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rupted ascent, on the side of a green so few could possibly see, and of declivity. At the northern end of those few in all human probability the vale there is another lake called none would recognise,- yet we fol. Bassenthwaite closed in like a lowed the example of our predewedge between two mountains, and cessors. There are three such seats bonnding the view ; the vale with upon the three points of the mounboth its lakes opened upon us as we tain ; all which we visited. It is ascended. The second stage was oftentimes piercingly coll here, infinitely more laborious, being so when the weather is temperate in steep, though still perfectly safe, the vale. This inconvenience we that we were many times forced to did not perceive, for the wind was halt for breath, and so long that in the south, but it brought on before we had completed it the

rain as

we were descending, and first ascent seemed almost levelled thoroughly wetted us before we with the vale. Having conquered reached home. this, the summit appeared before us, After dinner, as the rain still conbut an intervening plain, about a tinued, and we could not go further nile across, formed the third stage from home, we went to see of the journey ; this was easy tra.

exhibition of pictures of the lakes, velling over turf and moss. The a few doors distant. There were last part was a ruder ascent over several views of one called Was. loose stones with gray moss growing water, which is so little visited that between them,-on the immediate our book of directions is silent con. summit there is no vegetation. We cerning it. It seemed to us how. sat down on a rude seat formed by ever to be of so striking a charac. a pile of the stones, and enjoyed a ter, and so different from all which boundless prospect,—that is, one we hareyet seen, that we consult. which extended as far as the reached with our host concerning the of the human eye, but the distance distance and the best mode of getwas dim and indistinct.

ting there, and have accordingly the sea through a hazy atmosphere, planned a route which is to include and the smoke of some towns upon it, and which we shall commence to. the coast about six leagues off, when morrow. we were directed where to look for The people here wear shoes with them : the Scotch• mountains ap

wooden soles. D., who had never peared beyond like clouds, and seen any thing of the kind before, the Isle of Man, we were told, was inclined to infer from this that would have been visible had the the inhabitants were behind the rest weather been clearer. The home of England in inprovement; till scene of mountains was more im.

I asked him whether in a country pressive, and in particular the so subject to rain as by experience lake of Bassenthwaite lying under we knew this to be, a custom a precipice beneath us. They who which kept the feet dry ought not visit the summit usually scratch to be imputed to experience of their names npon one of the loose its utility rather than to ignorance ; stones which form the back to this and if, instead of their following rade seat. We felt how natural the fashions of the south of England, and how vain it was to leave be. the other peasantry would not do kind us these rude memorials, which wisely in imitating them.

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We saw


ODE for the New YEAR, 1806.

By HENRY JAMES Pre, Esq. Poet-Laureat.


THEN ardent zeal for virtuous fame,

When virtuous honour's holy flame,
Sit on the gen rous warrior's sword,
Weak is the loudest lay the Muse can sing,

His deeds of valour to record ;
And weak the boldest flight of Fancy's wing :--

Far above her high career,
Upborne by worth th' immortal chief shall rise,

And to the lay-epraptur'd ear
Of seraphs, list’ning from th' empyreal sphere,
Glory, her hymn divine, shall carol through the skies.

For though the Muse in all unequal strain

Sung of the wreaths that Albion's warriors bore

From ev'ry region and from ev'ry shore,
The naval triumphs of her George's reign-

Triumphs by many a valiant son
From Gaul Iberia, and Batavia won ;
Or by St. Vincent's rocky mound,
Or sluggish Texel's shoaly sound;
Or Haffnia's + hyperborean wave,

Or where Canopus? billows lave
Th' Egyptian coast, while Albion's genius guides
Her dauntless hero through the fav’ring tides,
Where rocks, nor sands, nor tempests' roar,
Nor batteries thund'ring from the shore,

Alluding to a pnem called Naucratia, written by the author, and dedicated by perinission to his majesty, + Copenhagen.


Arrest the fury of his naval war,

When Glory shines the leading star;
Still higher deeds the lay recording claim,
Still rise Britannia's sons to more exalted fame.

