MISERIES OF VICE.

What indeed I meant

At first was vengeance; but I long pursued
The pair, and I at last their misery viewed
In that vile garret, which I cannot paint.-
The sight was loathsome, and the smell was faint;
And there that wife,-whom I had loved so well,
And thought so happy, was condemned to dwell;
The gay, the grateful wife, whom I was glad
To see in dress beyond our station clad,
And to behold among our neighbours fine,
More than perhaps became a wife of mine;
And now among her neighbours to explore,
And see her poorest of the very poor !-
I would describe it, but I bore a part,
Nor can explain the feelings of my heart;
Yet memory since has aided me to trace
The horrid features of that dismal place.
There she reclined unmoved, her bosom bare
To her companion's unimpassioned stare,
And my wild wonder !-Seat of virtue! chaste
As lovely once! O how wert thou disgraced!
Upon that breast, by sordid rags defiled,
Lay the wan features of a famished child ;-
That sin-born babe in utter misery laid,
Too feebly wretched e'en to cry for aid;
The ragged sheeting, o'er her person drawn,
Served for the dress that hunger placed in pawn.
At the bed's feet the man reclined his frame:
Their chairs were perished to support the flame

That warmed his agued limbs; and, sad to see,
That shook him fiercely as he gazed on me.

I was confused in this unhappy view :
My wife! my friend! I could not think it true;
My children's mother, my Alicia,-laid
On such a bed: so wretched,—so afraid!
And her gay, young seducer, in the guise
Of all we dread, abjure, defy, despise,
And all the fear and terror in his look,
Still more my mind to its foundation shook.

At last he spoke :-' Long since I would have died, But could not leave her, though for death I sighed, And tried the poisoned cup, and dropped it as I tried. She is a woman, and that famished thing

Makes her to life, with all its evils, cling:

Feed her, and let her breathe her last in peace,
And all my sufferings with your promise cease!'
Ghastly he smiled:-I knew not what I felt,
But my heart melted-hearts of flint would melt,
To see their anguish, penury, and shame,
How base, how low, how groveling they became;
I could not speak my purpose, but my eyes,
And my expression-bade the creature rise.

Yet, O! that woman's look! my words are vain
Her mixed and troubled feelings to explain;
True there was shame and consciousness of fall,
But yet remembrance of my love withal,

And knowledge of that power which she would now recal.

But still the more that she to memory brought,
The greater anguish in my mind was wrought;
The more she tried to bring the past in view,
She greater horror on the present threw ;
So that, for love or pity, terror thrilled
My blood, and vile and odious thoughts instilled.
This war within, those passions in their strife,
If thus protracted, had exhausted life;
But the strong view of these departed years,
Caused a full burst of salutary tears,
And as I wept at large, and thought alone,
I felt my reason re-ascend her throne."

Charlotte Smith.

SONNET.

QUEEN of the silver bow, by thy pale beam
Alone and pensive I delight to stray,

And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream,
Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy way.
And while I gaze, thy mild and placid light
Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast;
And oft I think, fair planet of the night,

That in thy orb the wretched may have rest; The sufferers of the earth perhaps may go, Released by death, to thy benignant sphere; And the sad children of despair and woe,

Forget, in thee, their cup of sorrow here.
O! that I soon may reach thy world serene,
Poor wearied pilgrim-in this toiling scene.

Southey.

MOONLIGHT.

How calmly gliding through the dark-blue sky, The midnight moon ascends! Her placid beams Through thinly scattered leaves and boughs grotesque; Mottle with mazy shades the orchard slope; Here, o'er the chesnut's fretted foliage grey, And massy, motionless they spread; here shine Upon the crags, deepening with blacker night Their chasms; and there the glittering argentry Ripples and glances on the confluent streams. A lovelier, purer light than that of day Rests on the hills; and oh how awfully Into that deep and tranquil firmament, The summits of Auseva rise serene! The watchman on the battlements partakes