And Fancy's loveliest landscapes yield
To the glad peasant's rescu'd field * ;
And Wisdom's smile and Mercy's tear
Shall my lov'd HENRY's choice endear:
For, whatsoe'er the art we name,
Virtue and Vice are still the same;
And whatsoe'er the ribald jest,

The upright man shall still be blest.

• This has been recently illustrated in a very singular and interesting manner. A poor widow, who received relief from Birmingham workhouse, came to the house of Mr. U., a professional gentleman, whom she had never seen before, and told him she had dreamt that he could recover an estate for her poor children, which a person unjustly detained from them; and that, although this person knew he possessed the estate unlawfully, he said he would never give it up, and that it was impossible for her to get it, as she could not afford to pay for law, and no lawyer would undertake her cause without money. Mr. U., no less concerned for the interests of the poor woman and her family than for the honour of his profession, after he had inquired into the truth of her statement, entered with becoming spirit into the business, dispossessed the man who detained the estate from her, and made him refund the arrears, and pay the costs of the suit. The poor widow and her children are now in complete enjoyment of the property thus rescued from the hands of a villain, which amounts to upwards of forty pounds a year; and thus her dream is happily accomplished.

TQ

ΤΟ

MR. GEORGE MAVOR.

AND what to you, dear blithsome boy,
Compos'd of ease and health and joy,
Fair round and sound, as hawkers cry
Their early cherries,-" Buy, come buy!"
What shall the Muse to you address
That may the Poet's love express?
For sure they both, as fondly true,
My playful George, appreciate you.

What tho' too young for War's alarms, For Learning's or for Glory's charms; A dearer debt to you I Owe

Than Camp or College can bestow.

O when dark storms, on Winter's wing, Forbade the cheerless Bard to sing; When scarcely strung the chiiling lyre, Ere the verse froze upon the wire; When Fancy's stream refus'd to flow, And the dull thought congeal'd to snow; When, sharper than the cutting wind, A winter gather'd o'er the mind; When mental vapours, storm and cloud, Life's changeful atmosphere enshroud, And, folded in Misfortune's gloom, Silent I woo'd th' oblivious tomb:

....

Or, still move dire, when pangs obtrude,
From cherish'd friend's ingratitude:
The eye that us'd with grief to flow,
The cheek that us'd with joy to glow,
Ic'd to their source; the faithless heart,..
When these the hydra sting impart,
The air of that good-humoured face,
The artless jest, the mazy race,
The gleeful leap, the frolic bound,
As gay we took the garden's round;
Escaping now, now archly caught,
Beguiling thus a moment's thought—
And what for this to you I owe,
Ah! never, never mayst thiou know!

And yet, dear GEORGE, immense the gain
Of one short monent stol'n from pain!
Stol'n from the gloom that wraps the mind
When trusted Friend has prov'd unkind;
More welcome than the dawning day
To the heath-wanderer on his way;
More precious than celestial light
Το eyes but just restor❜d to sight:
O'tis the hope-beam, heavenly fair,
To cheer the darkness of despair.

And what, gay laughter-loving boy,
Your rising talents shall employ,
When you shall reach maturer time,
And claim my heart-felt wish in rhime?
Believe me, GEORGE, the happy now
Is smoother than your polished brow;

The

The minutes and the months more sleck

Than the young down upon your check; -
And, save that here and there a page
Of Roman Bard or Grecian Sage
Puzzles your wit, and mars the fun

Which makes you wish the task were done,

The present are the days of glec,
And your whole life a jubilee;

And, trust me, never shalt thou share
A time, dear Youth, more void of care.

What then is left to Friendship's Muse,
But that, whatever path you choose,
Whether in Trade's tumultuous road
You toil to gain a golden load,

Or in soft solitudes you stray

Where Nature strews with flowers the way;
Whether devoted to the crowd,

Or cottager, where blossoms shroud;

Or merchant, who, to fill the sails

And waft his freight, invokes the gales;

Or holy man, on some fair green

Where you may lead

a life serene

In rectory snug, your patron near,

Amidst good neighbours and good cheer,

Where fat and fair, my buxom lad,

You may be happy as your pad;

And both together take the air
As easy as your elbow chair;
And if you wive, may she, like you,
Be fat and fair, and buxom too!
Or if to sea your Fates should bend,
May day and night, as now, befriend!

May

May Thetis' self her god implore
To waft your vessel to the shore,
And gently rock you on the deep
In coral cradle as you sleep!-

In short, dear Youth, whate'er the plan
The Fates ordain for you as man,
May all the bless you now enjoy,
With all the pains you feel as boy,
Permit you still to sport and caper,

In spite of cloud, and storm, and vapour,
Till you another GEORGE shall find
As blithe, good-humoured, and as kind,
Your frolic playfellow to be,

And give the pastime you give me!
Then son and sire like us shall race
O'er hill and dale to hiding-place.

Grant this till fourscore years are o'er,-
Affection's Muse can ask no more.