of feeing company, has been productive of more domeftic mifery and more real diftrefs, povery, and wretchedness to families in this great metropolis, (who but for their folly might have been eafy and comfortable,) than many volumes could detail. A miftaken fenfe of what conftitutes human happiness, leads the mais of the people who have the means of moving, in any degree, above the middle ranks of life, into the fatal error of mingling in what is called genteel company, if that can be called fuch where Faro Tables and other games of hazard are introduced in private families. Where the leaft recommendation (and fharpers fpare no pains to obtain recommendations) admits all ranks who can exhibit a genteel exterior, and where the young and the inexperienced are initiated in every propenfity tending to debafe the human character, and taught to view with contempt every acquirement connected with thofe duties which lead to domeftic happiuefs, or to thofe objects of utility which can render either fex refpectable in the world. To the horde of tharpers at prefent upon the town, thefe places of rendezvous furnith a moft productive harvest. Many of this clafs, ruined perhaps themselves in early life in feminaries of the fame description, to which they foolishly reforted, when vanity predominated over prudence and difcretion, have no alternative but to follow up the fame mifchievous trade, and to prey upon the ignorant, the inexperienced, and the unwary, until they too fee the fatal delufion when it is too late. When fuch abominable practices are encouraged and sanctioned by high-founding names,-when harpers and black legs find an eafy introduction into the houses of perfons of fathion, who affemble in multitudes together for the purpose of playing at those most odious and deteftable games of hazard, which the legiflature has figmatized with fuch marks of reprobation, it is time for the civil magiftrate to ftep forward:and to feel, that in doing that duty which the laws of his country.impole on him, he is perhaps faving hundreds of families from ruin and deftruction, and preferving to the infants of thoughtless and deluded parents that property which is their birth-right: but which, for wang of an energetic police in enforcing the laws made for the protection of this property, would otherwife have been loft, leaving nothing to confole the mind but the fad reflection that with the lofs of fortune, thofe opportunities (in confequence of idle habits) were allo loft of fitting the unfortunate fu's ferer for any reputable purfuit in life, by which an honeft livelihood could be obtained. POETRY POETRY. ODE for the NEW YEAR. By H. J. PYE, Efq. Poet-Laureat. I. WHERE is immortal Virtue's meed, Th' unfading wreath of true renown, For all the cares that wait a crown; Remorfelefs Faction's harpy rage? But the fell Dæmons, urg'd by Hell's beheft, Threaten, with frantic arm, the royal Patriot's breaft! II. Yet not, Imperial George, at thee, Was the rude bolt of Malice fped, E'en fiends that Crown with rev'rence fee Where Virtue confecrates th' anointed head No-at thy bofom's fondeft claim, Thy Britain's peace, their fhafts they aim. Pale Envy, while o'er half the world War's bloody banners are unfurl'd, Beheld our coafts from ravage free, Protected by the guardian fea, Where Commerce spreads her golden ftores, Where fleets waft triumph to our fhores : She faw, and fick'ning at the fight, Wish'd the fair profpect of our hopes to blight; Sought out the object of our dearest care, Found where we moft could feel, and try'd to wound us there. III. The broken fhaft that coward Malice rear'd And bid it there with endless blazon live. In deathlefs characters, fhall trace How Britain's baffled foes proclaim'd their hate, And deem'd her Monarch's life the bulwark of the state. IV. Now ftrike a livelier chord-This happy day, To celebrate a name to Britain dear, That crown thine own ambrofial May. Did the loud ftrains of martial triumph cease, And tune to fofter mood the warbling reed of Peace. ODE on his MAJESTY's Birth Day, June 4, 1796: WH By II. J. PYE, Efq. Poet-Laureat. I. HERE are the vows the Mufes breath'd, Where all the blooming flow'rs they wreath'd, Prompt to extend her influence bland. Calm the rude clangors of the martial lay, And hail with gentler note our monarch's natal day? For II. For, lo! on yon devoted fhore, Still through the bleeding ranks of war, His burning axles fteep'd in gore, Ambition drives his iron car. Still his eyes, in fury roll'd, Glare on fields by arms o'errun ; Still his hands rapacious hold Spoils injurious inroad won; And, fpurning with indignant frown Bids the brazen trumpet's breath Swell the terrific blaft of destiny and death. III. Shrinks Britain at the found? Though, while her eye Slow to avenge and mild in victory, She mourns the dreadful scene of war and woes : Dismay in Pity's gentleft deed, And, conftruing mercy into fear, By ev'ry wave encircled fhore, From where o'er icy feas the gaunt wolf roves, As proudly to the ambient sky In filken folds her mingled croffes fly; A while in war's tumultuous found, And ftrains, from Glory's awful clarion blown, ON A beautiful SPRING in a VILLAGE. From POEMS by S. T. COLERIDGE. NCE more, fweet ftream, with flow foot wand'ring near, Efcap'd the flathing of the noontide hours For, not through pathlefs grove with murmur rude, Not Nor thine, unfeen in cavern depths to dwell, To Mrs. BISHOP, with a Focket-Looking Glass. Written by the late Rev. Mr. BISHOP, Mafter of Merchant-Tailors' School. O you, dear Wife (and all must grant A wife no common confidante), I dare my fecret foul reveal, Whate'er I think, whate'er I feel; |