Thou art not chance-work; a superior power
In every atom breathes; the plan's divine,
Though but mere instinct framed thee as thou art.
The stately residence of splendid pride,
Imperiously extending o'er the plain,

And darting its high pinnacles toward heaven,
May scorn thy rustic beauty and the truth
Thou showest, that the mighty hand of heaven
Alike is visible in all his works;

From the small particles of dust, that form
The sandy storm of an autumnal day,

To the tremenduous, cloud-capt, Alpine hills,
Whose snowy heads defy the noon day sun.
Though simple, thou art convincing proof of this,
And justly mayest retaliate the scorn;-
There dwell-hypocrisy, deceit, and fraud;
Here-honest nerit, and ingenuous love.

Now to thy place return; no hand of mine
Shall mar thy beauty, or despoil thy form.
Nurtured by thee, some future day's new dawn
May find some fresh inhabitants of air,
Warbling their songs of gratitude and praise,
Extended by responsive echoes, through
The neighbouring forest's solitary gloom.
Thou Architect divine! whose mighty hand
Arched the high firmament, and freely gavest
So many proofs of thy almighty power,
Accept my adoration; be thy will

My everlasting monitor and guide.

HOPELESS LOVE.

SELINA is absent-oh where can I find

G. DAVIES.

A charm that can chase this despair from my mind? Can memory?-no-each past joy yields its sting, And hope, the last solace, no solace can bring.

But see! at her window Selina appears,

And smiling in beauty, though smiling in tears,
She whispers—she loves '-but I think, with a sigh,
Her love is a crime, in her stern father's eye.
Now in transports of bliss, and of torments I'm tost,
Like a ship, that in sight of her haven is lost;
I view her with rapture, yet, viewing the fair,
I increase my distraction, complete my despair!

X'TY.

FORGET-Mг-NOT.

To flourish in my favourite bower,
To blossom round my cot,
I cultivate the little flower
They call Forget-me-not.

It springs where Avon gently flows,
In wild simplicity,

And 'neath my cottage-window grows,
Sacred to love and thee.

This pretty little floweret's dye,
Of soft cerulean blue,
Appears as if from Ellen's eye
It had received its hue.

Though oceans now betwixt us roar,
Though distant be our lot,

Ellen! though we should meet no more,
Sweet maid, Forget me not!

At morning most this flower I prize,
Whilst dew-drops linger near;
For then it seems like Ellen's eyes
Gemm'd with departure's tear.
From it this ray of hope reflects,
The hand that placed it there,
And still its fragile form protects,
Makes thee its constant care.

Yes, Ellen! yes, thy mild blue eye
Again shall glad my cot;

Till then, my love, on Heaven rely;
And ah! Forget me not.

EPIGRAM.

COLIN AR-A.

While her cheeks youth's glow display
'Tis strange Maria's teeth decay!
Some say, and truly say no doubt,

Her ceaseless tongue'tis wears them out.

JERRY MANSEL.

J. Arliss, Printer, London.

THE

POCKET MAGAZINE

OF

THE CALIPH ALMANZOR;

OR,

HOW TO JUDGE OF MEN. A TALE.
Resumed from page 33.

THERE resided in Bagdad a man who had written a book entitled: On the duties of princes and kings. This man's name was Elaim. His book had excited in a lively manner the curiosity of the public, who love, at a distance, to judge those who govern them, and who highly relishes the maxims of the author. Elaim's book had caused so much the greater sensation as it contained some bold remarks, which plainly alluded in terms of censure, to the first years of Almanzor's administration. His counsellers were incessantly advising him to cause the book to be burnt, and to impale the insolent author, who had dared thus to censure the conduct of his sovereign. Almanzor had, till now, expressed to no one his intentions respecting Elaim, who, indeed, was unknown at court, and had never been inclined to appear there.

The caliph, one night, sent for Elaim to his palace, and at the same time commanded the attendance of nine of his courtiers whom he believed to be the most sincerely attached to his person. He exhibited on each of his fingers a diamond of a prodigious size, and said to them, "I have assembled you here together, my ten friends, with the hope that from your VOL. III. No. XIV.

G

Tips I may hear the truth. You see these ten superb diamonds-I will present them to you this day as a recompense of your sincerity. Speak, what think you of my power and of my glory?" The courtiers, dazzled by the size and beauty of the diamonds, flattered themselves they should obtain them. They emulated one another in exalting to the skies the grandeur of Almanzor; they extolled him above all the heroes of former ages; they magnified his generosity, his taste for the arts, of which they called him the regenerator; they spoke with enthusiasm of the sumptuous palaces, the numerous mosques which he had built, and concluded by exalting him so high, that they would have been at a loss to have found new expressions, had the caliph ordered them at that instant to speak of the grandeur and of the power of God.

He drew the nine diamonds from his fingers, and distributed them to the nine courtiers who had spoken so well. Then turning towards Elaim: " And thou," said he to him, "why dost thou preserve silence? Art thou not desirous to gain the last diamond that remains, by telling me the truth!" My lord," replied Elaim, smiling, "falsehood and flattery may be purchased; but truth is not to be bought, it is given." "Well, then, I ask thee, what thinkest thou of my power and glory" "I think," replied Elaim," that you are but a man, a feeble instrument, whom God has formed for the happiness of other men, and whom he can crush with his breath, even as he created him from nothing."

At these words all the courtiers looked at one another in the greatest astonishment; they dared not turn their eyes towards the wretch who had uttered such horrible blasphemy. Almanzor took the hand of Elaim, and said to him: "I will not give thee the tenth diamond; for, thou hast thyself said that truth is not to be bought. But if truth be given, confidence and friendship ought also to be given. I ask of thee these two inestimable treasures. Remain always near me; I have found the friend which my heart has so long desired." The astonishment of the courtiers was redoubled. The caliph dismissed them, and caused Elaim to occupy one of the handsomest apartments

of his palace. The next day, the nine courtiers came, according to custom, to pay their homage to the caliph. They all wore on their fingers, the superb diamonds which they received the night before. "Well," said Almanzor to them, "are you satisfied with the present I have made you?" "Ah, my lord!” they replied," these diamonds are to us more precious than our lives, since we owe them to your generosity. But allow us, my lord, to give you an important piece of information. The merchant, who sold you these diamonds, has cheated you.' "How so?" "They are counterfeits." "Indeed!" replied the caliph laughing, "and did you believe I did not know it? You gave me false praises, I gave you false diamonds. I have paid you in the same coin; what cause have you to complain?"

Some time afterwards the caliph Almanzor, being at war with the king of Persia, wanted a man full of courage and of honour, in whom he could place an absolute confidence, to conduct a secret and important expedition. The whole success of the war depended on the issue of this expedition, and the slightest treachery might ruin every thing. The caliph for eight days had been undecided upon whom to fix his choice. During this interval, five hundred prisoners had been brought to Bagdad, who, during a revolt of the province of Khorassan against the caliph, had taken part with the rebel army. These five hundred miserable wretches are condemned to die. Two hundred of these prisoners had fled during the combat; but having been cut off in their retreat, they had been led in chains in the train of the conqueror; three hundred had disdained to fly, and had been taken with arms in their hands, after a vigorous resistance. The caliph, whose thoughts were incessantly occupied for the last eight days on his meditated project, accidently passed the spot where they were preparing to put in execution the cruel sentence of death pronounced against the five hundred prisoners. He stopped, he was moved with compassion at this spectacle, and wished to pardon them, but in such a manner, that this lenity should not encourage future delinquents. "I grant a pardon," said he, "to all those who fled before my