Verses.

WRITTEN ON REVISITING A FAVOURITE SCENE.

Mens natura commixta.

My blessing resteth here: for, in those days
When ev'ry hour but swelled the tale of pain-
Of him, to whose high soul the countless ways
The spirit and the gall of proud disdain
Can wound by-were explor'd, and trac'd again
In full security, till it became

All festering-oh! here I did regain

So much from Nature, that each pulse, the same
With hers, beat high-too high for ought of lordly name.
And in those hours of deeper darkness, when
The smile of Nature gay and joyous seem'd
In scorn-and to the gaze and care of men
I stood a thing so blasted, it was deem'd
A curse and past and future teemed
With pain:-in holy concord, this display
Of grandeur; ocean, earth and heaven sheened
In richest glory, melting with the day

In twilight's solemn chaos, fus'd my soul away.

There is a shoreless ocean for our cares

And hopes.-That stream hath brought its tribute here
Through rocks and clefts: so fretful life still wears
An onward way; so I shall pass: and dear
Nor sacred things in ruins round, a tear
Shall gain in passing-it hath smiling fled

O'er wreck and waste: heart-wringing sorrows ne'er
A sigh shall bring-counting each scar that bled
In the heart's core, hath long to painless habit led.
Who heeds yon flow'r that floats upon the wave,
By rude hands torn from some bless'd spot
And flung thereon-no beauty left to save
Its name-no hue nor tint by which to note
Its culture or its kind? Why, let it float
Till it be cast to rot among the heap

Of ocean's wreck.-So, let no sigh, no thought
Of kind remembrance mark my sinking: deep

In dreamless silence let my name and being sleep.
MAY, 1819.

J. F.

Scrapiana Poetica.

SCRAPIANA POETICA.

When an old man addresses you on the subject of modern degeneracy, you will be disposed, I daresay, to consider hist sentiments as influenced not a little by that partiality which all have for the days of their earlier years. You will think of the centuries that are past, and contrast them with the enlightened times in which you have the happiness to live, and set down my strictures as the croakings of soured and discontented old age. I am aware that such is the spirit with which the censures of men of my years are generally received-and I admit that in many cases it may be justly excited. I have therefore to bespeak your indulgence in judging of the paper which I now take the liberty of submitting to you. Estimate it by the facts to which it refers, and not by the feelings or circumstances under which it may have been written.

There is no proposition which is so frequently repeated, or to which the men of the present day so proudly assent, as this, "that the age in which we live is the age of knowledge and refinement." I mean not to question the truth of it; for when I think of the mighty miracles of genius which have been atchieved in every province of science within the short compass of twenty or thirty years, I am disposed to call this the most wonderful period which is registered in the annals of time. And I

E

Modern Degeneracy.

The

reckon myself happy in having been permitted to witness so illustrious an era. We have to glory in the triumphs of warriors-in the discoveries of philosophers-in the talents and eloquence of statesmen-in the song of minstrels, greater than are recorded in Greek or Roman story. But I am far from believing, that, amid all these honours of which we have so much cause to boast, we have equal reason to be proud of our advancement in the cultivation of those arts which tend to moralize mankind, to ameliorate individual character, and to strengthen the stamina of a nation's glory. It is needless to be particular by referring to facts which are in every body's mouth. rapid increase of open immorality and public crime is a matter which every one sees and laments. The feats of our desperadoes are becoming so frequent and outrageous, that our very moral sense is beginning to be less severe in its tone of pure and high feeling. Public punishments are becoming so familiar to us that we are beginning to forget the end for which they were designed. And among the lower ranks, in particular, that reverence for religion, and that strictness of religious observance, which so much characterized our forefathers, are rapidily on the decline. But on such topics as these, it is not my intention at present to enlarge. I leave it to the political observer to trace the causes, and prescribe the cure for such lamentable exhibitions of the times. What I have more particularly in view is to call your attention to the change which is fast taking place in the character, habits and manners of our countrymen-and in this change I think I can trace the symptoms of a begun degeneracy.

I need not tell you what are the traits in the character of Britons, which have been for ages the subject of remark and panegyric. Boldness and manliness of deportment; openness and frankness of disposition; simplicity and honest bluntness of manners, used to be esteemed the pride and peculiarities of our countrymen. But now things are fast changing. We seem tired of our ancient simple habits, and seek after what is called Gentility, by an affectation of foreign conceits. Nor is this spirit limited in its operations, or trifling in its effects. All classes seem to be actuated by it; and it seems already to have extended in no small degree to our persons, our manners, and our minds. French fantastic fopperies have decorated the external of our beaux and belles-French chit-chat has invaded

Modern Degeneracy.

our tea-tables and our drawing-rooms-Freach quadrilles and German Waltzes have usurped the prerogative of our native reels and our Caledonian minstrelsy-and French effeminacy in its many insinuating varieties, has found a welcome reception on our shores; all threatening to neutralize the high qualities of our national character. And these innovations have commenced particularly in a quarter whence the evil is sure to spread— mean among our youth. Our young men of fashion now seem ashamed of that sturdiness of character which their sires and

their grandsires were wont to pride themselves in. In their persons, instead of the broad chest and brawny limbs we behold shrivelled, starched, buckramed figures, the merest skeletons of actual men. Decked by the trimmings of their tailor, and set up by the art of the dancing master, they now come forth into the world mockeries of human beings-like as many puppets set on springs, to play their antic parts in Punch's opera: seemingly unfit for any thing manly or dignified, but to act as waiting gentlemen to the ladies-unfit for any contemplation, but the contemplation of themselves. In their manners and habits too, how different from their revered progenitors! We need only notice their motions as they shew off in the drawing-room, or beau the ladies in the places of public promenading, and all is stiff, measured, and unnatural: we have only to listen to their conversation, and it is stuffed full of ephemeral slang and contemptible flummery, and exhibits altogether much of what a man of intellect would be ashamed of: in fine, we may follow them to their retirements, and instead of finding them devoting their leisure hours to the cultivation of their minds, and to the enjoyment of rational pleasures, we see them studying at the toilet-table, or dissipating their time, their talents, and their fortune, by frivolous and unworthy pursuits. These phenomena of the times, I am convinced are pregnant with much mischief to our country. We are aping foreign manners, and in this way are most directly loosening that strong and delightful attachment to our native land, for which we have become a proverb to the nations—we are acquiring soft and effeminate habits, and are thus adopting the certain means of destroying that hardiness of character which has so long been the bulwark of our defence, and the terror of our foes-we are departing from our once-loved simplicity of life, and are thus destining a future generation to be deprived of many inestima