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ORIGINAL POETRY.

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I, I return, but not to speak of love; Enough, enough, th' ungrateful theme I quit,

Since you, my darling Nicé, disapprove. But see, my best belov'd, in anger rob'd,

How frowns the sky, prophetic of a storm! If thou dost sigh to house thy tender flock, Be mine the task that duty to perform. What! not alarm'd? Behold you not the heav'n,

How dark with clouds its sombre face appears?

How the light dust the eddying whirlwind

lifts?

How on its breast the fallen leaf it bears? By yonder woods that groan, by the wild

course

Of frighten'd birds, these partial drops that dew

Thy lover's pallid cheek, dear maid, I dread, E'en whilst I speak, the sad prediction's

true.

How have I long'd for thee, ecstatic hour} Blest beyond all, if fruit of love thou art,

Not terror-born, and child of accident,

But the rich recompence of my poor heart. E'en to this moment you have lov'd, perhaps, And I have ta'en thy modesty for hate; This terror might have been the veil of love; O let delusion cease! and speak my fate. You answer not, but fix upon the ground Those living stars, and bashful droop your head;

You blush! you smile! O Heav'ns! I understand,

That blush, that smile, enough enough have said.

Yet 'mid the storm, at length a calm I've found!

More bright, more fait, may never day

return :

This is the proudest of my fading life;
Thus would I live, and thus to dust re-

turn.

LA PESCA.

Behold! the light'nings glare! the thunder O COME, my ever-blooming Nicé, come!

roars !

Here, Trembler, here! ah,whither wouldst thou Ay?

It is too late to think thee of thy flock;

Rest in this cave, shall I not still be nigh?

Thou tremblest, treasure of this beating heart!

Light of my life! why does that bosom

leave?

Restrain thy fond alarms, tho' I am near,

The story of my love untouch'd I leave. Descend the thunderbolt, the lightnings flash!

1, I will shield thee, Nicé, from the blow; And when the sky (wiping away her tears) Smiles on the plain, ungrateful girl, 1 go. Repose thee here, for thou art safe, my Love,

Within the bosom of this hollow rock, Where never yet has pierc'd the lightning's fire,

Or crushing thunderbolt had power to shock. Its thick and friendly shade around bespreads A wood of laurels, that c'en to heav'n's

ire

No weak no common boundary prescribes;

Seat thee, my charming idol, and respire. But to my side, weak and alarm'd, you cling, And lock your hands in mine when I would fly;

Hush thy suspicions! for I will not go,

The general ruin should involve the sky.

Whilst gloomy night, who all confounds,

is nigh;

Haste thee to catch the fresh'ning airs that

flow,

And on your tranquil shore delight to sigh, He cannot designate what pleasure means, Who does not loiter on these pleasant

sands;

Now at this moment, while its pinion strong, A zephyr o'er the ripling wave expands. For once, thy humble mansion, Nicé, leave, Where wand'ring woodbines with the rose unite;

Nor think in cots alone that bliss resides, These dancing waves may also yield delight.

Here as the night her sable veil unfolds,

In ocean's bosom, envious of the sky, With added lustre each clear star essays

(And ever multiplied) to catch the eye. Here on the billows which alternate rise,

Whose dark and chilling waters sweep afar, Break the bright rays, and the Ephesian Queen

Urges, through many a broken cloud, her

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The long neglected mead, assumes again Her verdant mantle, its accustom'd robe

Puts on the forest too, which skirts our plain.

Already, welcome messenger of spring,

I feel a zephyr on my cheek to blow, A rudely-kissing breeze, that wand'ring wakes

The steeping rosebud and the flow'ret low. To arms, unto the field, again recals

The early season, nurse of wild alarms, Without thy lover, hapless maiden say, Canst thou exist, when not existence charms?

O friendly gales, in pity do not blow

To sad Irene, who so fondly loves.
O haste not, plants, so quickly to return,
To strew your buds like emeralds thro'

the groves.

O every flower! that emulous of fame,
Dost tint thy pallid cheek with rainbow
hue,

Who was the wretch, that first of guiltless
steel

O every breeze! that warm'st us with thy breath,

What sighs, O Heaven! ye cost a heart so true,

Form'd instruments of death to human

kind?

Made cruelty an art? No sense had he

Or sweet humanity, or love divine.
What madness! O what fury! to prefer
The angry menace of the vengeful foe,
To the sweet blandishment of mistress kind.
Be not seduc'd? my lov'd Philino, no!
But ah! for war, if thou so anxious art,
Know every lover must a warrior be;
In love we freeze, we burn, and love de-
mands

Valour, experience, ingenuity.

Ah! trust me, Love, enchanting Love has
wars,

The smart attack, defences smarter still;
The hidden lure, deceitful ambuscade,"
Triumphs, defeats, anger, and then good-
will.

