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Still louder breathes, and in the face of day
Mounts up, and calls on Giles to mark her way.
Close to his eyes his hat he instant bends,
And forms a friendly telescope, that lends
Just aid enough to dull the glaring light,
And place the wand'ring bird before his sight;
Yet oft beneath a cloud she sweeps along,
Lost for a while, yet pours her varied song.
He views the spot, and as the cloud moves by,
Again she stretches up the clear blue sky;
Her form, her motion, undistinguish'd quite,
Save when she wheels direct from shade to light:
The flutt ring songstress a mere speck became,
Like fancy's floating bubbles in a dream:
He sees her yet, but, yielding to repose,
Unwittingly his jaded eyelids close.

Delicious sleep! From sleep who could forbear,
With no more guilt than Giles, and no more care?
Peace o'er his slumbers waves her guardian wing,
Nor conscience once disturbs him with a sting;
He wakes refresh'd from every trivial pain,
And takes his pole and brushes round again.'

Summer, 1. 63.

In painting the characteristics and caprices of insanity, Cowper has touched every heart in his well-known picture of "Crazy Kate."2 But may not Bloomfield claim equal praise for his beautiful and affecting story of

"The most beautiful part in the description of this bird, and which is at once curiously faithful and expressively harmonious, I have copied in Italics. Milton and Thomson have both introduced the flight of the skylark, the first with his accustomed spirit and sublimity; but probably no poet has surpassed, either in fancy or expression, the following prose narrative of Dr. Goldsmith, in his History of the Earth and Animated Nature': 'Nothing,' observes he, can be more pleasing than to see the lark warbling upon the wing, raising its note as it soars, until it seems lost in the immense heights above us; the note continuing, the bird itself unseen; to see it then descending with a swell as it comes from the clouds, yet sinking by degrees as it approaches its nest, the spot where all its affections are centred-the spot that has prompted all this joy.' This description of the descent of the bird, and of the pleasures of its little nest, is conceived in a strain of the most exquisite delicacy and feeling."

2

-A tatter'd apron hides,
Worn as a cloak, and hardly hides a gown
More tatter'd still; and both but ill conceal
A bosom heav'd with never-ceasing sighs.
She begs an idle pin of all she meets,

And hoards them in her sleeve; but needful food,
Though press'd with hunger oft, or comelier clothes,

Dr. Drake.

Though pinch'd with cold, asks never.-Kate is craz'd.

THE DISTRACTED FEMALE.1

-Naught her rayless melancholy cheers,

Or soothes her breast, or stops her streaming tears.
Her matted locks unornamented flow,

Clasping her knees, and waving to and fro;
Her head bow'd down, her faded cheek to hide;

A piteous mourner by the pathway side.

Some tufted molehill through the livelong day
She calls her throne; there weeps her life away:
And oft the gaily-passing stranger stays

His well-tim'd step, and takes a silent gaze,

Till sympathetic drops unbidden start,

And pangs quick springing muster round his heart;
And soft he treads with other gazers round,

And fain would catch her sorrow's plaintive sound:
One word alone is all that strikes the ear,
One short, pathetic, simple word—“O dear!"
A thousand times repeated to the wind,
That wafts the sigh, but leaves the pang behind!
Forever of the proffer'd parley shy,
She hears th' unwelcome foot advancing nigh;
Nor quite unconscious of her wretched plight,
Gives one sad look, and hurries out of sight.-

Fair promis'd sunbeams of terrestrial bliss,
Health's gallant hopes-and are ye sunk to this?
For in life's road, though thorns abundant grow,
There still are joys poor Poll can never know;
Joys which the gay companions of her prime
Sip, as they drift along the stream of time;
At eve to hear beside their tranquil home
The lifted latch, that speaks the lover come:
That love matur'd, next playful on the knee
To press the velvet lip of infancy;

To stay the tottering step, the features trace;
Inestimable sweets of social peace!

O Thou! who bidst the vernal juices rise,
Thou, on whose blasts autumnal foliage flies!
Let Peace ne'er leave me, nor my heart grow cold,

Whilst life and sanity are mine to hold.

"It presents as finished a specimen of versification as can be extracted from the pages of our most polished poets; and its pathos is such as to require no comment of mine."

Drake's Literary Hours, vol. ii. p. 467.

"From the review we have now taken of the 'FARMER'S Boy,' it will be evident, I think, that, owing to its harmony and sweetness of versification, its benevolence of sentiment, and originality of imagery, it is entitled to rank very high in the class of descriptive and pastoral poetry, and that, most probably, it will descend to posterity with a character and with encomia similar to what has been the endeavor of these essays to attach to it."

Dr. Drake.

THE WIDOW TO HER HOUR-GLASS.

Come, friend, I'll turn thee up again:
Companion of the lonely hour!
Spring thirty times hath fed with rain
And clothed with leaves my humble bower,
Since thou hast stood

In frame of wood,

On chest or window by my side:

At every birth still thou wert near,
Still spoke thine admonitions clear-
And, when my husband died.

I've often watch'd thy streaming sand,
And seen the growing mountain rise,
And often found life's hopes to stand
On props as weak in wisdom's eyes:
Its conic crown

Still sliding down,

Again heap'd up, then down again;

The sand above more hollow grew,
Like days and years still filtering through,
And mingling joy and pain.

While thus I spin and sometimes sing
(For now and then my heart will glow),
Thou measurest Time's expanding wing;
By thee the noontide hour I know:
Though silent thou,

Still shalt thou flow,

And jog along thy destined way:

But when I glean the sultry fields,
When earth her yellow harvest yields,

Thou gett'st a holiday.

