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Who had declared his intention of writing no more Poetry.

Dear CHARLES! while yet thou wert a babe, I ween
That Genius plunged thee in that wizard fount,
Hight Castalic : and (sureties for thy faith)
That Pity and SIMPLICITY stood by,
And promis'd for thee, that thou should’st renounce
The World's low cares and lying vanities,
Stedfast and rooted in the heavenly Muse,
And wash'd and sanctified to Poesy.
Yes—thou wert plunged, but with forgetful hand
Held, as by Thetis erst her warrior son:
And with those recreant unbaptized heels
Thou’rt flying from thy bounden ministeries-
So sore it seems and burthensome a task
To weave unwithering flowers ! But take thou heed:
For thou art vulnerable, wild-eyed Boy !

And I have arrows * mystically tipt,
Such as may stop thy speed. Is thy BURNS dead
And shall he die unwept and sink to earth
“ Without the meed of one melodious tear ?”
Thy BURNS, and Nature's own beloved Bard
Who to “ the Illustrious t of his native land
So properly did look for patronage.”
Ghost of Mæcenas ! hide thy blushing face !
They snatch'd him from the sickle and the plough-
To gauge ale-firkins !

O for shame return !
On a bleak rock, midway the Aonian mount,
There stands a lone and melancholy tree,
Whose aged branches to the midnight blast
Make solemn music : pluck its darkest bough,
Ere yet the unwholsome night-dew be exhald,
And weeping wreath it round thy poet's tomb.

* Vide Pind. Olymp. 2. 1. 150.

* Verbatim from Burn's Dedication of his Poem to the

Nobility and Gentry of the Caledonian Hunt.

Then in the outskirts, where pollutions grow,
Pick stinking hensbane, and the dusky flowers
Of night-shade, or its red and tempting fruit.
These with stopp'd nostril and glove-guarded hand
Knit in nice intertexture, so to twine
The illustrious Brow of Scotch NOBILITY !

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The people at Isna, in Upper Egypt, have a superstition concerning Crocodiles similar to that entertained in the West Indies; they say there is a King of them who resides near Isna, and who has ears, but no tail; and he possesses an uncommon regal quality, that of doing no harm. Some are bold enough to assert that they have seen him.

Browne's Travels. Mr. Browne had probably forgotten one of our legal axioms, or he would not have conceived that the privilege of doing ne wrong, was peculiar to this long-eard sovereign.

Now Woman why without your

veil ? And wherefore do you look so pale ? And Woman why do you groan so sad, And beat your breast as you were mad ?

Oh! I have lost my darling boy
In whom my soul had all its joy,
And I for sorrow have torn my veil
And sorrow hath made my very heart pale.

Oh I have lost my darling child,
And that's the loss that makes me wild,
He stoop'd to the river down to drink
And there was a Crocodile by the brink.

He did not venture in to swim,
He only stoop'd to drink at the brim,
But under the reeds the Crocodile lay
And struck with his tail and swept him away.

Now take me in your boat I pray
For down the river lies my way,
And me to the Reed-Island bring
For I will go to the Crocodile King.

The King of the Crocodiles never does wrong,
He has no tail so stiff and strong,
He has no tail to strike and slay,
But he has ears to hear what I say.

And to the King I will complain
How my poor child was wickedly slain,
The King of the Crocodiles he is good,
And I shall have the murderer's blood,

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