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So when I am weary'd with wand'ring all day,
To thee, my delight, in the evening I come;
No matter what beauties I faw in my way:

They were but my vifits, but thou art my home.

Then finish, dear Chloe, this paftoral war,
And let us like Horace and Lydia agree :
For thou art a girl as much brighter than her
As he was a poet fublimer than me.

There are many places in this fong in which a great variety of light and shade, with respect to inflection of tone, may be practifed with confiderable beauty.-The reader's own tafte, after what he has already had from us, will guide him, no doubt, in finding them out, without any of our affistance.

There is a great deal of elegant tenderness in the following, by the fame Author.-Your expreffion, in reading it with fatisfaction, must be foft, and engaging, with occafionally a mixture of the pathetic.

YES, faireft proof of beauty's pow'r,

Dear idol of my panting heart,
Nature points this my fatal hour:
And I have liv'd; and we must pagt.

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While now I take my last adieu,
Heave thou no figh, nor fhed a tear;
Left yet my half-clos'd eye may view
On earth an object worth its care.

From jealoufy's tormenting ftrife
For ever be thy bofom freed;
That nothing may difturb thy life,
Content I haften to the dead.

Yet when fome better-fated youth
Shall with his am'rous parley move thee,
Reflect one moment on his truth,

Who dying thus, perfifts to love thee.

We will now prefent the reader with a Song poffeffing no inconfiderable degree of humour. The metre runs peculiarly pleasant to the ear; and if the scholar enters into the spirit of it, when reading, he cannot fail of giving it with effect, as far as fuch a trifle will admit of.

THE

THE DESPAIRING LOVER.

By WALSH.

LET there be a good deal of hurry, and an apparent determination of doing what the lines exprefs, in your manner of going through the whole of the firft verfe, and the first line of the second.

DISTRACTED with care
For Phyllis the fair;

Since nothing could move her,
Poor Damon, her lover,

Refolves in despair

No longer to languish;

But, mad with his love,

To a precipice goes,
Where a leap from above

Would foon finish his woes.

When in rage he came there,

Here comes the alteration in your manner of reading it, which we advised as above. Now your voice drops, and you speak the words more deliberately, as if reafoning upon the act, with no great inclination to execute it.

Beholding how steep

The fides did appear,
And the bottom how deep;

L

Take

Take care that your looks correfpond with the fenti

ment.

His torments projecting,
And fadly reflecting,

That a lover forfaken

A new love may get;

But a neck, when once broken,

Can never be fet:

Still the fentence goes on.

And that he could die

Whenever he would,

But that he could live

But as long as he could:

How grievous foever

The torment might grow,

He fcorn'd to endeavour

To finish it fo.

But bold, unconcern'd,

At thoughts of the pain,

Now lower your voice, and fpeak the two concluding lines quite compofedly, as if the mind were made up not to do the act.

He calmly return'd

To his cottage again.

We

We do not know of any Song or ballad that poffeffes more fituations in which a reader of taste and difcrimination may exercise these qualities to greater advantage, than in that which next follows. The ftory is told with all that eafe and fimplicity of language which fo well fuit compofitions of the ballad kind. Some trifling obfolete words are occafionally introduced, but which are easily understood.

BRYAN AND PEREENE,

A WEST INDIAN BALLAD; FOUNDED ON A REAL FACT, THAT HAPPENED IN THE ISLAND CHRISTOPHER'S.

By GRAINGER.

THE firft verfe in a full, clear, diftinct voice.

THE north-east wind did briskly blow,

The fhip was fafely moor'd;

Young Bryan thought the boat's-crew flow,

And fo leapt over-board.

OF ST.

Now foften your voice, and ftop a little after the word Pereene."

Pereene, the pride of Indian dames,
His heart long held in thrall;

And whofo his impatience blames,

I wot ne'er lov'd at all.

L 2

Speak

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