On them gleam'd the moon's wan lustre, "Heed, O heed, our fatal story, I am Hosier's injured ghost, You, who now have purchased glory At this place where I was lost; Though in Porto-Bello's ruin You now triumph free from fears, When you think on our undoing, You will mix your joy with tears. "See these mournful spectres, sweeping Whose wan cheeks are stain'd with weeping; "I, by twenty sail attended, Did this Spanish town affright: Nothing then its wealth defended But my orders not to fight: O! that in this rolling ocean I had cast them with disdain, And obey'd my heart's warm motion, To have quell'd the pride of Spain. "For resistance I could fear none, But with twenty ships had done What thou, brave and happy Vernon, Hast achieved with six alone. [* Admiral Vernon's ship.] Then the Bastimentos never Of this gallant train had been. "Thus, like thee, proud Spain dismaying, He has play'd an English part, Of a grieved and broken heart. "Unrepining at thy glory, Thy successful arms we hail; But remember our sad story, And let Hosier's wrongs prevail, Think what thousands fell in vain, Here I feed my constant woe : We recall our shameful doom, And our plaintive cries renewing, Wander through the midnight gloom. "O'er these waves for ever mourning Shall we roam deprived of rest, If to Britain's shores returning, You neglect my just request. After this proud foe subduing, When your patriot friends you see, Think on vengeance for my ruin, And for England shamed in me *." [* I was much amused with hearing old Leonidas Glover sing his own fine ballad of Hosier's Ghost, which was very affecting. He is past eighty.-HANNah More. Life, vol. i. p. 405.] All nature seem'd rapt and enchanted. Quite overturn'd the monks' devotion, Cooking a dish of heavenly meat ! How fine he curtsies! Make your bow; To fill the belly of your soul. My good Lord Bishop, Mr. Dean, TO MISS THANKS to your wiles, deceitful fair, Without a blush your name I hear, No transient glow my bosom heats; And, when I meet your eye, my dear, My fluttering heart no longer beats. I dream, but I no longer find Your form still present to my view; I wake, but now my vacant mind No longer waking dreams of you. I meet you now without alarms, Or sweetly sit with placid guile, And vainer still your gilded smile. Loves in your smiles no longer play; Your lips, your tongue have lost their art; Those eyes have now forgot the way That led directly to my heart. Hear me ; and judge if I'm sincere ; That you are beauteous still I swear : But oh! no longer you appear The fairest, and the only fair. Hear me ; but let not truth offend, In that fine form, in many places, I now spy faults, my lovely friend, Which I mistook before for graces, And yet, though free, I thought at first, With shame my weakness I confess, My agonising heart would burst, The agonies of death are less. The little songster thus you see Caught in the cruel schoolboy's toils, Struggling for life, at last like me, Escapes, and leaves his feather'd spoils. His plumage soon resumes its gloss, His little heart soon waxes gay; Nor falls, grown cautious from his loss, To artifice again a prey. It is not love, it is not pique, That gives my whole discourse this cast; "Tis nature that delights to speak Eternally of dangers past. Carousing o'er the midnight bowl Which of us has most cause to grieve? And you, a faithful lover lose. I can find maids in every rout, With smiles as false, and forms as fine; But you must search the world throughout To find a heart as true as mine. EDWARD THOMPSON. [Born, 1738. Died, 1786.] CAPTAIN EDWARD THOMPSON was a native of Hull, and went to sea so early in life as to be precluded from the advantages of a liberal education. At the age of nineteen, he acted as lieutenant on board the Jason, in the engagement off Ushant, between Hawke and Conflans. Coming to London, after the peace, he resided, for some time, in Kew-lane, where he wrote some light pieces for the stage, and some licentious poems; the titles of which need not be revived. At the breaking out of the American war, Garrick's interest obtained promotion for him in his own profession; and he was appointed to the command of the Hyæna frigate, and made his fortune by the single capture of a French East Indiaman. He was afterwards in Rodney's action off Cape St. Vincent, and brought home the tidings of the victory. His death was occasioned by a fever, which he caught on board the Grampus, while he commanded that vessel, off the coast of Africa. Though a dissolute man, he had the character of an able and humane commander. A few of his sea songs are entitled to remembrance. Besides his poems and dramatic pieces, he published "Letters of a Sailor;" and edited the works of John Oldham, P. Whitehead, and Andrew Marvell. For the last of those tasks he was grossly unqualified. THE SAILOR'S FAREWELL. THE topsails shiver in the wind, The ship she casts to sea; But yet my soul, my heart, my mind, Should landmen flatter when we're sail'd, If Cupid fill'd his sails : Sirens in ev'ry port we meet, More fell than rocks and waves; But sailors of the British fleet Are lovers, and not slaves: These are our