AN ELEGY

ON THAT GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE

GOOD people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madame Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word
From those who spoke her praise.

The needy seldom pass'd her door,
And always found her kind;
She freely lent to all the poor,
Who left a pledge behind.

She strove the neighborhood to please,
With manners wond'rous winning;
And never follow'd wicked ways,
Unless when she was sinning.

At church, in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size;
She never slumber'd in her pew,
But when she shut her eyes.

could be obtained at the village school, he entered Dublin College, and graduated, after some mishaps, in 1749. His life was one long and bitter struggle to maintain himself by his pen. He was always in debt and lived loosely. He was a warm-hearted and humorous Irishman, and a brilliant writer. Amid a mass of aack work which he produced to gain his daily bread, were some of the best works of their kind in the language, notably, the Vicar of Wakefield, a novel possessing the most enduring charm which humor and pathos combined can give. He wrote also many essays and some plays and poems, and was the friend of Samuel Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Edmund Burke, and others of the most brilliant men of his time. He died in London, in 1774 when at the height of his fame.

Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaux and more;
The king himself has follow'd her, -
When she has walk'd before.

But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all;

The doctors found, when she was dead,
Her last disorder mortal.

Let us lament, in sorrow sore,

For Kent Street well may say,

That had she liv'd a twelve-month more,—

She had not died to-day.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.1

TOLL for the Brave!

The brave that are no more!
All sunk beneath the wave
Fast by their native shore!

Eight hundred of the brave.
Whose courage well was tried,
Had made the vessel heel

And laid her on her side.

A land-breeze shook the shrouds

And she was overset;

1 The Royal George, a first rate man-of-war, was overset while ying at anchor at Spithead, by the guns rolling to one side when the vessel was careened to be repaired. Rear Admiral Kempen elt was drowned with all on board, about six hundred persons The disaster occurred August 29, 1782

Down went the Royal George,
With all her crew complete.

Toll for the brave!

Brave Kempenfelt is gone;
His last sea-fight is fought,
His work of glory done.

It was not in the battle;
No tempest gave the shock;
She sprang no fatal leak,
She ran upon no rock.

His sword was in its sheath,
His fingers held the pen,
When Kempenfelt went down
With twice four hundred men.

Weigh the vessel up

Once dreaded by our foes!
And mingle with our cup

The tear that England owes.

Her timbers yet are sound,
And she may float again

Full charged with England's thunder,

And plough the distant main:

But Kempenfelt is gone,

His victories are o'er;

And he and his eight hundred

Shall plough the wave no more.

WILLIAM COWPER.1

1 WILLIAM COWPER, son of the Rev. John Cowper, of the fainily of Earl Cowper, was born at Berkhampstead, November

IS THERE, FOR HONEST POVERTY.

Is there, for honest poverty,

That hangs his head, and a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, and a' that,

Our toils obscure, and a' that;
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that!

What tho' on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin gray, and a' that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A man's a man, for a' that!

For a' that, and a' that,

Their tinsel show, and a' that;

The honest man, though e'er sae poor,

Is king o' men for a' that!

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that;

26, 1731. He was a delicate child, and after leaving Westminster School, where he had a good reputation for scholarship, entered a lawyer's office and took chambers subsequently, intending to practise at the bar. His health, however, gave way, and his mind was seriously affected. The disease took the form of religious mania and melancholy, and recurred, at intervals, with greater or less acuteness through his life. Incapacitated for active pursuits Cowper retired to the country, and passed his life in the little village of Olney, in the house of Mrs. Unwin, who befriended him and to whom some of his most beautiful lyrica were addressed. He devoted himself to literature in his retire ment, where he passed a peaceful life. He died in 1800.

Though hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that:
For a' that, and a' that,

His riband, star, and a' that,
The man of independent mind,
He looks and laughs at a' that!

A king can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a' that;
But an honest man 's aboon his might,

Guid faith he mauna fa' that!

For a' that, and a' that,

Their dignities, and a' that,

The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,
Are higher ranks than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may
As come it will for a' that -

That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
May bear the gree, and a' that;

For a' that, and a' that,

It's comin' yet for a' that,

That man to man, the warld o'er,

Shall brothers be for a' that!

ROBERT BURNS.1

1 ROBERT BURNS was the son of a small farmer in Alloway, Scotland. He was born in 1759, and received a meagre education at the village school. But the love of knowledge there awakened led him to pursue his studies and educate himself so far as possible by every means in his power. He began to write verses at the age of sixteen, and was then brought into notice and received at Edinburgh, where he first fell into the aabits of excessive drinking which proved his curse. He was appointed an exciseman or gauger, which tended to increase his ntemperate habits, and although he afterwards returned to farming, his excesses had undermined his constitution and he