flow the accents soft and clear,

Now mine, perhaps, by Fate's decree, And strike upon a kindred ear.

Dear Lady RS, I send it thee. Admitted soon a welcome guest,

And when the giver's days are told, The God partakes the royal feast;

And when his ashes shall be cold, Pleased to escape the vnlgar throng,

May it retain its pristine charm, And find a judge of sense and song.

And keep with thee his mem'ry warm! • Dr. Waleott, better known as Peter Pindar.

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ART. VII.-1. An Essay on Provident or Parish Banks, &c.

By Barber Beaumont, Esq. F.A.S. Managing Director of the Provident Institution and County Fire Office, and one of his majesty's justices of the peace for Middlesex. 8vo. pp. 70. Cadell

' and Davies. 1816, 2. An Essay on the Nature and Advantages of Parish Banks for the Savings of the Industrious, &c. By the Rev. Henry Duncan. Ruthwell. 8vo. pp. 115. 2s. Edinburgh, Oli

phant and Co., London, Hatchard. 1816. 3. A Plan for a County Provident Bank, &c. By · Edward

Christian, of Gray's Inn, Esq. Barrister, Professor of the

Laws of England, &c. &c. 8vo. pp. 88. Clarke and Son. 4. Reasons for the Establishment of Saving Banks, with a

Word of Caution respecting their Formation. 12mo. pp. 28. 6d. Richardson.--From the Monthly Reviews A

NEW undertaking seldom acquires at once all the simpli

city of which it is susceptible; for it is a curious fact that we find it a matter of much greater time and difliculty to disentangle a plan from superfluous accompaniments, than to form the first conception of it, or to sketch its fundamental outlines. The Bank of England itself was encumbered, for many years after the grant of its charter, with schemes of advancing money on the deposit of goods, and with a vain attempt to mix the business of a mercantile with that of a money establishment. In the present instance, some errors of a similar kind have occurred, first in the case of the undertaking called the London Provident Institution, and next in the first parish-bank founded by the Rev. H. Duncan of Ruthwell in Scotland: but the degree of inconvenience resulting from either has been trifling; and we may now consider ourselves as having attained, in the Edinburgh savings-banks, a plan of almost as great simplicity as the object can well admit.

1. We shall proceed, then, without farther preamble, to pass in review the different tracts; beginning with that of Mr. Beaumont, who has a title to precedence on more grounds than one. He was the person who in 1806 projected the Provident Institution in our metropolis, calculated its tables, and conducted its affairs from the outset; and he commences his pamphlet with a short notice of the attempts made in former years to introduce such establishments by act of parliament. After having recapitulated the regulations of the institution just mentioned, he explains those of the parish-bank of Ruthwell in Scotland, which dates from 1810, and was one of the earliest models of those repositories that have of late engaged such general attention:-next, he takes notice of a similar association, on a somewhat different plan, founded two years ago at Edinburgh;after which we have the regulations of the Provident Institution of Bath, and of a corresponding establishment at Southampton.

This brief history of institutions for rendering early savings available for the supply of future wants would be very incomplete, if it were not to take notice of a description of provision against casualties, and for old age, of a very comprehensive nature, and most extensive application, viz. Friendly or Benefit Societies. These societies, extending to every town in Great Britain, and abounding in every quarter of the metropolis, propose to indemnify the early economist against almost every ill that can happen to his corporeal existence; and to anticipate every want to the supply of which his early savings are applicable. In these societies not only are the visitations of ill health, and the pressure of old age provided for, but relief is frequently offered in cases of insolvency-when in want of work-on accidents by fire-to provide substitutes if drawn for the militia--on the birth of a child or the decease of any part of the member's family. Various acts of parliament have given encouragement to these societies: and

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