EUONYMUS says, "I regret that Mr. Rudge (p. 322) should be offended at my attempt to put Christian advocates, upon their guard against a practice which I consider as unfriendly to the cause of Sacred Truth. I meant not to say any thing captious or disrespectful. I wrote under the influence of a habit I have formed, of strictly scrutinizing testimonies to Scriptural facts, that I may never be in danger of presenting a weak and undefended part to any champion of Infidelity. I am happy to find that my remarks have not been useless; and in the spirit of the Religion that I venerate, I will meekly endure the indignity of being written down an Ass' by one who knows me not."

EUONYMUS also inquires after JAMES SERCES, Vicar of Appleby, Lincolnshire, who published in 1729 "Traité sur les Miracles, &c." and of whom he can find no Biographical notices.

VIGILIUS asks where authentic account can be found of those smaller Religious Houses in England which were dependant on the Norman Convents during the Era of the connexion of England with France?-Answer, In the " History of the Alien Priories."

ANTI-SOCINUs remarks, that "about the year 1786, a Pamphlet, entitled 'A Plan of Coalition and Alliance with the Unitarian Church,' excited considerable notice. The Author was at the time (and has I believe ever since remained) unknown; although report has attributed it to the pen of a distinguished polemic Writer."-He proceeds, "As the subject of this spirited Tract applies even now with particular force to some popular and but too prevalent errors in the Christian Church, I cannot but express an anxious interest to learn, to whom the friends of the Establishment were really indebted for this humourous confutation of the views of a Party which has been, with more ostentation than accuracy, termed that of the RATIONAL CHRISTIANS.

J.G. says, he has read with indignation the subjoined passage in vol. 11. of "Melanges Philosophiques, &c." of Voltaire. He has no doubt of the falsehood of the charge; but should be glad, for the honour of his country, to see a refutation of it. Translation. In my youth I had thought that Newton had made his fortune by his extraordinary merit. I had supposed that the Court and City of London had nominated bim by acclamation Master of the Mint. No such thing. Isaac Newton had a very amiable Niece, called Madame Conduit, who was in high favour with the Lord Treasurer Halifax. The calculation of

Infinitude and the doctrine of Gravity would have availed him nothing without a handsome Niece."

F. B. A. requests information respecting the representatives of the Killegrews. CASSANNE says,-"Your description of the late Countess of Uxbridge, mother of the gallant Marquis of Anglesey, is somewhat erroneous (see page 284); Her ladyship was, Jane Champagne, eld. est daughter of Arthur Champagne, Dean of Clonmacnois, in Ireland; her ladyship was great granddaughter of Arthur Forbes, the second Earl of Gra nard (not granddaughter), by the marriage of her paternal grandfather, Major Josias Champagne, of Portarlington, in the Queen's County, with the Lady Jane Forbes, eldest daughter of the Earl. The Countess of Uxbridge had five sisters, viz. Mrs. Stepney, of Durrow, in the King's County: Lady Desvoeux; Mrs. Close; Miss Champagne; and Lady Borrowes."

D.T. who remarks that "there is a Scotch song, entitled There is my thumb, I'll ne'er beguile thee," observes, "It is well known to every Antiquary of that Country, that, as a confirmation of an agreement, the parties, in the presence of their neighbours, crossed, their thumbs, which evidence was as legal as any of our forms of law; as a Jew used to cast off his shoe, and give it to his neighbour. It was a pledge or bond of agreement. In Hebrew this very same term, almost similarly expressed, Prothom, signifies an account or re lation of an affair, or trust, to a person in authority.' The similarity of the application is apparent, and the derivative probable. If it should appear that this etymology is just, it will perhaps assist to confirm the opinion of the strict analogy, in many of their terms, of the Hebrew and English tongues."

