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HoVre'er exalted or deprest,
Be ever mine the feeling breast.
From me remove the stagnant mind
Of languid indolence, reclin'd;
The soul that one long sabbath keeps,
And through the sun's whole circle sleep*.
Dull peace, that dwells in Folly's eye,
And self-attendant vanity.
Alike the foolish and the vain,
Are strangers to the sense humane.
O, for that sympathetic glow,
It comes, it fills my labouring breast.
Life, fill'd with Grief's distressful train,
Parent of virtue, if thine ear
Attend not now to sorrow's cry;
Should haply on thy cheek be dry,
COUNT GLEICHEN AND THE FAIR SARACEN.
•' Love, various minds does variously inspire;
When a holy zeal to drive the Infidels from the Holy Land had seized all Europe, and the pious knights, bearing the badge of the cross, repaired in crowds to the cast, Count Gleichen also left his native land, and with his friends and countrymen went to Asia. I shall not describe his heroic achievments; I shall content myself with saying,that the bravest knights of Christendom admired bis prowess, but it pleased Heaven to try the hero's faith. Count Gleichen was made prisoner by the Infidels, and became the slave to a Muhamedan of distinction, who intrusted his gardens to Gleichen's care. The unfortunate count was now employed in watering violets and blue-bells, lilies and roses. The hero long endured the horrors of captivity; but all his sighs and vows would have been ineffectual, if a fair Saracen, his master's lovely daughter, had not begun to regard him with looks of the tenderest affection. Often, concealed beneath the veil of night, did she listen to his melancholy songs—often did she see him weep, whilst praying, and her beauteous eyes were likewise suffused in tears. A modest shame, the peculiar virtue of a youthful feinale heart, long prevented her from declaring her passionj or from intimating, in any manner, to the slave how deeply she sympathised in his sorrows. At length the spark kindled into a flame, shame was silenced, and love could no longer be concealed in her heart, but poured in fiery torrents from her mouth into the soul of the astonished count. Her angelic innocence, her blooming beauty, and the idea that by Tier means he might, perhaps, be able to obtain his liberty; all this made such a powerful impression on his mind, that he forgot his wife. He swore eternal love to the beauteous Saracen, on condition that she would agree to leave father and native land, and fly with him to Europe. Ah! she had already forgotten her father and her country. The count was her all. She hastens away, brings a key, opens a private door leading to the fields, and flies away with her beloved. The silence of night, which covered them with her sable mantle, favours their flight. They arrive safely in the country
of the count: his vassals joyfully greet their lord and
father, whom they had given up for lost, and with
looks of curiosity beheld his companion, whose face is
concealed beneath a veil. On their arrival at the
castle, the countess rushes into his embrace—" That
you, my dear wife, see me again," said he, "you have
to thank her, pointing to his deliverer; she has, for my
sake, left her father and her native land." The count
covers his streaming eyes with his hands; the beauteous
Saracen drops her veil, and throwing herself at the
feet of the countess, exclaims, "I am thy vassal!"—
"Thou art my sister," replied the countess, raising
and embracing her. "My husband shall be thine also;
•we will share his heart." The count, astonished at the
magnanimity of his wife, presses her to his heart; all
these are united in one embrace, and they swear to love
each other till death. Heaven blessed this threefold
union, and the pope himself confirmed it. The count's
habitation was the abode of peace and happiness, and
he,' with his two faithful wives, were, after their death,
laid in one grave. A large stone covers it, on which
the chissel of sensibility has represented them*.
* Their tomb is to be seen in the Benedictine convent at Erfurth, in Germany.
T.IK ANNIVERSARY OF THB CHINESE EMPEHOS't BIRTH-DAT.
"Hast thou not seen my morning chambers fill'd With sceptred slaves, who waited to salute me?" Diyou.
The fallowing Account, given by Lord Macartney, of the Emperor'l Birth-day Solemnitiet, in China, tchich his Lordship H« obligingly permitted Mr. harrow to extract from his Journal, mill serve to convey to our Readers a tolerably exact Idea sf the State, Pleaiures, and Amusementi of the great Monarchtf that celebrated Country.
The 17th of September being the emperor's birth-day, we set out for the court*, at three o'clock in the morning, conducted by Van-ta-gin, Chou-ta-gin, and our usual attendants. We reposed ourselves, about two hours, in a large saloon at the entrance of the palace inclosure, where fruit-trees, warm milk, and other refreshments were brought to us. At last, notice was given that the festival was going to begin, and we immediately descended into the garden, where we found all the great men and mandarins, in their robes of state, drawn up before the imperial pavilion. The x /
* The court then resided at the palace of Yeuen-min Yeuen, at some distance from Pekin. Some writer has observed, that the king of England is worse lodged, at St James's palace, than any sovereign of Europe. But Mr. Barrow assens, that were he to compare some of the imperial palaces in China to any royal residence in Europe, it would certainly be to St. James's; but the apartments, the furniture, and conveniences of the latter, bad as they are, infinitely, according to his account, transcend any of those in China.