being almost constantly living in town, on terms of the greatest intimacy and confidence with the leading political characters of the day; some of whom are now living, and must be aware that Dr. Wilmot's opportunities of obtaining the most interesting and important intelligence, were much greater than was necessary for the author of Junius's public letters, and quite sufficient to account for his almost immediate knowledge of Garrick's visit to Richmond, which he mentions in one of his private communications.

I could enter much further into this subject, but am not at present inclined to elucidate, more than I have already, the proofs to be produced of the identity of Junius; and which will put to rest forever the vague conjectures of those who amuse themselves with "guessing at Junius." I shall therefore only further remark, that the MSS. with an inspection of which I have been favoured, have very recently been perused by Mr. Woodfall, who declared his surprise at this discovery, equally accidental and satisfactory; and, although he expressed no decided opinion on the subject, observed, that they are written upon paper of the same size, with the same water-mark, as that used by Junius.

An intention is, I believe, entertained of publishing these papers, with a chain of circumstances, forming a mass of evidence; than which, in my opinion, nothing can be desired or conceived more satisfactory or conclusive, that Dr. Wilmot was the real author of the letters of Junius.*

Yours, &c.

METELLUS.

A pamphlet by the Rev. J. B. Blakeway, of Shrewsbury, has just been published, professing to disclose the long-concealed secret of "Junius's Letters.' A correspondent, who has read it, speaks of it as a very elegant and satisfactory performance, which he thinks will set the question completely at rest by proving that JUNIUS was JOHN HORNE TOOKE.-Edit.

POETRY.

DIRGE ON TWO YOUNG FEMALES TAKING THE VEIL.

AN OLD POEM.

1.

TO secret walks, to silent shades,
To places where no voice invades
The air, but what's created by
Their own retired society,

Slowly these blooming nymphs we bring,
To wither out their fragrant spring;
For those sweet odours lovers pine,
Where beauty doth but vainly shine.

CHORUS.

Where nature's wealth, and art's assisting cost,
Both in the beams of distant hope are lost.

2.

To cloisters where cold damps destroy
The busie thoughts of bridal joy;
To vows whose harsh events must be
Uncoupled cold virginitie;

To pensive prayers, where heaven appears
Through the pale cloud of private tears;

These captive virgins we must leave,
Till freedom they from death receive.

CHORUS.

Only in this remote conclusion blest,
This vale of tears leads to eternal rest,

3.

Then since that such a choice as theirs,
Which styles them the undoubted heirs
To heaven, 'twere sinful to repent,
Here may they live till beauty, spent
In a religious life, prepare

Them with their fellow saints to share
Celestial joys, for whose desire

They freely from the world retire.

CHORUS.

Go, then, and rest in blessed peace, while we
Deplore the loss of such societie.

348

THE SWISS EMIGRANT.

[From the New Annual Register.]

FAREWELL, farewell, my native land,
A long farewell to joy and thee!
On thy last rock I lingering stand,
Thy last rude rock how dear to me!

Once more I view thy valleys fair,
But dimly view, with tearful eye;
Once more I breathe thy healthful air,
But breathe it in how deep a sigh!

Ye vales, with downy verdure spread,
Ye groves that drink the sparkling stream
As bursting from the mountain's head
Its foaming waves in silver gleam;

Ye lakes that catch the golden beam
That floods with fire yon peak of snow,
As evening vapours bluely steam
And dimly roll their volumes slow;

Scenes on this bursting heart imprest
By every thrill of joy, of wo,
The bliss of childhood's vacant breast,
Of warmer youth's impassion'd glow,

The tears by filial duty shed

Upon the low, the peaceful tomb,

Where sleep, too blest, the reverend dead
Unconscious of their country's doom;

Say, can Helvetia's patriot child
A wretched exile bear to roam,
Nor sink upon the lonely wild,
Nor die to leave his native home?

His native home? No home has he;
He scorns in servile yoke to bow;
He scorns the land no longer free;
Alas! he has no country now!

Ye snow-clad Alps, whose mighty mound,
Great Nature's adamantine wall,

In vain opposed its awful bound

To check the prone-descending Gaul;

What hunter now with daring leaps

Shall chase the ibex o'er your rocks?

Who clothe with vines your rugged steeps?

Who guard from wolves your rambling flocks?

While low the freeborn sons of toil
Lie sunk amid the slaughtered brave,
To freedom true the stubborn soil
Shall pine and starve the puny slave.

Spoilers, who poured your ravening bands
To gorge on Latium's fertile plains,
And filled your gold-rapacious hands
From regal domes and sculptured fanes,

What seek ye here?--Our niggard earth
Nor gold nor sculptured trophies owns;
Our wealth was peace and guileless mirth,
Our trophies are th' invader's bones!

Burst not, my heart, as dimly swell
Morat's proud glories on my view!
Heroic scenes, a long farewell!
I fly from madness and from you.