But fugitive the anger is, the peace

The more delightful; and the triumph gay
Honours alike the vanquishi'd and the brave,

The gain the same, whoever wins the day.
Alas! what sound was that? the trumpet's
clang!

The signal of departure! Ingrate, stay. Why dost thou fly? I would not blight thy palms ;

Small my demand-one look, then haste

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shine,

O never, Phillis, wouldst thou cruel be. "Repeat I cannot, what I then did say, Or what my bold, presumptuous hopes express'd;

This much I know, on that dear iv'ry hand

A thousand ardent kisses I impress'd. "Bright as the tints of morn, a rising blush

Thy fascinating features seem'd to wear, When lo! the rustling of a neighb'ring bush Some instant danger bade me to beware.

* Sudden I turn, when curs'd Philino's form, His rival form, halt-hidden, I descry, Who, pale with envy of my happier stars, Regards my am'ious thefts with evil eye.

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Of her I love so tenderly;
Nor Echo from her caves proclaim,
Tho' oft made vocal to my Ame,
The sounds that syllable the dame

That loves me too so tenderly!
Yet, as her conscious eyes peruse the lay
That I have penn'd so cautiously;
The blush that o'er her cheek shali play,
And heaving bosom oft shall say,
Dear is the lovear away,

That breathes his flame so cautiously! And, free from prying eyes when next we meet,

To breathe of love, how rapturously,
Mingling sweet joys with converse sweet,
Oft as our parting 1ps retreat,
Her partial voice shall oft repeat

The glowing theme-how rapturously!

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When, by her mazic Crook's transforming aid,
She shews life's thorny vale as Eden fair?
Then view, in Fiction's changeful vestments
gay,

But, as the audience soon torgets the play,
A world which oft by fallacy enthrals;
Learn thou to feel, ere Life's great curtain
falls,

Alike indiff'rence to the weal or woe

"Inflam'd I grew, with anger, with surprise, Of those who fill each motley scene below.

And waken'd in a moment at the view."

Thus e'en in dreams, if sweet my transports

are,

Alas! they are as short and transient too.

Tis true, the pleasure and the dear deceit

Did with the darkness of the night depart; But not with darkness of the night retires The ardent passion which consumes my heart.

Thus, for a little moment if I am blest,

In dreams, that with a churlish haste are gone,

When day again returns his cheerful course, My torments but increase, and I love on.

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Her father, born of Afric's sun-burnt race,
Torn from his native fields-ah! foul dis-
grace!

Thro' various toils at length to Britain came,
Espous'd, so Heav'n ordain'd, an English dame,

But she is gone, and dwells in that abode,
Where some of every clime shall joy in
God.

PUN OF WILLIAM THE THIRD.

And follow'd Christ; their hope two infants ONE exclaim'd to King William, "May

dear,

But one a hapless orphan slumbers here.
To bury her the village-children came,
And dropp'd choice flowers, and lisp'd her

ear! me;

And some lov'd her most, as if unbless'd, Bedew'd wi.h tears the white wreath on their breast;

God damn the Dutch !"

And "May God damn the Dutch!" all the rabble resound;

When the Monarch replied, "Faith I thank you, friends, much;

For unless they were damm'd, they'd be certainly drown'd.

C.

PROCEEDINGS OF LEARNED SOCIETIES.

ROYAL SOCIETY OF LONDON.

ESSRS. Allen and Pepys have laid

Mbefore this learned body an account

of a great number of experiments, made with a view of ascertaining the changes produced in atmospheric air and oxygen gas by respiration; from which they

infer:

1. That the quantity of carbonic acid gas emitted is exactly equal, bulk for bulk, to the oxygen consumed; and therefore there is no reason to conjecture, that any water is formed by a union of oxygen and hydrogen in the lungs.

2. Atmospheric air once entering the lungs returns charged with from 8 to 84 per cent. carbonic acid gas, and when the contacts are repeated almost as frequently as possible only 10 per cent. is emitted.

3. It appears, that a middle-sized man, aged thirty-eight years, and whose pulse is seventy on an average, gives off 302 cubical inches of carbonic acid gas from his lungs in eleven minutes; and supposing the production uniform for twenty-four hours, the total quantity in that period would be 39,584 cubical inches, weighing 18,683 grains, the carbon in which is 5,363 grains, or rather vore than 11 oz. troy: the oxygen consumed in the same same time will be equal in volume to the carbonic acid gas. The quantity of carbonic acid gas, emitted in a given time, must depend much on the circumstances under which respiration is performed.

4. When respiration is attended with distressing circumstances, there is reason to conclude, that a portion of oxygen is absorbed and as the oxygen decreases in quantity, perception gradually ceases, and we may suppose, that life would

be completely extinguished on the total abstraction of oxygen.

