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There were women ! there men ! but to me a third sex
I saw them all dots-yet I loved them as specks:
And oft to assuage a sad yearning of eyes

I stole near the city, but stole covert-wise
Like a wild beast of love, and perchance to be smitten
By some hand that I rather had wept on than bitten.
Oh, I once had a haunt near a cot where a mother
Daily sat in the shade with her child, and would smother
Its eyelids in kisses, and then in its sleep.
Sang dreams in its ear of its manhood, while deep
In a thicket of willows I gazed o'er the brooks
That murmur'd between us and kiss'd them with looks;
But the willows unbosom’d their secret, and never
I return’d to a spot I had startled for ever,
Though I oft long'd to know, but could ask it of none,
Was the mother still fair, and how big was her son?
For the haunters of fields they all shunn'd me by flight,
The men in their horror, the women in fright;
None ever remain'd save a child once that sported
Among the wild bluebells and playfully courted
The breeze; and beside him a speckled snake lay
Tight strangled, because it had hiss'd him away
From the flow'r at his finger; he rose and drew near
Like a Son of Immortals, one born to no fear,
But with strength of black locks and with eyes azure bright
To grow to large manhood of merciful might.
He came, with his face of bold wonder, to feel
The hair of my side, and to lift up my heel,
And question'ă my face with wide eyes; but when under
My lids he saw tears—for I wept at his wonder,
He strokcd me and utter'd such kindliness then
That the once love of women, the friendship of men
In past sorrow, no kindness e'er came like a kiss
On my heart in its desolate day such as this !
And I yearn'd at his cheeks in my love, and down bent,
And lifted him up in my arms with intent
To kiss him—but he cruel-kindly, alas !
Held out to my lips a pluck'd handful of grass!
Then I dropt him in horror, but felt as I fled
The stone he indignantly hurl'd at my head,
That dissever'd my ear-but I felt not, whose fate
Was to meet more distress in his love than his hate!

Thus I wander'd companion'd of grief and forlorn Till I wish'd for that land where my being was born, But what was that land with its love where my home Was self-shut against me; for why should I come Like an after-distress to my grey-bearded father With a blight to the last of his sight?- let him rather Lament for me dead, and shed tears in the urn Where I was not, and still in fond memory turn To his son even such as he left him. Oh how Could I walk with the youth once my fellows, but now Like Gods to my humbled estate?-ör how bear The steeds once the pride of my eyes and the care Of my hands? Then I turn'd me self-banish'd and came Into Thessaly here, where I met with the same As myself. I have heard how they met by a stream In games, and were suddenly changed by a scream That made wretches of many, as she roli'd her wild eyes Against heav'n and so vanish'.--The gentle and wise Lose their thoughts in deep studies-and others their ill In the mirth of mankind where they mingle them still.


(Written in half an hour, while attending a Summons.)
Art thou Solicitor for all thy tribe?

That thus I now behold thee one that comes
Down amid Bail-above, and Under-scribe,

To sue for crumbs ?-
Away! 'tis vain to ogle round the square,

I fear thou hast no head-
To think to get thy bread,

Where Lawyers are !
Say—hast thou pull’d some sparrow o'er the coals,

And flitted here a summons to indite ?
I only hope no cursed judicial kite

Has struck thee off the Rolls !
I scarce should deem thee of the Law-and yet,

Thine eye is keen and quick enough--and still,
Thou bear'st thyself with perk and tiny fret :-
But then how desperately short thy Bill !

How quickly might'st thou be of that bereft!

A sixth tax'd off-how little would be left!
Art thou on summons come, or order bent ?-

Tell me for I am sick at heart to know !
Say,-in the sky is there distress for rent

That thou hast flitted to the Courts below?
If thou wouldst haul some sparrow o'er the coals,
And wouldst his spirit hamper and perplex-

Go to John Boddy-he's available-
Sign-swear-and get a bill of Middlesex

Returnable (mind,-bailable!)
On Wednesday after the morrow of All Souls.
Or dost thou come a sufferer? I see-

I see thee “ cast thy bail-ful eyes around ;"
Oh, call James White, and he will set thee free,
He, and John Baines, will speedily be bound,

In double the sum,

That thou wilt come
And meet the Plaintiff Bird on legal ground.
But stand, oh, stand aside,- for look,

Judge Best, on no fantastic toe,
Through dingy arch-by dirty nook,
Across the yard into his room doth go:-

And wisely there doth read
Summons for time to plead,-

And frame

Order for same.
Thou twittering, legal, foolish, feather'd thing,

A tiny boy, with salt for Latitat,
Is sneaking, Bailiff-like, to touch thy wing ;-

Can'st thou not see the trick he would be at?
Away!-away! and let him not prevail.

I do rejoice thou'rt off!-- and yet I groan
To read in that boy's silly fate, my own:

I am at fault!
For from my Attic though I brought my salt,
I've fail'd to put a little on thy tale!


No. IV.