The fervid source of heat and light,

Descending through the western skies, Though veil'd awhile from mortal sight,

Emerging soon with golden beam shall rise,
In orient climes with brighter radiance shine,
And sow th' ethereal plains with flame divine.

So, damp'd by Peace's transient smile,
If Britain's glory seem to fade awhile,
Yet, when occasion's kindling rays

Relumine valour's gen'rous blaze,
Higher the radiant flames aspire,
And shine with clearer light, and glow with fiercer fire.

From Europe's shores th' insidious train,

Eluding Britain's watchful eye,

Rapid across th’ Atlantic ily
To Isles that stud the western main ;
There proud their conqu’ring banners seem to rise,
And fann’d by shadowy triumphs, flout the skies :

But, lo ! th' avenging Pow'r appears,
His victor flag immortal Nelson rears ;
Swift as the raven's ominous race,
Fly the strong eagle o'er th' ethereal space,
The Gallic barks the billowy deep divide,
Their conquests lost in air, o'erwhelm'd in shame their pride.

The hour of vengeance comes-by Gades' tow'ts,

By high Trafalgar's ever-trophied shoré,
The godlike warrior on the adverse Pow'rs

Leads his resistless fleet with daring prore.
Terrifie as th' electric bolt that flies
With fatal shock athwart the thund'ring skies,
By the mysterious will of Heaven

On man's presuming offspring driven,
Full on the seatter'd foc he hurls his fires,
Performs the dread behest, and in the flash expires--

But not his fame-While chiefs who bleed
For sacred duty's holy meed,
With glory's amaranthine wreath,
By weeping Veitory crown'd in death,

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In History's awful page shall stand
Foremost amid th'heroic band ;
Nelson ! so loug thy hallow'd name
Thy country's gratitude shall claim;
And while a people's Pæants raise
To thee the choral hymn of praise,
And while a patriot Monarch's tear
Bedews and sanctifies thy bier,
Each youth of martial hopes shall feel

True valour's animatiog zeal ;
With emulative wish thy trophies see,
And heroes, yet anborn, shall Britain owe to thee.

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But o'er the renovated plain
See Maia Icad her smiling train

Of halcyon hours along;
While burst from every echoing grove
Loud strains of harmony and love,

Preluding to the choral song,
Which opening June shall votive pour
To hail with proud acclaim our Monarch's natal hour

Still must that day, to Britain dear,

To Britons joy impart;
Cloudy or bright, that day shall wear

The sunshine of the heart.
And as before the fervid ray

That genial glows in summer skies, Each cloud that veil'd the beam of day

Far from the azure welkin flies :


So may each cheerless mist that seems Bonj in

Awhile to cloud our prospects fair, Dispell’d by Hope's enlivening, beams,

Our brightening ether fly, and melt away in air.

Awhile though Fortune adverse frown

By timid friends their cause betray'd,

With bosom firm and undismay'd, On force depending all their own, A living rampire round their parent Lord, The British warriors grasp th' avenging sword; While youths of royal hope demand the fight, To assert a Monarch and a Father's right. United in one patriot band, From Albion's, Erin's, Caledonia's land, Elate in arms indignant shine The kiodred heroes of the Briton line, To whelm învasion 'neath our circling flood, Or stain our verdant fields with Gallia's hostile blood.


(From the Lay of the Last Minstrel).

By WALTER Scott, Esq.


THE way was long, the wind was cold,

The Minstrel was in firm and old ;
His withered check, and tresses gray,
Seemed to have known a better day;
The harp his sole remaining joy
Was carried by an orphan boy ;
The last of all the Bards was he,
Who sung of Border chivalry.
For well-a-day! their date was fled,
His tuneful brethren all were dead;
And he neglected and oppressed,
Wished to be with them, and at rest.
No more, on prancing palfrey borne,
He carolled, light as lark at morn ;
No longer courted and caressed,
High placed in hall, a welcome guest,
He poured, to lord and lady gay,
The unpremeditated lay ;
Old times were changed, old manners gone,
A stranger filled the Stuarts' throne ;


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