Mr. CHAMBERLIN believes that the Song inquired after in the Second Part of our last Volume, p. 448, will be found set to Music in a National Spectacle, or Interlude, called "True Blue, or the Press Gang," in which in his early days he remembers seeing the late Mr. Reinhold perform the part of the Lieutenant employed to press into the service the Lover, to whose character the first Stanza is appropriated, calling forth from the Girl he is destined to part with, the Second Stanza as a reply.

We shall gladly enroll MARCUS in our Loyal Corps of LITERARY Volunteers.

ONE OF THE PACK; J, H. S.; RICHARD ROE; Z. X. on "Awliscombe;" &c. &c. in our next; with a LAURENTIAN, whose former communication was excluded on account of its satirical allusions. SELECT

Mr. URBAN, May 4. IN addition to the Translation of Mr. Warton's elegant lines on Sleep in p. 256, I send you three others; the first by Dr. Wolcot, the second by Mr. Mev

*The French have a great talent for writing Epigrams; and many of our Countrymen have plundered them without acknowledgement. Prior himself is one of these borrowers, as in his Epigram of, "O no, for my Virginity," &c. and others, generally admired as original. More may be said on this at some future opportunity. The French, however, borrow from us, as largely, in return,

ler, and the third an attempt by one (before he had seen either of the foregoing) who subscribes himself your young friend and constaut Reader, F.

By Dr. WOLCOT.

Come, gentle Sleep, attend thy votary's prayer, [repair: And, tho' Death's image, to my couch How sweet! thus lifeless, yet with life to lie!

[die,!"

Thus, without dying, oh! how sweet to

By Mr. MEYLER.

Emblem of Death! come, soothing, balmy

Sleep,

[creep;

Friend of my pillow! o'er my eyelids Soft let me slumber, gently breathing, sigh,

Live without life, and without dying die!

By

Come, gentle Sleep! tho' picture of the

dead,

Be still the constant partner of my bed. For thus I die, yet do not lose my breath; And thus, tho' living, I resemble death.

Extracts from an Address for the Anniversary of the LITERARY FUND, at Freemasons' Hall, May 1, 1817 *. Written and recited by WILLIAM-THOMAS FITZGERALD, Esq.

YOUR Bard, when more than twenty

years were past,

Here, gave a Farewell Poem as his last; Again he breaks the silence of his MuseFor who could Royalty, and you refuse? He therefore ventures to revive those lays, So highly honour'd by your former praise ! * ** * * *+

When years have swept the present race

away,

And friends to Science celebrate this day; If Fate permits my humble verse to last, When Life's delusive visions all are past! This may be said, among the Poet's friends,

'He did his utmost to promote its ends; To plead the cause of Learning's sons distress'd,

Was still a leading passion of his breast,

The passages here omitted have already appeared in our vols. LXIX. and LXX. Mr. Fitz-Gerald, after having given twenty Poems, for as many successive years, to the Literary Fund, took his leave as an Annual Writer in May1816; but honoured by the wish of the Royal Chairman, at the last Anniversary, and highly flattered by the request of the Society, to hear him again, he, on this day, selects, and incorporates, in his Address, parts of his Poems for 1799 and 1800.

And

And of his unbribed Muse the theme, and spring,

Love for his Country, honour to his King!
But he who first this noble fabric rais'd,
Shall with no common gratitude be prais'd:
The Tomb has clos'd upon the Founder's
head,

His merit lives, his errors only dead!
And when relief to suffering bards is given,
A prayer for him will reach the gates of
Heaven!
[phied bust,

Time that destroys the high-wrought troWill spare the bay that blossoms o'er bis dust!

Eternal honour to that Prince's name, Who, on the love of Science, builds his fame! Amidst the cares for ever near a throne, The Regent made our Founder's work his [Pride, Long may he live our Patron, and our With Learning, Worth, and Virtue by his side!

own:

THE inclosed Jeu d'Esprit came accidentally to my hands a short time since you will at once see that it is a Joke upon the renowned Antiquary "Browne Willis, of Whaddon Hall, in the county of Buckingham," whose Works and History you are well acquainted

with.

