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developed among us, would delight to wield on our behalf, its energies unfettered, and toil unimpeded for the natignal prosperity ; new enterprize would inspirit the capitalist; while the humble artificer at the forge would learn the tidings with satisfaction,

“Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear." Something too much of this. But I have felt it incumbent on me to place on record my honest conviction of the impolicy of the tax itself, and of the still greater enornity of the evil which it goes to support. To return to my own history.

In this " hospital,” which was the first alma mater of my juvenile days, I graduated in all the science of the young gipsies who swarmed around me. My health, which was naturally robust, bore up against the fearful odds of mortality by which I was beset ; and although I should have ultimately, no doubt, perished with the crowd of infant sufferers that shared my evil destiny, still, like that favoured Grecian who won the good graces of Polyphemus in his anthropophagous cavern, a signal privilege would perhaps have been granted me: Prout would have been the last to be devoured.

But a ray of light broke into my prison-house. The idea of escape, a bold thought! took possession of my soul. Yet how to accomplish so daring an enterprise ? how elude the vigilance of the fat door-keeper, and the keen eye of the chaplain ? Right well did they know the muster-roll of their stock of urchins, and often verified the same:

“Bisque die numerant ambo pecus, alter et hædos.” Heaven, however, soon granted what the porter denied. The milkman from Watergrasshill, who brought the supplies every morn and eve, prided himself particularly on the size and beauty of his churn,-a capacious wooden recipient which my young eye admired with more than superficial curiosity. Having accidentally got on the wagon, and explored the capacious hollow of the machine, a bright angel whispered in my ear to secrete myself in the cavity. I did BO; and shortly after, the gates of the hospital were flung wide for my egress and I found myself jogging onward on


the high road to light and freedom! Judge of my seun sations! Milton was sung of one who, “ long in populous city pent,” makes a visit to Highgate, and, snuffing the rural breeze, blesses the country air: my rapture was of a nature that defies description. To be sure, it was one of the most boisterous days of storm and tempest that ever vexed the heavens ; but secure in the churn, I chuckled with joy, and towards evening fell fast asleep. In my subsequent life I have often dwelt with pleasure on that joyous escape ; and when in my course of studies I met with the following beautiful elegy of Simonides, I could not help applying it to myself, and translated it accordingly. There have been versions by Denman, tne Queen's solicitor ;* by Elton, by W. Hay, and by Doctor Jortin ; but I prefer my own, as more literai and moro conformable to genuine Greek simplicity.

The Lament of Danae.
By Simonides, the elegiac Poet of Cos,
Οτε λαρνακι εν δαιδαλεα, ανεμος
Bρεμε πνεων, κινηθεισα τε λιμνα
Δειγματι ημιπεν, ουδ' αδιαντοισι
Παρείαις, αμφι δε Περσει βαλε
Φιλαν χερα, ειπεν τε: Ω τεκος,
Οίον εχω πονον· συ δ' αωτεις, γαλαθηνω τ'
Ητορι κνωσσεις εν ατερπει δωματι,
Χαλκεογομφω δε νυκτιλαμπει
Κυανεω τε δνοφω· συ δ' αυαλεαν
“Υπερθε τεαν κομαν βαθειαν
Παριοντος κυματος ουκ αλεγεις,
Ουδ' ανεμου φθογγων, πορφυρέα
Κειμενος εν χλανιδι, προσωπον καλο».
Ει δε τοι δεινον

Και κεν εμων ρηματων λεπτου
Yπειχες ουας: κελομαι, ευδε βρεφος,
Ευδετο δε ποντος, ευδετο αμετρον κακον.
Ματαιοζουλια δε τις φάνειη,
Ζεύ πατερ, εκ σεο· ο τι δη θαρσαλεον

Επος, ευχομαι τεκνοφι δικας μου.
never employed him.-REGINA. 'Twas Caroline of Brunswick.

δεινον ην,

The Lainent of Stella.

By Father Proué.
While round the churn, ʼmid sleet and rain,
It blew a perfect hurricane,
Wrapt in slight garment to protect her,
Methought I saw my mother's spectre,
Who took her infant to her breast-
Me, the small tenant of that chest-
While thus she lulled her babe: “How cruel
Have been the Fates to thee, my jewel!
But, caring naught for foe or scoffer,
Thou sleepest in this milky coffer,
Cooper'd with brass hoops weather-tight,
Impervious to the dim moonlight.
The shower cannot get in to soak
Thy hair or little purple cloak ;
Heedless of gloom, in dark sojourn,
Thy face illuminates the churn!
Small is thine ear, wee babe, for hearing,
But grant my prayer, ye gods of Erin!
And may folks find that this young fellow
Does credit to his mother Steila,"

No. V.


From the Prout Papers.
“ Grata carpendo thyma per laborem

Plurimum, circa nemus* uvidique
Tiburis ripas, operosa PARVUS

Carmina fingo.”

“ By taking time, and some advice from Prout,

A polish'd book of songs I hammered out;
But still my Muse, for she the fact confesses,
Haunts that sweet hill, renown'd for water-cresses."

THOMAS L. MOORE. WHEN the star of Father Prout (a genuine son of the ac

i. e. Blarneum nemus.

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