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Impassion'd, senseless, vigorous, or old,
What matters ?-hootless were his story told.
Some praise at least one act of sense may claim;
He wrote these verses,

but he hid his game.

I HEARD thy fate without a tear,

Thy loss with scarce a sigh;
And yet thou west surpassiny dear-

Too loved of all to die.
I know not what hath seard mine eye:

The tears refuse to start; But every drop its lids deny

Falls dreary on my licart.

Yes-deep and heavy, one by one,

They sink, and turn to care ; As caveru'd waters wear the stone,

Yet, dropping, harden there.They cannot petrify more fast

Than feelings sunk remain, Which, coldly fix’d, regard the past,

But never melt again.

A DRINKING SONG. | Full the goblet again, for I never before Felt the glow that now gladdens my heart to its core ! Let us drink!-Who would not?-Since through life's

varied round In the goblet alone no deception is found. I have tried in its turn all that life can supply; I have basked in the beam of a dark rolling eye; I lave loved !-Who has not?-But wbat tongue will

declare, That pleasure existed whilst passion was there ! In the bright days of youth-when the heart's in its

spring, And dreams that affection can never take wing: I had friends ?--Who has not 1-But what tongue will


That friends, rosy wine, are so faithful as thou!

The breast of a mistress some boy inay estrange; Friendship shifts with the sun-beam; thou never

can'st change! Thou grow'st old ! - Who does not ?-But on earth what

appears, Whose virtues like thine but increase with their years?

LINES, FOUND IN THE TRAVELLER'S BOOK AT CLAMOUNT. llow many number'd are, how few agreed, la age, or clime, or character, or creed ! Here wandering genius leaves a deathless name, And Folly writes—for others do the same. Italian treachery, and Englisla pride, Dutch craft, and German dulness, side by side! The hardy Russian hails congenial snow; The Spaniard shivers as these breezes blow. Knew mea the objects of this varied crew, To stare how many, and to feel how few! Here Nature's child, ecstatic from her school; And travelling problems, that admire by rule. The timorous poet woos his modest muse, Aud thanks his stars he's safe from all reviews. The pedant drags from out his motley store A line some hundred hills have heard before. Here critics too (for where 's the happy spot So blest by nature as to have them not?) Spit their vile slander o'er some simple phrase Of foolish wonder or of honest praise ; Some pompous hint, some comment on mine host, Some direful failure, or some emply boast. Not blacker spleen could fill these furious men, If Jeffrey's soul had perch'd on Gifford's pen. llere envy, hatred, and the fool of fame, Join'd in one act of wonder when they came : Here beauty's worshipper in flesh or rock, I he incarnate fancy, or the breathing block, Sees the white giant in his robe of light, Stretch bis huge form to look o'er Jura's height; And stops, while hastening to the blest remains And calmer beauties of the classic plains. And here, whom hope beguiling bids to scek Ease for his breast, and colour for his cheek, Suill steals a moment from Ausonia's sky, And views and wonders on luis way to die.

Yet if blest to the utmost that love can bestow,
Should a rival bow down to our idol below;
We are jealous ?—Who 's not ?- Thou hast no such

For the more that enjoy thee, the more they enjoy.
Then the season of youth and its jollities past,
For refuge we fly to the goblet at last;
There we find-Do we not ?-In the flow of the soul,
That truth, as of yore, is confined to the bowl.
When the Box of Pandora was opened on earth,
And Misery's triumph commenced over Mirth,
Hope was left!-Was she got ?—But the goblet ve kiss,
And care not for hope who are certain of bliss !
Long life to the grape! and when summer is flora,
The age of our nectar shall gladden our own;
We must die ! - Who shall not?- May our sins be for-

given, And Hebe shall never be idle in leaven!

REMEMBER THEE! REMEMBER thee, remember thee!

Till Lethe quench life's burning stream, Remorse and shame shall cling to thee,

And haunt thee like a feverish dream!

But he, the author of these idle lines, What passion leads him, and what tie confines ? For him what friend is true, what mistress blooms, What joy elates him, and what grief consumes ?

Remember thee! Ay, doubt it not.

Thy husband too shall think of thee : By neither shalt thou be forgol,

Thou **""* to him, thou "*"" to me!

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FAMILY. A curious story attaches to a quantity of silver-plate which was disposed of last week at Christie's. The plato in question is described in the catalogue issued by the auctioneers as “ formerly the property of the Right Hon. Mary Anne, formerly Countess of Portsmouth," and, in fact, the bulk of it is impressed with the Portsmouth Arms. This Countess of Portsmouth, whose maiden name was Miss Hanson, was one of the Court beauties in the reign of George III. during the Regency. On her marriage to the third Earl of Portsmouth, the Prince Regent presented her with several silver dinner plates, bearing the Royal Arms, which are included in the sale. At the wedding in 1814, Mr. Alder, of Horn cliff Northumberland-the estate belonging to Mr. Hubert E. H. Jerningham, M.P.-was groomsman, and Lord Byron, who also presented others of the articles comprised in the catalogue, gare the bride away. Ten years after the marriage the Countess was divorced, aad subsequently became the wife of Mr. Alder, who, be. cuming embarrassed in his affairs, was obliged to make an assigument for the benefit of his creditors. This assigomeut embraced the plate referred to ; but, accord. ing to the terms of the deed, it was not to be realised unless the remainder of the property assigned was insufficient to pay the creditors. The plate not being required for the purposes of the trust, the trustees under the assignment deposited it iu & Bauk in Berwick, where it has lain for the last fifty years; but recently proceedings were instituted on behalf of the only son of Mr. and Mrs. Alder, now a farmer in the State of Michigan, with the result that the plate was ordered to be given up by the bankers in whose custody it had remained so long. The quondam Countees and her second husband, after the downfall of the latter, fell very low in the social scale ; so reduced, indeed, did they become, that a single room in the fishing village of Spittal had to suffice for their habitation. Lord Byron, in a lotter contained in the correspondence published with Moore's * Life," and addressed from "* Genoa, March 28th, 1823,” refers to the divorce proceedings in the following terms :-"My name, I see in the papers, has been dragged into the unhappy Portsmouth business, of which all that I know is very succinct. Mr. H. (Hanson) is my solicitor. I found him so when I was ten years old-at my uncle's deathand he was continued in the management of my legal business. He asked me by a civil epistle, as an old &c. quaintance of his family, to be present at the marriage of Miss H-- I went very reluctantly one misty morning (for I had been up at two balls all night) to witness the ceremony, which I could not very well refuse without affronting a man who had never offended me. I saw nothing particular in the marriage. Of course, I could not know the preliminaries, except from what he said, not having been present at the wooing, nor after it; for I walked home, and they went into the country as soon as they had promised and vowed. Out of this single fact I hoar the Debats de Paris has quoted Miss H-as 'autrefois trés liée avec célébro,' &c. I am much obliged to him for the celebrity, but beg leave to decline tbe liaison, which is quite untrue ; my liaison was with the father in the unsentimental shape of long lawyer's bills, through the medium of which I have had to pay him ten or twelve-thousand pounds within these fow years." On the death of Mr. Alder thirty years ago, the Contess, with her son, the only issue of the second marriage, left this country for Canada, and ultimately settled in the town of Chatham in that colony, where she lived in obscurity until the time of her death, in May, 1870.-Court Journal.

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