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THE OYSTER.
TWO comrades, as grave authors say,

(But in what chapter, page, or line,

Ye critics, if ye please, define,)
Had found an oyster in their way;
Contest and foul debate arose:
Both viewed at once with greedy eyes,

Both challenged the delicions prize,
And bigh words soon improved to blows.
Actions on actions hence succeed,

Each hero's obstinately stout,
Green bags and parchment Ay about;
Pleadings are drawn, and counsel fee'd.
The parson of the place, good man!

Whose kind and charitable heart

In human ills still bore a part, Thrice shook his head, and ibus began : “ Neighbours and friends. refer to me

This doughty matter in dispute,

I'll soon decide the important suit,
And finish all without a fee.
Give me the oyster, then---'tis well”

He opens it, and at one sup
Gulps the contested trifle up,
And smiling gives to each a shell.
“ Henceforth let foolish Jiscord cease,

Your oyster's good as e'er was eat,

I thank you for my dainty treat :
God bless you both, and live in peace.”

S. R.

CHRIST'S INVITATION TO SINNERS,

Matt. xi. 28, 29, 30. OH, ye who sink beneath your weight of woes, Come unto me, and ye shall find repose. Come, learn of me, I lowly am, and meek ; Come, and your souls shall find the l'est they seek. Take my yoke on you, easy 'tis to bear; Bear but my burden, and my bliss you share. "Jan. 1, 1821.

J. R.

TO LIBERTY'v'i - 1.0 AWAKE, thou blest spirit, that sleep’st with the dead! The mountain top's fragrance awaken, and shed Ou the smoke-eawreathed cities of soul-stifled men; Let them taste the fresh breezes of Freedom again! Oh Liberty, dear! who from heaven descended When lite first began, and shalt stay till 'tis ended, Thou long time hast slumber'd, now rise from thy pillow, And wipe off the dewdrops that dripped from the willow. No more sit deploring, thus sadly oʻersbaded, Thy armour so tarnished, its lustre so faded; Pai it on as it is, in the cause of the jast, The blood of oppressors shall cleanse it froni just! No longer with tears thy soiled laurels bedew, Thy sorrows will never their beaụty renew : Away to the field, then, distingnish the brave, Their blossom blows best over Tyranny's grave! Thy heroes are dead, with the minstrels who fired them, The bold hearts are still with the hands that hispired The harp, too, that swelled their proud breasts in the

fight, Is mute, or but heard 'mid the revels of night. But rouse thee, and fly to the field where they lay, While yet the warm life-stream doth sodden their clay, While beams in their eyes the blest spirit of pride, For which they have fought, and for which they baye

died! Thou yet may'st redeem, not their armoar sở bright, Nor helms with plumes waving so lovely and light; Ah no! they have stripped them, and left them to lie, With gore for their clothing, their covering the sky! Thou y t njay'st redeem, not the bright steet they

1$ welded The scarfs which adorned them, or bucklers that shield. Their glory, too, fell when their masters lay low, fed ; And now taintly gleam in the halls of the fue. i

them;

Thou yet may’st redeem, not the life-stream that flowed

From many a bursting, heroic abode,
But, what is far sweeter and dearer than breath---
The sun of their lives, that e'en glittered in death!
Fair sun of their lives! in their eyes thou may'st view
It lights thee a way, and it bids thee pursue it;
They fought and they died for't, well pleased with

their doom,
For virtue shall strew her best flowers o'er their tomb."
Away, then! with death frowning black on thy brow,
Rouse every bold heart with alacrity now; [it,
Blow loud thy shrill trump, tbat thy children may bear
A deep vote, and Heaven's soft pinions shall bear it!
With hearts full of pride, and with souls of devotion,
Thy children shall rush, like earth's streams to the

ocean, Till 'neath thy blest banner, all fresh and unfurled, Are gathered the glory and pride of the world. All grief will be banished, forgotten all sorrow, Each hand and each heart will prepare for the morrow; The maids as they rush from the arms of their mothers, Will tear their long hair for the helms of their brotheis! The light flame of love, and the blush of desire, Shall rise to resentment, and redden to ire; E'en Beauty for Freedom its fair form will yield, And proudly bear Valour's bright arms to the field. And ob, what a scene! how triumphant in glory O'er all man e'er witnessed, or fabled in story; When thou leadest them on to the sphere of the brave, To conquer, or perish with thee in the grave. How blissful the pleasure, how godlike the pride, To triumph with thee, or to die by thy side: And oh, with what rapture shall future tongues tell Of those, who, for Liberty, conquered or fell! And who shall oppose ye? Can tyrants, whose cause Is black as their hearts, and unjust as their laws, Whose soldiers are slaves, (and how few shall they be,) Can they cope with men who are fighting for thee:

Ah no! as the lightening with horrific stroke,
Shoots, glow og with wrath, on some false-hearted oak,
And strews the shocked plain with its trunk and its

boughs, So thou shalt descend on thy impotept fues ! Once mor., then, away: let the breasts of the bold Be now and for ever thy throne and strong bold; For treacherouts and base are the hearts that revile thee, And cursed, and thrice cursed, are the lands that exile thee!

T. C.

EXTEMPORE,
To some young Friends, whosé Ideas are given in the

first two stanzus.
COME, draw round the fire, let us keep ourselves
Iospite of the frost, and the snow,and the storm.(warm,
Let the storm rage without, we have nothing to fear,
We are all well secured from its violenee here.

And, besides, we have plenty of food and of clothes, Not a want, unsupplied, any one of us knows; Then why should we care for the frost or the spow? 'Tis only the poor that need mind that, you kuow." "Tis true we are sheltered, and well clothed and fed, Whilst thousands and thousands are pining for bread; But ought we not, think you, to feel for their grief, And to do all we can to afford them relief? Oh, ought we, unmoved, their distresses to see? Are they not as deserving of kindness as we? And if Heaven has on thein bestowed less than on others, Twas to give them a claim to the aid of their brothers. E’en gratitude, surely, for so much of bliss, Oh ye men of the world, should incite ye to this : Think, think of the comforts that fall to your share, And give that to the needy which well ye can spare. Nor, if ye do this, will ye lose your reward, “He who gives to the poor, does but lend to the Lord;' And how mean all the pleasures your riches can buy, "Toʻlhat heavenly bliss which the good will enjoy!

Jan. 3, 1821.

HORÁCE, ODE 1. PARTLY IMITATED.

SOME are fond of gin and rum,
Avd sensibility; for some
The role of three has great attractions,
And some delight in vulgar fractions,
Multiplication, and division,
And calculate with much precision;
Some study trigonometry,
And fag hard at geometry;
But as for me, arithmetic
Is always sure to make me sick :
Euclid has charms--but not for me,
My chief delight is poetry;
And if my writings you should prize,
(You will, for certain, if you're wise,)
My laureiled head shall strike the skies !

B. O, N,

LINES TO A YOUNG LADY.
THE lovely * * * in sportive mind,
The rose and myrtle once entwined,
And as I gazed upon her face,
And saw the sketch she deigned to trace,
A hope arose within my breast,
By grief I felt no more oppressed,
My blood in quickened currents flowed,
My every pulse with rapture glowed;
Gay visions float before my view,
And life assumes a brighter hue;
When lo! a frown her brow o'ercast,
And like an airy dream they past.
Could'st thou my inward heart behold,
Dared I my secret but unfold,
Soft pity in thy breast would reign
Justead of cruel cold disdain.
“Is there a sterner task of soul,"
Than forced our feelings to controul?
6. The heart against itself to steel,
F'en feigning that we do not feel.

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