Could you but lose it, and some star arise My eye that rivets, but denies th' embrace; THE CHOICE. BY HENRY FOX COOPER. MIRANDA, fair as op'ning day, And lips as fweet as new-mown hay, "Your rofes, Ma'am," the beau replied, H. THE THE following little Poem has lately been in circulation at Tunbridge Wells. It conveys a delicate compliment to the prefent father of English poetry, the juftice of which will hardly be difputed by thofe who have the advantage of knowing him. It is understood to be the joint compofition of Mrs. Riddell and Sir James Burges : rumour afcribes to the former the first three ftanzas, and the remainder to the latter. WITH the Mufes and Nature once loit'ring, quoth Time, "Your skill you might better employ, Than in idly contriving fuch works to fublime, 4 As one stroke of my fcythe can destroy." "Peace, boafter! your laws," cried a Mufe, "you will find One pupil of ours can defy : Your touch has improv❜d the rich stores of his mind, "See, where CUMBERLAND files as our content he hears, And difplays, as a proof of this truth, With the treasures of science and knowledge of years, The spirit and graces of youth." "Scoff on," Time replied; "the example you bring The Mufes and Graces may boast of his Spring, "You, Nature! endow'd him with talents, 't is true, Yet 't was I who directed the fhoot as it grew, "Of your gifts I allow you to fay what you will, I confefs you 're the guardians of Helicon's rill, "Be content," cried Apollo," and hear what I fay; We At his birth I illumin'd his foul with my ray; You, each, have augmented his powers. H 6 "To "To make him immortal then let us unite, And wide, like his worth, be his praise: LINES TO THE MEMORY OF MR. JOHN KIRBY, LATE KEEPER OF NEWGATE PRISON. HENCE be the dictates of obtrufive mirth, While to the manes of departed worth The folemn knell of diffolution tolls. To each flow found, that strikes the lift'ning ear, Though plac'd the scenes of wretchedness to scan, His was the active charity, to footh The guilty wretch his efforts could not fave :- The haplefs fufferers, for crimes expell'd→→ E'en in the fad receptacle of woe Will tears of fympathy for once be shed, AN EXCUSE FOR PREJUDICE. [From the General Evening Poft.] WHEN prejudice fetters the judgment of man, But the fentiment let us applaud when we can, Foth Both kindred and country are themes to extol, For, perhaps, none except his fond felf will admit Or that carbuncles mend a fair face. This impulfe, methinks, is moft kindly ordain'd: If feminine beauty to all were the fame, The Efquimaux prizes his dear native home, And the former prefers his rude hut to the dome, Aye, and proudly they vaunt their refpective delights, The one boafts his prowess in tomahawk fights, When national vigour in arms is the theme, Let us look at our true British Tar: That Frenchmen fhould threaten-to him is a dream, And he's glum-that they keep off so far ; "For," fays Jack, "if fo be that they start from their holes, This prejudice furely is dear to us all, LEANDER. A PETER A PETER-PINDARIC ODE. BY OLD NICK. S Joan, one eve, according to the plan With feet In kennel, taking a comfortable doze. At the well-known voice, John op'd his eyes ; But, He mumbled out, his teeth between, Take, take away the light." THE LAST BOTTLE. THE TOPING PUNSTER'S ADDRESS TO HIS LAST BOTTLE OF PINE RUM. BY OLD NICK. Si quid adhuc ego fum, muneris omne tur eft. TRISTIUM lib. I. Eleg. VI. GRIEVE to fee thee go so fast, Oft, |