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النشر الإلكتروني

THE FUNERAL,

A MONODY

TO THE MEMORY OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE,

Sweets to the sweet----farewel! Shakspeare.
When such friends part, 'tis the survivor dies !

Yowing .

What sounds are these that thro’ the midnight air

Rouse sleeping Silence from her deep repose ?
What torches these, that chase with lurid glare

The darkening curtain wearied nature throws
O’er toiling man and man's unnamber'd woes?-
Why thro’ the royal castle's ancient walls

Press the thick crowd at this untimely hour!
No banquet decorates these lofty halls,

No music issues from this lofty tow'r !
Alas! it is the sound of numerous groans

That on the wings of midnight breezes swell ;-
'Tis silence broken by the struggling moans

That burst from the torn bosom's inmost cell.

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Wife, mother, daughter,-ah! what ties

Are broken in this early tomb-
What blighted hopes, what kindred sighs,
What hours of anxious grief arise

From this unlook'd-for doom !
Here, whilst the Royal Brethren press
In the long train, with deep distress,
And tear-drops on each manly cheek
Reveal the pang they cannot speak,
Imagination's viewless feet
Seeks the reft Father's lone retreat,
But with no rude unhallow'd flight
Rests she on that soul-piercing sight.--
A solemn pause -

– a lingering sigh,
Is all the bosom dares supply,
To tell the soul's true sympathy.
Nor may she dwell on that pale mien
Which marks the Mother and the Queen;
Nor seek to find a short relief
From the keen sense of harrowing grief,
Where, with an infant's soft repose,

The aged Monarch calmly sleeps,
Unwistful of his people's woes,

Unconscious that his consort weeps.

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Return – Behold, that Princely Youth

Claims the full tribute of thy tear;
This grave is his, for hope, and love, and trath,

And peerless happiness lie buried here.
Yet comes he not with desperate eye to gaze

On the last relic of departed life, His soften'd heart its last sad duty pays

With pious woe, that while it weeps obeys, And struggles with its pangs in generous strife,

For ah! bow oft rebellious grief will turn,
Indignant turn from consolation's strain,

Bend o'er its treasured misery and spurn
The soothing cares that seek to lall its painsi-

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If upon earth one sight is found,
Of power to pierce and wring the broast,

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Unto his sovereign's throne;
He is no slave whose courtly wile;
With ready tear or ready smile,
The cringing puppet of the hour,
Fawns at the foot of tyrant pow'r,

A pow'r to him unknown;
But in the day of sorrow's test,
Touch the strong current of his breast;
And ye shall find that every vein
Responsive bears its sovereign's pain:
Nor lacks there in the rudest form
That braves the elemental storm,
A chord of feeling soft and warm,
Alive to honour's noblest charm,
By which a Royal Dame might hold
The spirits of the brave and bold :-
Where mingles with the Prince's claim
Lov'd Woman's all endearing name,

An empire o'er the heart is given,
Wide as old ocean's wave is roll’d,

And bounteous as the breath of heaven,

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And such had been, O peerless Fair!

Thy empire in these favour'd lands,
Had God in mercy heard our pray'r
The Mother and her Babe to spare :

But who shall question His commands ?
Who dare to pierce with impious eye
The veil that wraps futurity,
And seek His awful ways to scan,
“ Hidden from angels as from man ?
Enough it is for us to know
The only mourners are below;
Whate'er the lingering pains of sense,
Whate'er the stroke that calls them henco.
The inmates of a heavenly sky
Find the “ tear wip'd from every eye.”
And hark! from yonder sable crowd,

Mid smother'd sighs and tears suppressid,
One holy voice proclaims aloud;

« The dead, that die in Christ, are bles'd; “ Bless'd, for on earth their labours cease,

Bless'd, for in heaven is endless peace."

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THE MIRROR.

“Sic vivendum est tanquam in conspectu vivamus; sic eogitandum tanquam aliquis

in pectore intimo inspicere possit.” Sen. Ep.,

NO sooner had day-break flung its gray light upon my window, than I a rose from my couch, fresh with sleep aud vigorous with rest. It was one of the finest mornings of an Eastern spring. As I bounded across the plains of Patna, every leaf was bright with dew-drops ; the birds were playing their music in the copses, and the Ganges was crimsoned with the magnificence of the rising sun. My eye was gladdened by the loveliness of nature ; my heart overflowed with a plenitude of bliss. Delighting in the consciousness of existence, and grateful for the happipess it bestowed, I prostrated myself before the majesty of Heaven, in the silent expression of unutterable feeling.---At the door of his tent, tastiog the early winds that played among the branches and swept the odours of the flowers, sat the venerable Bramin of Orissa. The mises had crowned him with the chaplets of immortality, aud the genius of India had spread her treasures at his feet. The sages sought his wisdom, the youth of Hindostan pressed around him for iustruction, and the whole empire resounded with the fame of Odallah. I approached to take a final lease of this ancient friend of my father and guide of my early days, to obtain his parting counsel, to receive his last embrace.

“My son," said he, “ thou art now returning to the land of thy fathers, distinguished by the honours and laten with the opulence of the East. Thy country is the seat of learning and of science, of religion and of virtue : but it is also the home of infamy, and the abode of vice. Thy wealth will expose thee to the designs of avarice, and thy simplicity will render thee the dupe of imposition. Rank will court thy alliance, beauty spread her shares in thy path, and flattery surround thy table. Willingly would I impart to thee the dictates of wisdom, and impress upon thy mind the lessons of experience, but youth is apt to forget the counsels of age, aad the sagest precepts are lost in the intoxications of pleasure.

For half a century has the midnight lamp illuminated my tent, and the morbing sun shone upon my labours. To my unremitting toil, philosophy has yielded her richest stores, and uature has unfolded her deepest secrets. Behold, then, Vivaldo, this small Mirror-the result of the most abstruse and subtile combinations in the profonnd science of alchymy. On touching this sjlver spring, the glass will assume the appearance of crystal, and reflect the person then predominant in thy mind; aud on pressing this spring of gold, thou wilt observe a talismanick tablet, which will disclose to thee, with unerring fidelity, the real motives of action in any character exhibited by the mirror. Thus wilt thou possess a knowledge of mankind which will ensure thy escape from ten thousand dangers, to which youth and ignorance wonld expose thee. · Go, my son, and use this gift with dis

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