cares; but if you're kind, SONG. BEHOLD upon the swelling wave, And a cruising we will go. Whene'er Monsieur comes in view, With hearts of oak we ply each gun, The lovely maids of Britain's isle The wind sets fair, the vessel's trim, Old Neptune guides us while we swim, United let each Briton join, Courageously advance, SONG. LOOSE every sail to the breeze, The course of my vessel improve; I've done with the toils of the seas, Ye sailors, I'm bound to my love. Since Emma is true as she's fair, My griefs I fling all to the wind: "Tis a pleasing return for my care, My mistress is constant and kind. My sails are all fill'd to my dear ; What tropic bird swifter can move ? Who, cruel, shall hold his career That returns to the nest of his love! Hoist every sail to the breeze, Come, shipmates, and join in the song ; Let's drink, while the ship cuts the seas, To the gale that may drive her along. HENRY HEADLEY. [Born, 1766. Died, 1788.] HENRY HEADLEY, whose uncommon talents were lost to the world at the age of twenty-two, was born at Irstead, in Norfolk. He received his education at the grammar-school of Norwich, under Dr. Parr; and, at the age of sixteen, was admitted a member of Trinity college, Oxford. There the example of Thomas Warton, the senior of his college, led him to explore the beauties of our elder poets. About the age of twenty he published some pieces of verse, which exhibit no very remarkable promise; but his "Select Beauties of the Ancient English Poets," which appeared in the following year, were accompanied with critical observations, that showed an unparalleled ripeness of mind for his years. leaving the university, after a residence of four years, he married, and retired to Matlock, in Derbyshire. His matrimonial choice is said to have been hastily formed, amidst the anguish of disappointment in a previous attachment. But On short as his life was, he survived the lady whom he married. The symptoms of consumption having appeared in his constitution, he was advised to try the benefit of a warmer climate; and he took the resolution of repairing to Lisbon, unattended by a single friend. On landing at Lisbon, far from feeling any relief from the climate, he found himself oppressed by its sultriness; and in this forlorn state, was on the point of expiring, when Mr. De Vismes, to whom he had received a letter of introduction from the late Mr. Windham, conveyed him to his healthful villa, near Cintra, allotted spacious apartments for his use, procured for him the ablest medical assistance, and treated him with every kindness and amusement that could console his sickly existence. But his malady proved incurable; and, returning to England at the end of a few months, he expired at Norwich. FROM HIS "INVOCATION TO MELANCHOLY." CHILD of the potent spell and nimble eye, Of drear collected ice and stiffen'd snow, Long tangled woods, and ever stagnant lakes, Thou, unappall'd, canst view astounding fear And notes their secret lapse with shaking head. See, see, with tearless glance they mark his fall, And close his beamless eye, who, trembling, meets A late repentance, and an early grave. With thine and elfin Fancy's dreams well pleased, Safe in the lowly vale of letter'd ease, From all the dull buffoonery of life, Thy sacred influence grateful may I own; Nor till old age shall lead me to my tomb, THOMAS RUSSELL. [Born, 1762. Died, 1788.] [THOMAS RUSSELL was the son of an attorney at Bridport, and one of Joseph Warton's wonderful boys at Winchester School. He became fellow of New College Oxford, and died of consumption at Bristol Hot-Wells in his twenty-sixth year. His poems were posthumous. The sonnet on Philoctetes is very fine; and of our young writers, mature rather in genius than in years, Russell holds no humble place. Mr. Southey has num bered five, and Russell is among them-Chatterton, Bruce, Russell, Bampfylde, and Kirke White.] TO VALCLUSA. SONNETS. WHAT though, Valclusa, the fond bard be fled, SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN AT LEMNOS. On this lone isle, whose rugged rocks affright JOHN LOGAN. [Born, 1748. Died, 1788.] JOHN LOGAN was the son of a farmer, in the parish of Fala, and county of Mid-Lothian, Scotland. He was educated for the church, at the university of Edinburgh. There he contracted an intimacy with Dr. Robertson, who was then a student of his own standing; and he was indebted to that eminent character for many friendly offices in the course of his life. After finishing his theological studies, he lived for some time in the family of Mr. Sinclair, of Ulbster, as tutor to the late Sir John Sinclair. In his twenty-fifth year, he was ordained one of the ministers of Leith; and had a principal share in the scheme for revising the psalmody of the Scottish church, under the authority of the General Assembly. He contributed to this undertaking several scriptural translations, and paraphrases, of his own composition. About the same time, he delivered, during two successive seasons, in Edinburgh, Lectures on History, which were attended with so much approbation, that he was brought forward as a candidate for the Professorship of History in the |