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AMUSING CHRONICLE,

A Weekly Repository for MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE.

No, XXII, Price 4d.) Feb. 15, 1817. (Vol.II.

A quarto plate of the THREE MISSES DENNETT'S, accompanies this Number.

Etchings from Historical Works will shortly appear.

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THERE is not a station from the princely pavilion to the threshold of the humble cottager, in which female virtue doth not dignify the possessor, nor is there a stratagem to be put in force for its protection, that is not to be justified by moral philosophy, even though the endeavour may be repugnant to the feelings of female delicacy.

Tyrants and Barbarians will set up this fallacious plea for its destruction, ("a right by conquest") but the mind ex

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panded in the schools of honour, will at all times revolt at violation, well knowing that Love

Delights not there, afar he bears his flame,

And leaves the trespass for the scrolls of shame :
Force drowns affection, there no pleasures rise,
While honour charms the fair and wins the prize.

The history of mankind presents us with many instances where powerful villainy, for a transient gratification, has destroyed the peace of innocence, and bespread the pillows of the matron with the tears of a lasting sorrow, but few are the remarks on successful resistance; it often declaims on the wrongs of a ruined Lucretia, but seldom exults with a magnanimous Timoclea.

Since matrimony has become less respected among us, insomuch, that our would-be task-masters have had the audacity to recommend the annihilation of it with the humble poor, the violators of virtue have been more frequent, and, it has been our lot of grief too often to behold the guilty escape justice with impunity.

Satyrs, for I must not call them men, of this description but too much abound, having little else to do, they waylay the unsuspecting female in her rural walks, and by insulting solicitations, attempt more than the pen of modesty can express: the heavy judgments of the law are disregarded by them; and to remonstrate in a moral way is to call up insult and scurrility; or to exemplify the brilliancy of honor by the continence of the great Scipio, has now no more ef fect on the feelings of the character I now present, than a fairy tale from the old wife of a juvenile nursery.

To encourage my fair country women to resist, and treat with contempt these modern Tarquins, I have selected from the records of antiquity, the story of the Theban Matron, who, amidst the terrors spread by a conquering army, dared to protect her honour, and by an act of the highest magnanimity, won the friendship of the great Alexander.

The Theban Matron.

YE dames of Britain bless'd with ev'ry grace,
If not too partial to your dressing place,
If for a moment you can heedless pass

The rosy rouge, and form reflecting glass,

Your friseur's irons and his tort'ring comb,
The last soft novel, (fire consume the tome,
Destructive ever to the op'ning mind,
Leaving no traits of moral truth behind.)
If for a moment you can sit at peace,

Here turn your ear, and learn a tale from Greece &
Of female valour and address I sing,
And virtue honor'd by a conq'ring king.

When Greece for glorious Liberty was fam'd,
And Queen of Arts around the world was nam'd;
When cloud-dispelling Science grac'd her schools,
And barb'rous realms grew civil from her rules,
Then Thebans practis'd all their sages told,
And virtue recommended more than gold.
The sacred flame was not to man confin'd,
It spread its influence o'er the female mind;
O'er all her actions virtue held controul,
Improv'd her beauty, and enrich'd her soul.
This learn'd Plutarchus' honour'd
page supplies,
And who'd not listen to the Sage so wise?

What time the son of Phillip and of Fame
Made India own the Macedonian name,
And Mithra's realms receiv'd him as their Lord,
And fate or fortune waited at his word.
To Cadmus city with his matchless pow'rs
The conqu'ror came, and sat before her tow'rs ;
Around Heptapylos his armies spread,
While Thebe's sons, as yet unus'd to dread,
Defy the laurel'd darlings of renown,
And most courageously defend their town.
Full long they baffle the insulting foe,
Repulse their legions, and with ardour glow:
But ah! in vain, superior numbers rise,
O'er-top their walls, and rent the vaulted skies,
Her hundred gates fly open to the foe,

And terrors spread beneath the warrior's bow.
A dreadful phalanx flies thro' ev'ry street,
Where death and plunder wait on all they meet;
To helpless age they longer life deny,
Nor heed the parents, nor the infants cry;
By force perform what virtue must abhor,
And ten-fold make the mis'ries of the war.