5. A larger proportion of carbonic acid gas is formed by the human subject from oxygen, than from atmosphere air.

6. An easy, natural inspiration is from 16 to 17 cubical inches, though this will differ in different subjects; and it is supposed, that the quantity of carbonie. acid gas, given off in a perfectly natu ral respiration, ought to be reckoned at less than at a time when experiments are making on the human subject for the purpose, because in short inspirations the quantity of air, which has reached no farther than the fauces, trachea, &c. bears a much larger proportion to the whole mass required, than when the inspirations are deep.

7. No hydrogen, nor any other gas, appears to evolved during the process of respiration.

8. The general average of the deficiency in the total amount of common air be very small, inspired, appears to amounting only to 6 parts in 1000.

9. The experiments upon oxygen gas prove, that the quantity of air remaining in the lungs, and its appendages is very considerable; and that without a reference to this circumstance, all experiments upon small quantities of gas are liable to inaccuracy.

Mr. Brande has laid before the Royal Society, an account of the differences in the structure of calculi, which arise from their being formed in different parts of the urinary passages; and on the effects that are produced upon them by the internal use of solvent medicines, The experiments made by this gentle. man were very numerous, and on an uncommonly

aucommonly large collection of calculi, to most of which histories of the case are annexed. The subject is divided into different sections: the 1st relates to calculi formed in the kidnies, and voided without having undergone any changes in the urinary passages. These are entirely soluble in a solution of pure potash: and when exposed to the action of the blow-pipe, they blacken and emit a strong odour, which arises from the animal matter which they contain, and which occasions the loss in the analysis of these calculi. Its relative quantity is liable to much variation. In one instance a calculus from the kidney, weigh ing 7 grains, was ascertained to consist

of

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7.0

In some cases the calculi from the kiduies consist almost wholly of uric acid; sometimes phosphate of lime was combined with the acid.

II. In treating of the calculi which bave been retained in the kidnies, and which frequently increase in that situation to a considerable size, le observes that this augmentation is of two kinds.

1. Where there is a great disposition to the formation of uric acid, the calculus consists wholly of that substance and animal matter, so as frequently to form a complete cast of the pelvis of the kidney.

2. Where there is less disposition to form uric acid, the external laminæ are composed of the aminoniacomagnesian phosphate, and phosphate of lime.

In one instance, a small uric calculus was so deposited on the kidney, that its upper surface was exposed to a continual stream of urine, upon which beautiful crystals of the triple phosphate had been deposited. Mr. Brande therefore infers, that, under common circumstances, a stream of urine passing over a calculus of uric acid, has a tendency to deposit the plosphate upon it.

III. The calculi of the urinary bladder are of four kinds:

1. Those formed upon nuclei of uric acid, from the kidney."

2. Those formed upon nuclei of oxas late of lime from the kidney.

S. Those formed upon saud or animal mucus deposited in the bladder.

4. Those formed upon extraneous bo

dies introduced into the bladder. These are arranged under the following divi sions:-First, Calculi, which from their external appearance consist chiefly of uric acid, and which are chiefly or entirely soluble in a solution of pure potash. Secondly, Calculi composed chiefly of the ammoniaco-magnesian phosphate, or of phosphate of lime, or of mixtures of the two. These are characterised by their whiteness; by exhibiting small prismatic crystals upon their surface, and by their solubility in dilute muriatic acid. Thirdly, Calculi, containing oxalate of lime, com

only called mulberry calculi. These are distinguished by the difficulty with which they are dissolved in acids, by their hardness, and by leaving pure lime, when exposed to the action of the blow pipe.

By analysis a calculus of 60 graina yielded Grains. Urea and muriate of ammonia 5.2 Ammoniaco-magnesian phos

phate Uric acid

G.

. 48.8

60.0

From this and many other experiments Mr. Brande concludes, that the evolution of ammonia depends in all instances upon the decomposition of the ammoniacal salts contained in the calculus, more especially of the ammoniaco-magnesian phosphate, and that no substance which can be called urate of ammonia exists in calculi.

By analysis it was found, that a pure
specimen of the mulberry calculus consists
of
Grains.
Oxalate of lime. 65
Uric acid

Phosphate of lime.
Loss in animal matter

16

15

4

100

IV. The calculi found in the urethra consist of ammoniaco-magnesian phos phate, and phosphate of lime, with a small portion of uric acid; though some appeared to consist almost wholly of ame moniaco-magnesian phosphate.

Mr. Brande, in the next section, has given the result of analysis of the calculi found in the horse, ox, sheep, rhinoceros, dog, hog, and rabbit. These were found mostly to consist of phosphate of lime and carbonate of Inne in different proportions. In some, small proportions of animal matter were combined with the other substances.

The

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