Her sister having married Colonel Graham, of Duchray, Perthshire, Miss Blamire accompanied them to his home, and resided there with them for several years, delighting herself with the music, the legends, and the poetry of Scotland.

She died unmarried, at Carlisle, in 1794. Her poems were published in 1842, with a memoir, by Patrick Maxwell.

THE NABOB.

"When silent Time, wi' lightly foot,
Had trod on thirty years,

I sought again my native land,
Wi' mony hopes and fears.

Wha kens gin the dear friends I left
May still continue mine?

Or gin I e'er again shall taste
The joys I left langsyne?

As I drew near my ancient pile,
My heart beat a' the way,

Ilk place I passed seemed yet to speak

O' some dear former day;

Those days that followed me afar,

Those happy days o' mine,

Whilk made me think the present joys

A' nothing to langsyne.

The ivied tower now met my eye,
Where minstrels used to blaw;

Nae friend stepped forth wi' open hand,
Nae weel kenned face I saw,
"Till Donald tottered to the door,
Wham I left in his prime,
And grat to see the lad return,
He bore about langsyne.

I ran to ilka dear friend's room,
As if to find them there,

I knew where ilk ane used to sit,
And hung o'er many a chair;
Till soft remembrance threw a veil
Across these e'en o' mine,

I closed the door, and sobbed aloud,
To think on auld langsyne.

Some pensy chiels, a new sprung race,
Wad next their welcome pay,

Wha shuddered at my Gothic wa's

And wished my groves away.

'Cut, cut, they cried, those aged elms,
Lay low yon mournfu' pine,'

Na! na! our fathers' names grow there,
Memorials o' langsyne.

To wean me frae these waefu' thoughts,
They took me to the toun,

But sair on ilka weel-kenned face

I missed the youthfu' bloom.
At balls they pointed to a nymph
Wham a' declared divine,

But sure her mother's blushing cheeks
Were fairer far langsyne.

In vain I sought in music's sound
To find that magic art,

Which oft in Scotland's ancient lays
Has thrilled through a' my heart.
The sang had mony an artfu' turn,
My ear confessed 'twas fine,
But missed the simple melody

I listened to langsyne.

Ye sons to comrades o' my youth,

Forgie an auld man's spleen,

Wha midst your gayest scenes still mourns

The days he ance has seen.

When time has passed and seasons fled,
Your hearts will feel like mine;
And aye the sang will maist delight
That minds ye o' langsyne."

MARY ROBINSON.

Mary Darby was of obscure birth, and a native of the city of Bristol. When very young she married a Mr. Robinson, the illegitimate son of Mr. Thomas Harris of Tregunter, in the parish of Talgarth, Breconshire. To the exquisite scenery around that lovely retreat, and to her solitary readings and musings there, she attributes in her memoir those graces of manner, and that taste for literature which subsequently added fresh charms to her personal advantages.

Her husband having brought her to London, she went upon the stage in order to increase their small income. Here her extraordinary beauty soon rendered her at once.

famous and infamous in the character of Shakspeare's 'Perdita.'

Under the signature of Laura Maria,' she wrote for the magazines in the style of the Della Cruscan rhymers; she also published the novel of Vancenza,' and two volumes of her collected poems.

She died in poverty at a cottage on Englefield Green, December 26, 1800, at the age of forty. Her autobiography and literary remains were afterwards published for the benefit of her only child, a daughter. Her writings are not devoid of talent or of sentiment. The following is a specimen of her verse :

SONNET TO TIME.

"Insatiate Despot! whose resistless arm,
Shatters the loftiest fabric from its base;
And tears from beauty ev'ry magic charm,
And robs proud nature of her loveliest grace.
Still art thou kind, for as thy pow'r prevails,
And age comes onward, menacing decay;
As warmth expires, and numbing frost assails,
And life's faint lamp presents a quiv'ring ray;
'Tis thine to reconcile the tranquil breast,
To prove that sublunary joys are vain;
To turn from pomp, and all its tinsel train,
And seek the silent paths of mental rest:
So, from the deadliest poison chymic art,

Extracts a healing balm to tranquillize the heart."

"The Muse instructed a well-nurtured train
Of abler votaries to cleanse the stain,
And claim the palm for purity of song."

COWPER'S Table Talk.'

CAROLINE SYMMONS.

THE third volume of the Censura Literaria' makes mention of this promising young girl, who was the daughter of the Rev. Dr. Symmons, author of a Life of Milton. She died June 1, 1803, at the age of fourteen. When only twelve years old she wrote "The Flower Girl,' which was first published by Archdeacon Wrangham with his poem of 'The Raising of Jairus's Daughter,' in 1804, accompanied by a brief memoir of the authoress. A genuine talent for versification, and a mind capable of realizing the situation of others and entering into their feelings, appear in these verses, superficial and juvenile as they

are:

THE FLOWER GIRL.

"Come buy my wood harebells, my cowslips come buy,
Oh, take my carnations and jessamines sweet,
Lest their beauties should wither, their perfume should die,
Ah, snatched like myself from their native retreat.

Oh ye, who in pleasure and luxury live,

Whose bosoms would sink beneath half my sad woes,
Ah, deign to my cry a kind answer to give,

And shed a soft tear for the fate of poor Rose.
Yet once were my days happy, sweet, and serene,
And once have I tasted the balm of repose;
But now on my cheek meagre famine is seen,
And anguish prevails in the bosom of Rose.

Then buy my wood harebells, my cowslips come buy,

Oh, take my carnations and jessamines sweet,

Lest their beauties should wither, their perfume should die,
Ah, snatched like myself from their native retreat."

ELIZABETH CARTER.

No woman was ever placed, from first to last, in circumstances more favourable to the calm and easy gratification of literary tendencies, more beloved and honoured for her mental acquirements and moral qualities, or more amply and gratuitously rewarded for the social benefits which she conferred, than Elizabeth Carter. Her father was the Rev. Nicholas Carter, D.D., perpetual curate of Deal. Her mother, his first wife, was the only daughter of Richard Swayne, Esq., of Bere, in Dorsetshire. She was their eldest daughter, and born at Deal, Dec. 16, 1717.

Dr. Carter himself undertook the labour of educating his numerous children, imparting to boys and girls alike instructions in the Latin and Greek languages. The mind of his eldest daughter was so dull and slow of apprehension, that he almost despaired of ever making her a scholar, and would have given up the attempt if her resolute and indefatigable perseverance as a child had not struggled incessantly against all obstacles. To be good and to be learned were the earliest objects of her ambition, and with unabated energy she steadfastly pursued them through life. She could never acquire grammar as a rudimentary theory, but after having attained great proficiency in the Greek and Latin languages, she deduced