Steady as truth, on either end

Thy daily task performing well,

Thou'rt meditation's constant friend,
And strik'st the heart without a bell:
Come, lovely May!

Thy lengthen'd day

Shall gild once more my native plain; Curl inward here, sweet woodbine flower: "Companion of the lonely hour,

I'll turn thee up again."

THOMAS ERSKINE, 1750-1823.

THOMAS (Lord) ERSKINE, third son of the Earl of Buchan, was born in the year 1750, and was educated at the University of St. Andrews. After serving six years in the navy and army, he was induced, at the earnest request of his mother, who saw his talents, and jestingly said he must be Lord Chancellor, to quit the military profession and prepare himself for the law. In 1778, he was called to the bar, where his success was immediate and remarkable. In a case of libel, in which he advocated the cause of the defendant, Capt. Baillie,' he displayed so much eloquence and talent that the legal world was astonished, and nearly thirty briefs were put into his hands before he left the court. In 1781, he appeared as counsel for Lord George Gordon in what was called a case of constructive treason, and by his wonderful skill, and eloquence, and legal learning, procured the acquittal of his client, and thus, for the time, gave the deathblow to the tremendous doctrine of constructive treason.

But there is nothing in the life of this eminent man which reflects so much honor on his memory as his exertions in defence of the privileges of juries. The rights of those pro tempore judges he strenuously maintained upon all occasions, particularly in the celebrated trial of the Dean of St. Asaph for libel, in 1784, when Justice Buller refused to receive the verdict of "guilty of publishing only," as returned by the jury.2 In 1789, he again displayed his wonderful powers in the defence of Mr. Stockdale, a bookseller, who was tried by the government for publishing what was charged as a libellous pamphlet, in favor of the celebrated Warren Hast

On this occasion, he showed that the courage which marked his professional life was not acquired after the success which rendered it a safe and a cheap virtue; but, being naturally inherent in the man, was displayed at a moment when attended with great risks. In the course of his eloquent argument, he was inveighing very strongly against a certain "noble lord," when the judge, Lord Mansfield, interrupted him, and remarked that "the Lord was not before the court. "I know he is not," was the bold reply, "but, for that very reason, I will bring him before the court. I will drag him to light who is the dark mover behind this scene of iniquity."

The following is a part of the spirited dialogue that ensued when the jury returned their verdict. It shows the noble daring and courage of Erskine. Mr. Erskine.-Is the word only to stand part of your verdict?

A Juror.-Certainly.

Mr. Justice Buller.-Then the verdict must be misunderstood; let me understand the jury.

Mr. Erskine.-(With great spirit.) The jury do understand their verdict. Mr. Justice Buller.-Sir, I will not be interrupted.

Mr. Erskine.-I stand here as an advocate for a brother citizen, and I desire that the word only may be recorded.

Mr. Justice Buller.-Sit down, sir; remember your duty, or I shall be obliged to proceed in another manner.

Mr. Erskine.-Your lordship may proceed in what manner you think fit. I know my duty as well as your lordship knows yours. I shall not alter my

conduct.

ings. This is one of his very finest, if not the best of all his speeches; and, "whether we regard the wonderful skill with which the argument is conducted, the soundness of the principles laid down, and their happy application to the case, the vividness of fancy with which these are illustrated, and the touching language in which they are conveyed, it is justly to be regarded as a consummate specimen of the art of addressing a jury." This masterly defence procured a clear acquittal for Stockdale, although the fact of publication was admitted.

But the most arduous effort of his professional life arose out of the part he took in the defence of Hardy, Horne Tooke, and others, in 1794, charged with high treason. These trials lasted several weeks, and the ability displayed by Mr. Erskine on this memorable occasion was acknowledged and admired by men of all parties. "Though the whole force of the bar was marshalled against the prisoners, and every effort used to beat down and paralyze their undaunted defender, his spirit rose superior to every difficulty, and his consummate talents shone forth in their native lustre. His indefatigable patience, his sleepless watchfulness, his unceasing activity of body and mind, his untameable spirit, his quickness and subtilty of intellect, together with a Herculean strength of constitution, counterbalanced the host to which he was opposed." In 1797, he delivered a most admirable speech-speaking more as a man than a lawyer-on the prosecution of a Mr. Williams, the printer and publisher of that foul, infidel book, "The Age of Reason," by Thomas Paine. Some passages of this speech are equal to anything he ever delivered.

In politics, Mr. Erskine was on the liberal side, acting with Fox and others of that party. He strenuously opposed the war with France, and published a pamphlet against it, entitled "A View of the Causes and Consequences of a War with France," which had an immense sale. On the death of Mr. Pitt, in 1806, when Lord Grenville formed a new administration, Mr. Erskine was created a peer, and elevated to the dignity of Lord High Chancellor of England His public career may be said to have terminated with this event, and the remainder of his life was undistinguished by any great exertion. Whilst accompanying one of his sons by sea to Edinburgh, he was seized with an inflammation of the chest, which compelled him to land at Scarborough. He reached Scotland by easy stages, but expired on the 17th of November, 1823, at the seat of his brother, a few miles from Edinburgh.

The eloquence of Lord Erskine was characterized not merely by the elegance of its diction and the graces of its style, but was peculiarly remark. able for its grace and earnestness. As an advocate, "he possessed the power of summoning upon the instant all the resources of his mind, and bringing them to bear upon the subject before the court with extraordinary effect. In this respect, his speeches bear a resemblance to those of Mr. Pitt, whilst they far surpass them in impassioned fervor, in brilliancy of imagination, in copiousness of imagery, and in that quality of the mind expressed by the em. phatic word-genius. His dexterity was likewise unrivalled at the bar, and these qualifications, united with a courage which nothing could daunt, and a

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