JOHN TIPTOFT, EARL OF WORCESTER. In the Harleian Manuscripts, No. this nobleman's capture and execu« 2194, p. 11, is a curious account of tion. It is as follows:

John De Vere, Earl of Oxford, was commissionated by Kinge Henry the Sixt lord high steward att the arraignement of John Lord Tiptoft, who flyinge from the battaile of Wakefeild, was found on the topp of a high tree in the forrest of Way-bridge, not farr from Huntington, and brought up to London, where vpon the 15th day of October, in the yeare of our Lord 1469, hee was arraigned att Westminster, and indicted of Treason, and many other crymes, wch were hardly vrged against him, the rather because hee was a favourett of Edward the fowrth ; and receaved the sentence of death, wch the munday following was executed on Tower Hill, by cuttinge off his head.

This Lord was commonly called The Butcher of England, for his cruelty, and when the sheriffes of London had taken him from the barr in Westmine ster to leade him to the block on Tower Hill, the people preased soe importunately to see and behold him, that they were fayne to turne into the Fleete and there to borrowe Gaole for him for that night.

Hee cooke his death full patiently, and his corpes, withe the head, was borne to the Blackfryers and there honourablie buried in the chapell stande inge in the body of the church wch hee before tyme had founded.

Stow insinuates, that the Earl of called him ; whilst it would be but Worcester’s cruelty, (for which he re- fair to suppose, that the disgraceful ceived the opprobrious title of butcher) events that succeeded the execution, was the circumstance of his having were committed by inferior agents sat in judgment on Clapham and his without the knowledge or connivance associates, who were taken, off South- of the Earl. ampton, and upon whose bodies, The Earl of Worcester's great after death, indignities were com- work was his Translation of Cicero mitted, worthy only of the most sa- De Amicitiâ, which was printed by vage and brutal ages: it seems hard, Caxton, in 1481. His printer ins however, to tax Lord Worcester with dulges in high commendation of the cruelty for presiding at a trial which noble translator, and speaks of him his sovereign, Edward the Fourth, as eminently learned, and the subject commanded, and to which his office of universal applause : of Lord High Constable peculiarly

Remembre hym that translated it in to our maternal and Englyssh tongue, (says Caxton,) I mene the right vertuous and noble erle therle of Wurcestre, whiche late pytously lost his lyf, whos soule I recommende vnto youre special prayers; and also in his tyme made many other vertuous werkys, whiche I haue herd of. O good blessyd lord god, (he continues) what grete losse was it of that noble vertuous and wel disposed lord! whan I remembre and aduerty se his lyf, his science, and his vertue, me thynketh god not displesyd, ouer grete a losse of suche a man, consyderyng his estate and conning. And also thexcercise of the same: with the grete laboures in gooyng on pylgremage vnto Jherusalem visytyng there the holy places that oure blessyd lord Jhesu Criste halowed thith his blessyd presence, and shedyng there his precious blood for oure redempcion. And from thens ascended vnto his fader in heuen. And what worship had he at Rome in the presence of oure holy fader the pope. And so in alle other places vnto his deth, at whiche deth euery man that was there myght lerne to dye and take his deth paciently, wherin I hope and doubte not but that god receyued his soule in to his euirlastyng blysse, ffor as I am enformed he ryght aduysedly ordeyned alle his thynges as well for his last will of wordly goodes as for his sowle helthes

Vol. VI.


and pacyently and holyly without grudchyng in charyte to fore that he departed out of this world, whiche is gladsom and joyous to here. Thenne 1. here recommende his sowle ynto youre prayers and also that we at our departyng maye departe in suche wyse, that it maye please our lord god to receyue vs in to his euirlastyng blysse. Amen. Explicit per Caxton.

The foregoing extract gives the was paid to Lord Worcester at reader a fair specimen of the prologue Rome; he has not told us, what may and epilogue usual with the father of be learnt from another quarter, that English typography, and for that his Lordship’s learning retrieved the reason we have reprinted it. The English character for literature, in second edition of Lord Worcester's Italy; and that when he addressed a tract had not been discovered by Lord Latin speech to the Pope, his HoliOrford, nor has Mr. Dibdin recorded ness was so affected at the elegance it in his list of Pynson's publications; and spirit of the oration, that he acalthough from the type and other si- tually burst into tears, and declared milarities, there can be no doubt of that he alone, of all the nobles of his its having issued from that press. It age, could be compared with the is a thin folio of eighteen leaves, most_illustrious princes of Greece wanting Caxton's introduction and and Rome. - Te solùm enim omcolophon; | Tullius de amicicia, in nium principum, (says John Phreas) Englysh. Here after ensueth a goodly verbis autem utar quibus usus est ad treatyse of amyte or frendshyp, com- te Pius secundus, pontifex maximus, pylyd in latyn by the most eloquente lacrymans præ gaudio, cum te auRomayne Marcus Tullius Cicero, and diretorantem, te solùm, inquam, lately translated in to Englyshe. Of omnium principum hæc nostra conthis, the only copy known belonged spexit ætas, quem virtute et eloto King Henry the seventh, and is quentiâ præstantissimis ipsis Romanow in the British Museum.

norum et Græcorum imperatoribus Caxton recounts the worship that comparare possimus.”

JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF ROCHESTER. The following account of the death bility. The writer (and we print it of this well-known character is re- from the original document) was Mr. ferred to by the ingenious Editor of William Thomas, who held an offiLord Orford; but it is too good an cial situation in Lord Oxford's faillustration to be omitted in these mily. detached notices of our English no

When Wilmot Lord Rochester lay on his death-bed, Mr. Fanshaw came to visit him with an intention to stay about a week with him. Mr. Fanshaw sitting by the bed side perceived his lordship praying to God through Jesus Christ, and acquainted Dr. Radcliff (who attended my lord R. in this illness, and was then in the house) with what he had heard, and told him, that my lord was certainly delirous, for to his knowledge (he said) he believed neither in God nor Jesus Christ. The Dr. (who had often heard him pray in the same manner) proposed to Mr. F. to go up to his lordship to be further satisfyed touching this affair. When they came to his room, the Dr. told my Lord what Mr. F. said, upon which his Lordship addressed himself to Mr. F. to this effect: “Sir, it is true, you and I have been very lewd and prophane together, and then I was of the opinion you mention; but now I am quite of another mind, and happy am I, that I am so. I am very sensible how miserable I was, whilst of another opinion. Sir, you may assure yourself that there is a Judge and a Future State ;” and so entered into a very handsome discourse concerning the last judgment, future state, and concluded with a serious and pathetick exhortation to Mr. F. to enter into another course of life, adding that he (Mr. F.) knew him to be his friend, that he never was more so than at this time,' “ and, Sir, (said he) to use a scripture expression, I am not mad, but speak the words of truth and soberness. Upon this Mr. F. trembled and went immediately afoot to Woodstock, and there hired a horse to Oxford, and thence took coach to London. At the same time, Dr. Shorter (who also attended my Lord in this illness) and Dr. Radcliff walking together in the park, and discoursing touching his

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Lordship’s condition, which they agreed to be past remedy, Dr. Shorter, fetching a very deep sigh, said, “Well, I can do him no good, but he has done me a great deal.” When Dr. Radcliff caine to reside in London, he made enquiry about Dr. Shorter, and understood he was, before that time, a libertine in principles, but after that professed the Roman Catholick Religion.

I heard Dr. Radcliff give this account at my Lord Oxford's table (then Speaker of the House of Commons) June 16, 1702. Present (besides Mr. Speaker) Lord Weymouth, Mr. Bromley of Warwickshire, Mr. William Harvey, Mr. Pendarvis, Mr. Henry St. John, and I wrote it down immediately.

WM. THOMAS. We are not ignorant that it has We conclude this article with two been much the fashion of late years, original letters of Lord Rochester, of as it was indeed in the early part of no great interest, to be sure, but still the last century, to doubt the since- curious, as they show the straits to rity of Lord Rochester's repentance; which he was at times reduced, give and it has been more than once insi- a fair specimen of his familiar style, nuated, that Bishop Burnet made the and have, we believe, escaped public most of the matter in the account cation, notwithstanding the diligence he printed, in 1680, of this noble- of Biscoe, Curl], and Dodsley, who man's conversion. The testimony ransacked every corner for even a just adduced seems, however, very scrap of his Lordship’s corresponddecisive.

ence. · I kiss my deare wife a thousand times as farr as imagination and wish will give me leave: Thinke upon mee as long as it is pleasant and convenient to you to doe soe, and afterwards forgett mee, for though I would faine make you the author and foundation of my happiness, yet would I not bee the cause of your constraint and disturbance, for I love not myselfe soe much as I doe you, neither do I value my owne satisfaction equally as I doe your's.

Farewell.-ROCHESTER. Deare wise, I recover soe slowly, and relaps soe continually, that I am allmost weary of my self. If I had the least strength I would come to Adderbury, but in the condition I am, Kensington and back is a voyage I can hardly support. I hope you excuse my sending you noe money, for till I am well enough to fetch it my self, they will not give me a farthing; and if I had not pawn’d my plate, I believe I must have starv'd in my sickness. Well, God bless you and the children, whatever becomes of

Your humble servant, ROCHESTER.


Elia, thy reveries and vision'd themes

To Care's lorn heart a luscious pleasure prove ;
Wild as the mystery of delightful dreams,

Soft as the anguish of remember'd love :
Like records of past days their memory dances

Mid the cool feelings Manhood's reason brings,
As the unearthly visions of romances

Peopled with sweet and uncreated things;
And yet thy themes thy gentle worth enhances !

Then wake again thy wild harp's tenderest strings,
Sing on, sweet Bard, let fairy loves again

Smile in thy dreams, with angel ecstacies;
Bright o'er our souls will break the heavenly strain

Through the dull gloom of earth's realities.

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