Beyond the dread Atlantic deep
One gleam of comfort shines for me;

There shall these bones untroubled sleep,
And press the earth of Liberty.

Wide, wide that waste of waters rolls,
And sadly smiles that stranger land;
Yet there I hail congenial souls,
And freemen give the brother's hand.

Columbia, hear the exile's prayer;
To him thy fostering love impart ;
So shall he watch with patriot care,
So guard thee with a filial heart!

Yet O forgive, with anguish fraught,
If sometimes start the unbidden tear,
As tyrant Memory wakes the thought,
"Still, still I am a stranger here!"

Thou vanquisht land, once proud and free,
Where first this fleeting breath I drew,
This heart must ever beat for thee,
In absence near-in misery true.

EPITAPH ON THE LATE MR. COOKE.

PAUSE, thoughtful stranger: pass not heedless by,

Where Cooke awaits the tribute of a sigh.

Here, sunk in death, those powers the world admir'd,

By nature given, not by art acquir'd.

In various parts his matchless talents shone,
The one he failed in was, alas! his own.

Finsbury-Square, December 25, 1812.

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

THE CHRONICLE.-Proposals are issued by Mr. Edward J. Coale, of Baltimore, for publishing by subscription a continuation of Conrad's American Register. It is to be entitled THE CHRONICLE, and will comprise a general view of history politics and literature, foreign and domestic, on much the same plan, we believe, as the British Annual Register. It will be conducted by John E. Hall, Esq. of Baltimore, and will be published in quarterly numbers at the rate of six dollars per aunum. The utility of such a work is evident; and from the knowledge we have of the editor, and the evidence of learning and talent that he has given on various 'occasions, we are satisfied that this work will be conducted with indefatigable attention and great ability.

We have seen with pleasure proposals for publishing an edition of the Bible in two volumes, royal octavo, to be ornamented with sixty engravings. The subjects to be chosen by Messrs. Rembrandt Peale and Thomas Sully, and engraved by our most eminent artists. The high reputation of those gentlemen justifies us in the expectation that the work will be an honourable specimen of the state of the arts in our country. The publishers are Messrs. Delaplaine, Parker, Kimber and Richardson, of Philadelphia.

MR. CHARLES LESLIE.-By letters from England we learn that our young countryman, Mr. Charles Leslie, continues rapidly to improve in the art of painting: and promises to surpass the sanguine expectations that were formed from the great proofs he gave of early talent. He has sent to this country various paintings as specimens of his advancement; they have been the surprise and delight of connoisseurs, and we are told a large plate is engraving from one which represents the trial of Constance, in the popular poem of Marmion.

MR. WASHINGTON ALSTON.We are likewise informed that Mr. Washington Alston, of Charleston, has finished a large piece which was to be exhibited at the last royal exhibition; and which, in the opinion of a competent judge, who gives the information, would astonish the world of taste. Mr. Alston has for many years been accomplishing himself in the noble art which he professes, and has passed much time in France and Italy, studying the works of the great masters. He is a young gentleman of elegant mind and liberal endowment; fertile in his invention, with an imagination teeming with splendid and beautiful ideas, and governed by a pure and classic taste. To him it was that Mr. West made the flattering and emphatic compliment some years since, on examining his early productions, observing that he began where other painters finished. It is but about two years since he went out on his second visit to England; where we think it probable he will remain, and have no doubt but that he will rapidly rise to a proud eminence in his art, acquiring fame and fortune for himself, and reflecting lustre on the country that gave him birth.

MR. JEFFREY-We understand that Mr. Jeffrey, the celebrated editor of the Edinburgh Review, is about to visit this country, on business relative to the estate of a brother lately deceased at Boston. He was to sail in the ship Hercules, for Boston, whose arrival is daily expected. It is his intention also to visit our principal cities, and we trust that every facility will be given, both by government and individuals, to make his tour satisfactory and agreeable. To the representations of a man of Mr. Jeffrey's talents, information and literary influence, we may look with confidence for having this country vindicated from many of the gross aspersions that have been cast upon it, by narrow-minded or hireling travel writers. It is the interest of both nations to have a proper knowledge and estimation of each other, and we think that Mr. J. has hitherto in his writings shown a more candid and liberal disposition towards us, than most of his cotemporaries.

Madam De Stael arrived in England in June last. She was received with great distinction by the fashionable world, and was preparing a new work for the press. Miss Edgeworth had been in London, enjoying a round of gratifying attentions from the polite and literary society of that metropolis. She had returned to Ireland, leaving a new work in the hands of the booksellers.

Madam Darblay, the authoress of Cecilia, Evelina, &c. is in England, busily employed in writing a fourth novel.

CHYMICAL CONTROVERSY.-An important Chymical Controversy has been carried on, for some time past, between Mr. Murray, of Edinburgh, author of the