'Twas where for plunder an equestrian band,
Led on by desolation's murderous hand,
All sanguine came, their captain forc'd a dome,
And of their treasures rifled ev'ry room.

At length exploring a recess with care,
He found the mistress of the mansion there,
The beautious owner of the princely place,
Whose lord fell fighting for the Theban race.
What swift transitions flame the mind unjust!
The slave of av'rice now's the slave of lust.
He caught the fair one tortur'd by her fears,
Nor heeds her sighs, nor yet her piteous tears;
By brutal impulse hurry'd to excess,

He sought what virtue blushes to express.
But soon some pow'r (for virtue finds a friend
When least expected ready to defend)
Inspir'd the captive with persuasive charms,
And thus she argued, trembling in his arms:
"What means my hero by this eager strife;
"I'm thine by conquest, e'en to yield my life!
"Full willing then I bend me to thy will,
"And urge but gentleness to hear me still.
"Before we wanton in the Cyprian shade,
"Possess my treasures, and your fortune's made.
"From yonder court that opens to the view,
"Be quick to order that despoiling crew,
"For there's a well in which my jewels lie,
"The richest sure beneath the circling sky;
"With many a goblet by my parent's giv'n,
"Fit for libations to the chiefs of Heav'n;
"An hundred caskets too, surpass'd by none,
"Are buried there, enrich'd with precious stone;
“With many a purse of pure Thebæan coin,
"Impress'd with portraits of great Cadmus' line ;
"Take these, my lord, all these without delay,
"Lest some less worthy bear my wealth away:
"And when this mass my conq'ror's made his own,
"Revel in pleasures you shall claim alone,
"My willing maids will shew you to the place,
"While I attend to do my hero grace."
He hears, he pauses; av'rice now prevails,
And lust mounts lightly in the mental scales.
Lead swift, he cry'd, my troops shall disappear:
He gives the signal, and no troops are near,
Towards the place the pliant females bend,
Remove the stones, and urge him to descend.
The yielding cord glides swiftly with his weight:
He fails, and finds his error but too late.
The voice of anger issues from the cave,
"Be brief, my maids, and now my virtue save.

This said, they cast the stones upon his head,
Nor quit the brutal ravisher till dead,
But heap on heap the angry virgins sent,
And gave at once both death and monument.

To be continued.

EXTRACTS from the POSTHUMOUS

WORKS of WILLIAM COWPER,

recently published.

'I would, that, exiled to the Pontic shore,
Rome's hapless bard had suffer'd nothing more.
He then had equall'd even Homer's lays,
And Virgil! thou hadst won but second praise.
For here I woo the Muse, with no controul,
And here my books-my life-absorb me whole.
Here too I visit, or to smile, or weep,
The winding theatre's majestic sweep;
The grave or gay coloquial scene recruits
My spirits, worn in learning's long pursuits;
Whether some senior shrewd, or spendthrift heir,
Sailor, or soldier, now unarm'd, be there,

Or some coif'd brooder o'er a ten-years' cause
Thunder the Norman gibb'rish of the laws, &c.'

In the epistle to his tutor, Thomas Young, at Hamburgh, there occurs a beautiful sketch of a christian pastor's family life and the following lines, from the same piece, contain sentiments such as Cowper delighted to express.

'But thou take courage! strive against despair!
Quake not with dread, nor nourish anxious care!
Grim war, indeed on ev'ry side appears,
And thou art menac'd by a thousand spears;
Yet none shall drink thy blood, or shall offend
Ev'n the defenceless bosom of my friend.
For thee the ægis of thy God shall hide,
Jehovah's self shall combat by thy side.
The same, who vanquish'd under Sion's tow'rs,
At silent midnight, all Assyria's pow'rs,

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