THE RIDER AND SAND-BOY: A TALE,

To give the last polish to youth, 'tis agreed
That Travel doth all formal precepts exceed;

It adds ease and freedom to classic-glean'd knowledge,
Rubs off the School rust, and the roughness of College.
As proof of this system, what men are so easy
As those who for Orders so fluently tease ye,
Who ride round the country, and show far and near
Their Manchester patterns, or Birmingham ware?

One day, after dinner, as a set of these wags
Were cracking their filberts, and praising their nags,
A poor shoeless urchin, half-starv'd and sun-tann'd,
Went by the Inn window crying, "Buy my fine sand.”
When saddle-bag SAMMY, Jong fam'd for his fun,
To banter this dust-cover'd Squaller begun—

"What dost sell there, my lad ?" "Why, sand, sir.” "And prithee

Hast got a large stock? I see none of it with thee.” "Oh ! I leaves sand and Neddy about the town's borders, "And am just stepping round, sir, to look out for "Orders!"

MORNING FLOWERS.

Go, Flow'rets fair, and from the sadden'd sense
Each tort'ring sentiment of care remove:

O'er the Soul's wound your soothing dews dispense,
Replete with fragrance, sympathy, and love.
Yes; go, ye Flow'rets! and may magic pow'r
Entwine a wreath round every future hour!

MATILDA DE C. C.

TO THE BUTTERFLY.

BY A LADY.

Ан, happy insect! free from care,
Thou sportest in the flutt'ring breeze;
Wild as the fragrant mountain air,
And playful as the waving trees.

When morning glimmers in the east,

Thou wander'st o'er the dewy ground,

To sip the wild thyme's honey'd feast,

Whose sweet breath scatters perfume round.

At noon thou suck'st the thistly mead,

Where, with companions blythe and gay,

Upon the nectar'd flowers to feed,

And sport the sultry hours away.

And when the sun's last beam is fled,
And ev'ning sheds her pearly tears,
Thou sinkest to thy blossom'd bed,

Slumb'ring till morn again appears.

Ah! happy insect! once like thine

My heedless moments pass'd away 3 No lengthen'd sigh of grief was mine :— No tears then chill'd the glowing day.

I wander'd carelessly along

The wild wood paths and shady bowers;
Gave to the murmuring winds my song,
And gather'd wreaths of simple flowers.

Yes: then, gay Flutterer! like thee

I danc'd where sportive Fancy led ;

But Joy no longer smiles for me,

And Hope's enchanting dreams are fled. S. E.

POEMS

BY

J. MORFIT, ESQ.*

Whose Communications on various interesting Subjects in Birmingham, in the first volume of this work, must have displayed his ability as a Prose Writer, no less than the following Pages will discover his powers as an elegant Classic Poet.

VOL. III.

2 D

In

IN

FRANCISCUM ROGERS, M. D.

Plurimo, id si quà foret, carmine celebrandum, hi versus præter ultimos, vivente ipso, scripti fuerunt: ultimi autem postquàm omnibus flebilis, sed nulli quàm mihi flebilior, animam efflavit, manu trepidante adjiciebantur. Fuit ille Medicorum decus et exemplar, in humanitate nimius, alienæ saluti consulens, suam negligens; optimo dignus monumento, nullius indigens.

EREPTE Gallis prava jubentibus
Adis Britannos, exul amabilis !
Cui multa passo jam licebit
Hic patrium renovare carmen.

Furore cæco regna ruentia,

Regumque sedem sanguine lubricam
Mansurus hîc liquisti; uterque
Incolumem dedit esse Phoebus.

Te clariorem extare Machaoni
Volebat idem; te miserataque
Fortuna tandem ponit iras
Prima studens reparare damna.

Fuêre luctus; pulchrior it dies :
Propinqua prudens arripe gaudia!
Carpenda, dum fas sit, fugaci
Gaudia præteritura gressu.

Mater

Mater vocat te læta Cupidinum,
Vocatque Virgo bellula, blandula,
Ardore tendens jam benignas,
Quas fabricavit amor, catenas.

Sed heu! febris, quæ tuta putes, brevi
Evertit atrox; occidit, occidit

Laudatus ille, interque laudes

Solvitur in lachrymas Camoena!

THE MERE IDEA OF THE ABOVE BEAUTIFUL TRIBUTE ATTEMPTED IN ENGLISH.

SNATCH'D from those dire artificers of ill,

Thy native Gauls, 'tis giv'n thee to retire
To Britain's sheltering shores,

And renovate the song

Sung by thy Fathers, Exile ever dear!

Dear for thy virtues, dearer for distress!
For much hast thou endur'd

In stern Misfortune's school.

Kingdoms convuls'd and torn, the sport and

prey

Of eyeless Fury, and the seat of Kings

Slipp'ry with human gore,

And rocking midst the waste,