HOURS OF IDLENESS.

Whilo Youth and Beauty form the female shield,The sterner censor to the fair must yield.

Yet* should our feeble efforts nought avail,Should, after all, your best endeavours fail,

Still let some mercy in your bosoms live,

And, if you can't applaud, at least forgive.

ON THE DEATH OF MR. FOX,

The following illiberal impromptu appeared

IN A MORNING PAPER.

“ Our nation's foes lament on Fox's death,

But bless the hour when Pitt resign'd his breath:These feelings wide , let sense and truth undue,

We give the palm whet'e Justice points its due."

TO which the author of these pieces sent

THE FOLLOWING REPLY.

Oh factious viper I whose envenom’d toothWould mangle still the dead, perverting truth;"What though our “ nation’s toes” lament the fate,With generous feeling of the good and great, •

Shall dastard tongues essay to blast the nameOf him whose meed exists in endless fame ?

When Pitt expired in plentitude of power,

Though ill success obscured his dying hour,

Pity her dewy wings before him spread,

For noble spirits “ war not with the deadHis friends, in tears, a last sad requiem gave,

As all his errors slumber’d in the grave;

He sunk, an Atlas bending ’neath the weightOf cares o’erwhelming our conflicting state;

When, lo I a Hercules in Fox appear’d,

Who for a time the ruin’d fabric rear’d :

He, too, is fall'n, who Britain ’s loss supplied,

With him our fast reviving hopes have died;

Not one great people only raise his urn,

All Europe ’s far-extended rogions mourn.

"These feelings wide, let sense and truth undue,

To give the palm where Justice points itB dueYet let not canker’d Calumny assail,

Or round our statesman wind her gloomy veil.

Fox! o’er whose corse a mourning world mustweep,

Whose dear remains in honour’d marble sleep;

For whom, at last, e’en hostile nations groan,While friends and foes alike his talents own 5Fox shall in Britain ’s future annals shine,

Nor e’en to Pitt the patriot’s palm resign;

Which Envy, wearing Candour’s sacred mask,

For Pitt, and Pitt alone, has dared to ask.

THE TEAR.

“ 0 lachrymarum fons, tenero sacrosDucentium ortus ex animo; quaterFelix ! in imo qui scatentemPectore te,pia Jfympha, sensit —Gray.

"When Friendship or Love our sympathies move,When Truth in a glance should appear,

The lips may beguile with a dimple or smile,

But the test of affection’s a Tear.

Too oft is a smile but the hypocrite’s wile,

To mask detestation or fear;

Give me the soft sigh, whilst the soul-tellipg eyeIs dimm’d for a time with a Tear,

10T

Mild Charity's glow, to us mortals below,

Shows the soul from barbarity clear;

Compassion will melt where this virtue is felt,

And its dew is diffused in a Tear.

The man doom’d to sail with the blast of the gale,Through billows Atlantic to steer,

As he bends o’er the wave which may soon be hisgrave,

The green sparkles bright with a Tear.

The soldier braves death for a fanciful wreathIn Glory's romantic career;

But he raises the foe when in battle laid low,

And bathes every wound with a Tear .

If with high-bounding pride he return to his bride,Renouncing the gore-crimson’d spear,

All his toils are repaid when, embracing the maid,From her eyelid he kisses the Tear .

Sweet scene of my youth 1 seat of Friendship andTruth,*

Where Jove chased each fast-fleeting year,

Loath to leave thee, I mourn’d, for a last look Iturn’d,

But thy spire was scarce seen through a TearThough my vows I can pour to my Mary no more,My Mary to love once so dear;

In the shade of her bower I remember the hourShe rewarded those vows with a Tear.

By another possess’d, may she live ever blest!

Her name still my heart must revere;

With a sigh I resign what I once thought was mine,And forgive her deceit with a Tear.

Ye friends of my heart, ere from you I departThis hope to my breast is most near:

If again we shall meet in this rural retreat,

May we meet, as we part, with a Tear.

When my soul wings her flight to the regions ofnight,

And my corse shall recline on its bier,

As ye pass by the tomb -where my ashes consume,Oh! moisten their dust with a Tear.

May no marble bestow the splendour of woe,Which the children of vanity rear;

No fiction of fame shall blazon my name;

All I ask—all I wish—is a Tear.

October 26tA, 1806.

REPLY TO SOME VERSESOF J. M. B. BIGOT, ESQ., ON THE CRUELTY OF HISMISTRESS.

Why, Pigot, complain of this damsel’s disdain,Why thus in despair do you fret?

For months you may try, yet, believe me, a sighWill never obtain a coquette.

Would you teach her to love! for a time seem torove;

At first she may frown in a pet;

But leave her awhile, she shortly will smile,

And then you may kiss your coquette.

For 6 uch are the airs of these fanciful fairs,

They think all our homage a debt:

Yet a partial neglect soon takes an effect,

And humbles the proudest coquette.

* Harrow.