It is attributed to Richard, Lord

Viscount Cobham, at whose splendid mansion at Stowe the subject of it was a frequent visitor; but whether his Lordship were in truth the author of it, I do not at all know: nor am I quite sure that it is copied with perfect correctness, the Original being written in a very indifferent hand: at all events, it is at your service. Yours, &c. J. B. Whilom there dwelt near Buckingham, That famous County town,

At a known place bight Whaddon Chase, A 'Squire of odd renown.

A Druid's sacred form he bore,

His robes a girdle bound,
Deep vers'd he was in ancient lore,
In customs old profound.

A stick torn from that hallow'd tree
Where Spenser us'd to sit
And tell his tales with leering glee,
Supports his tott'ring feet.

High on a hill his mansion stood,

But gloomy dark within;

Here mangled books, as bones and blood
Lie in a giant's den.
Crude, undigested, half devour'd,

On groaning shelves they 're thrown ;
Such manuscripts no eye could read,
Nor hand write-but his own.

No Prophet he, like Sidrophel,

Could future times explore:
But what had happen'd he could tell
Five hundred years and more.

* The late David Williams, esq.

A walking Alm'nack he appears,

Stript from some mouldy wall, Worn out of use through dust and years, Like 'Scutcheons in his hall. His boots were made of that Cow's hide By Guy of Warwick slain, Time's choicest gift, aye to abide Among the chosen train. Who first receiv'd the precious boon We're at a loss to learn, By Spelman, Camden, Dugdale worn; And then they came to Hearne. Hearne strutted in them for a while, And then, as lawful heir, [spoil, Browne claim'd and seiz'd the precious The spoil of many a year. His car himself he did provide To stand in double stead, That it should carry him alive, And bury him when dead. By rusty Coins old Kings he'd trace, And know their air and mien;

King Alfred he knew well by face,

Though George he ne'er had seen.
This wight th' outside of Churches lov'd
Almost unto a sin:

Spires Gothic of more use he prov❜d
Of use, no doubt, when high in air
Than pulpits are within;
Or, with a Bramin's holy care,
A wand'ring bird they'll rest,

Make lodgments for its nest.
Ye Jackdaws, that are us'd to talk
Like us of buman race,
When nigh ye see Browne Willis walk

Loud chatter forth his praise.
Whene'er the fatal day shall come→→

For come, alas! it mustWhen this good 'Squire must stay at home, And turn to antique dust; The solemn dirge, ye Owls, prepare ;

Ye Bats, more hoarsely screak: Croak, all ye Ravens, round the bier, Aud all ye Church Mice, squeak.

from life,

When most the afflicted spirit shrinks [woe, Bent with the weight of woe succeeding If then 'tis doom'd to mingle in the strife, And uncomplaining bear each heartless blow; [dare not flow: While the breast heaves with sighs that Spurn'd by the slaves, though spurn'd, it must despise, [dains to shew, Bleeding with wounds which Pride disThe indignant soul, too long degraded, [hand denies!

cries For that releasing stroke - the dastard In the wild dream of days for ever gone To trace the progress of the mind's first blight,

To feel a wasted life rush blindly on

As through the dark an arrow's aimless fight!

To look beyond until the wearied sight Turns back to earth in doubt or worse dismay,[of night These are the thoughts that throw a pall O'er the fair front of Youth's yet open.

ing day, [gering blooms away. And sweep from the dull scene Joy's lin

And that to call one answering heart our own, [ills atone. Might in the weariest hour for life's worst The soothing voice, whose tones of tenderness [side were pain, Would whisper peace when aught beThe hand affectionate, whose gentle press Would calm the throbbing of the fever'd brain,

That sought on that soft bosom to regain A rest too long denied it:-these would well [vain Repay an age of suffering !-but 'twere To seek for Woman's love in Woe's sad cell; [and Pleasure dwell. That is a flower best known where Pomp Though this be so, let those who can, love

on;

It is not well to probe the soul too deep: Why should we bid Heaven's brilliant bow begone [sleep Because a shade? Who would not rather Through dreams of happiness, than waking weep?

