The youth did ride, and soon did meet John coming back amain; Whom in a trice he tried to stop, But not performing what he meant, And gladly would have done, The frighted steed he frighted more, And made him faster run. Away went Gilpin, and away Went postboy at his heels, The postboy's horse right glad to miss The lumb'ring of the wheels. Six gentlemen upon the road, "Stop thief! stop thief!-a highwayman!" Not one of them was mute; And all and each that pass'd that way And now the turnpike gates again And so he did, and won it too, For he got first to town; Nor stopp'd till where he had got up He did again get down. Now let us sing, Long live the King, And Gilpin long live he; And, when he next doth ride abroad, May I be there to see! Dreading a negative, and overaw'd Lest he should trespass, begg'd to go abroad. 46 44 Go, fellow!-whither?"-turning short about Nay. Stay at home-you're always going out." "Tis but a step, sir, just at the street's end." For what?"'—“An' please you, sir, to see a friend." A friend!" Horatio cried, and seem'd to start"Yea marry shalt thou, and with all my heart.— And fetch my cloak; for, though the night be raw, I'll see him too-the first I ever saw." I knew the man, and knew his nature mild, Perhaps his confidence just then betray'd, But not to moralize too much, and strain, AN EPISTLE ΤΟ JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. DEAR JOSEPH-five-and-twenty years ago— YARDLEY OAK. SURVIVOR sole, and hardly such, of all It seems idolatry with some excuse, Thou wast a bauble once; a cup and ball, Which babes might play with; and the thievish jay Seeking her food, with ease might have purloin'd The auburn nut that held thee, swallowing down Thy yet close-folded latitude of boughs And all thine embryo vastness at a gulp. Thy rudiments should sleep the winter through. So Fancy dreams. Disprove it, if ye can, Thou fell'st mature; and in the loamy clod And, all the elements thy puny growth Delight in agitation, yet sustain The force that agitates, not unimpair'd; Thought cannot spend itself, comparing still Of matchless grandeur, and declension thence, Time was, when, settling on thy leaf, a fly That might have ribb'd the sides and plank'd the deck Who liv'd, when thou wast such? O couldst thou The bottomless demands of contest, wag'd speak, As in Dodona once thy kindred trees The future, best unknown, but at thy mouth By thee I might correct, erroneous oft, Time made thee what thou wast, king of the And Time hath made thee what thou art-a cave (Unless verse rescue thee awhile) a thing While thus through all the stages thou hast push'd Of girth enormous, with moss-cushion'd root What exhibitions various hath the world For senatorial honors. Thus to Time Embowel'd now, and of thy ancient self So stands a kingdom, whose foundation yet Stands now, and semblance only of itself! Thine arms have left thee. Winds have rent Long since, and rovers of the forest wild, But since, although well qualified by age * Knee-timber is found in the crooked arms of oak, which, by reason of their distortion, are easily adjusted to the angle formed where the deck and the ship's sides meet. On thy distorted root, with hearers none, "One man alone, the father of us all, But, moulded by his Maker into man With the thought-tracing quill, or task'd his mind THE CAST-AWAY. OBSCUREST night involv'd the sky; No braver chief could Albion boast, He lov'd them both, but both in vain, Not long beneath the whelming brine, Expert to swim, he lay : Nor soon he felt his strength decline, Or courage die away; But wag'd with death a lasting strife, He shouted; nor his friends had fail'd They left their outcast mate behind, And scudded still before the wind. Some succor yet they could afford; The cask, the coop, the floated cord, Delay'd not to bestow. But he, they knew, nor ship nor shore, Whate'er they gave, should visit more. Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he Their haste himself condemn, Aware that flight, in such a sea, Alone could rescue them; Yet bitter felt it still to die Deserted, and his friends so nigh. He long survives, who lives an hour In ocean, self-upheld: And so long he, with unspent pow'r, His destiny repell'd: And ever as the minutes flew, Entreated help, or cried-"Adieu!" At length, his transient respite past, Could catch the sound no more. For then, by toil subdued, he drank The stifling wave, and then he sank. No poet wept him; but the page That tells his name, his worth, his age, I therefore purpose not, or dream, No voice divine the storm allay'd, But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he. JAMES BEATTIE. JAMES BEATTIE, an admired poet and a moralist, was born about 1735, in the county of Kincardine, in Scotland. His father was a small farmer, who, though living in indigence, had imbibed so much of the spirit of his country, that he procured for his son a literary education, first at a parochial school, and then at the college of New Aberdeen, in which he entered as a bursar or exhibitioner. In the intervals of the sessions, James is supposed to have added to his scanty pittance by teaching at a country-school. Returning to Aberdeen, he obtained the situation of assistant to the master of the principal grammar-productions of the British muse. school, whose daughter he married. From youth he had cultivated a talent for poetry; and in 1760 he ventured to submit the fruit of his studies in this walk to the public, by a volume of "Original Poems and Translations." They were followed, in 1765, by "The Judgment of Paris;" and these performances, which displayed a familiarity with poetic diction, and harmony of versification, seem to have made him favorably known in his neighborhood. priety applied to such a person as he represents, and the "Gothic days" in which he is placed are not historically to be recognized, yet there is great beauty, both moral and descriptive, in the delineation, and perhaps no writer has managed the Spenserian stanza with more dexterity and harmony. The second part of this poem, which contains the maturer part of the education of the young bard, did not appear till 1774, and then left the work a fragment. But whatever may be the defects of the Minstrel, it possesses beauties which will secure it a place among the approved Beattie visited London for the first time in 1771, where he was received with much cordiality by the admirers of his writings, who found equal cause to love and esteem the author. Not long afterwards, the degree of LL. D. was conferred on him by his college at Aberdeen. In 1777 a new edition, by subscription, was published of his "Essay on Truth," to which were added three Essays on subjects of polite literature. In 1783 he published "DisserThe interest of the Earl of Errol acquired for him tations Moral and Critical," consisting of detached the post of professor of moral philosophy and logic essays, which had formed part of a course of lecin the Marischal College of Aberdeen; in which tures delivered by the author as professor. His last capacity he published a work, entitled "An Essay on work was "Evidences of the Christian Religion, the Nature and Immutability of Truth, in opposition briefly and plainly stated," 2 vols. 1786. His time to Sophistry and Scepticism," 1770. Being written was now much occupied with the duties of his in a popular manner, it was much read, and gained station, and particularly with the education of his the author many admirers, especially among the most distinguished members of the Church of England; and, at the suggestion of Lord Mansfield, he was rewarded with a pension of 2001. from the King's privy-purse. In 1771 his fame was largely extended by the first part of his "Minstrel," a piece the subject of which is the imagined birth and education of a poet. Although the word Minstrel is not with much pro-| eldest son, a youth of uncommon promise. His death, of a decline, was a very severe trial of the father's fortitude and resignation; and it was followed some years after by that of his younger son. These afflictions, with other domestic misfortunes, entirely broke his spirits, and brought him to his grave at Aberdeen, in August, 1803, in the 68th year of his age. 3 S |