He that can find a respite from his woes, Though but in fancy's shadowing, let him keep

The dear illusion; so he join not those On whom, with opening Truth, Joy's gates for ever close!

To seem alone upon a boundless sea Where the sweet breath of Hope ne'er fann'd the wave.

Or through the desert of Eternity

Seeking for rest, when there can be uo grave,

Nor stream Lethean the hot heart to lave That bears a sleepless vulture in its

core; [slave, These are the feelings of that worldly Who, when all earth-born pleasure charms no more,

Yet in his grovelling thought farther will never soar ! Canterbury.

Hath quaff'd the cup where dregs may Home of my youth!—when fading from my view [ground, Thy spires recede, and all thy classic Such parting will inflict an ever-staunchless wound!

There be but few who will not soon forget Me and my foibles-faults-perchance my name

And I shall vanish as a dream; but yet I have avow'd, and still assert the claim [blame] (Let the proud pedant Cynic praise or That thou hast on me, while the faith. [flame

ful heart

Of One remains-and while the mutual Of Friendship burns, and will its joys impart, [most angry dart. Then welcome to the worst, and Hate's

est sheen

Of all in Friendship's youthful galaxyNe'er may that heart forget to love, but be As the bright glow-worm to the night of life,

That shines when all is dark uncertaintyWho, when his path with peril, toil, be rife, [world of strife? Would ask a better guide in this wide And thou too-save one-the dearest friend, [breast; How vainly memory honours up the Say-will our hearts continue still to blend,

Till wearied life sigh for its final rest? Wilt thou remember those brief visions drest [were young, In hope's bright colours-while we yet

And yet 'twas our life's bitter bowl to taste, When on each word-look-friend

ship's accents hung,

And mutual fondness dwelt on each endearing tongue ?

To thee to all-who here my path have bless'd,

I bid a long-perchance a last fare.

well

EPITAPH

IN KENSINGTON CHURCH. "Sacred to the Memory of ISABELLA CAVE, youngest Daughter of Sir Thomas Cave, Bart. of Stanford Hall, co. Leicester. Died Jan 1, 1817 *. Reader! if Patience, Meekness, Faith, and Truth, [YouthPause on this spot, here drop one heartHave charms for Age, or influence on felt tear,

Here, learn to die in hope, or live in holy fear."

URBANE URBANISSIME,

A. H.

IN opere illo tabulato quod internos Domuum parietes succingit Penicillo descripta sequentia mihi occurrebant Disti cha (mirabiliter conservata ab anno 1748), quorum bonitate captus, in chartam transtuli, censeoque, nisi prius forte legeris, eadem tibi placitura.

Sum toi amantissimus, VIATOR, In Curru conduco locum visurus amicom Millia qui decies distat ab urbe novem. Impatiens Auriga moræ, nos urget; et hora

Cum nondum sonuit tertia, jungit equos. Vix experrectus, media inter somnia surgo,

Per longum misere discutiendus, iter.-Ingredior, sedeo, cubitumque coarctor

on a late occasion.

HASTE thee, Muse, and twine the wreath,

The roseate chaplet gay:
To Daphnis + give the grateful meed,

The myrtle and the bay.
Say, Vocal Sisters, who inspir'd

His sweetly classic strains,
Which might have claim'd the olive crown
On fam'd Olympia's plains?
Bright Albion's genius, pain'd to find
The Roman win the day,
Bent her mild pinion o'er his head,

And bade him raise the lay.
He rais'd the lay the flowing rhyme

Might grace Parnassus' height:
To' Aonian maidens stood surpris'd,

And stopp'd their soaring flight. Hear him, they cried; contend no more, But guard his rising fame:

So Britain shall in future times
Boast of her + Daphnis' name.

JUVENIS.

* See p. 94.

+ Ollivant.