wedded union, cast discredit alike upon her conjugal and maternal character.

Lady Craven, on resigning her domestic offices, made a tour on the continent of Europe, and through several parts of Asia, sojourning at Paris, Madrid, Lisbon, Vienna, Berlin, Warsaw, St. Petersburgh, Rome, Florence, Naples, and Anspach.

In 1787, she descended into the grotto of Antiparos, being the first woman known to have hazarded that achievement. In 1789, she published a series of letters relating her Travels through the Crimea to Constantinople.

On the 26th of September, 1791, Lord Craven died; and on the 13th of October, in the same year, his widow married His Serene Highness Christian-Frederick, Margrave of Brandenburgh, Anspach, and Bayreuth, who, having sold his small sovereignty to his kinsman the King of Prussia, came with his wife to live in England. At their well-known place of abode at Hammersmith, called Brandenburgh House, amusement constituted the sole business of life. He had a passionate fondness for horses, and a secondary fondness for the drama. The Margravine built a private theatre, wrote plays and operas, and delighted in all the preliminaries of stage exhibition; as well as in assembling around her multitudes of fashionable people to applaud her devices, and to yield compensatory homage for her exclusion from the British Court.

After this

In December, 1805, the Margrave died. event the Margravine left England, and alleviated her grief by change of scene.

In 1825, she published her Memoirs.' In the society of her favourite son, the Hon. Keppel Craven, she spent her last years at Naples; inhabiting a villa which she had amused herself by building, and there she drew her last

breath, in the month of January, 1828, at the ripe age of seventy-seven. The best of her poems is 'The Fairy's Answer,' addressed to Mrs. Greville. Frances, daughter of James Macartney, Esq., married Fulke Greville, Esq., of Wilbury, Wiltshire, only son of Algernon, second son of Fulke Greville, fifth Baron Brooke. Mrs. Greville had five sons and one daughter, Frances-Anne, who inherited her mother's wit, and has won perpetual remembrance as "the beautiful Mrs. Crewe." In 1756, Mrs. Greville published a book called 'Maxims and Characters.' The only known survivor of her mental productions is :

A PRAYER FOR INDIFFERENCE.

"Oft I've implored the gods in vain,

And pray'd till I've been weary,
For once I'll try my wish to gain
Of Oberon the fairy.

Sweet airy being, wanton sprite,
That lurk'st in woods unseen,
And oft by Cynthia's silver light
Trip'st gaily o'er the green;

If e'er thy pitying heart was mov'd,
As ancient stories tell,

And for th' Athenian maid who lov'd,

Thou sought'st a wondrous spell;

Oh! deign once more t' exert thy power;
Haply some herb or tree,
Sov'reign as juice of western flower,
Conceals a balm for me.

I ask no kind return of love,

No tempting charm to please :
Far from the heart those gifts remove,
That sighs for peace and ease.

Nor peace nor ease the heart can know,
Which, like the needle true,

Turns at the touch of joy or woe,
But, turning, trembles too.

Far as distress the soul can wound,
'T is pain in each degree:

"T is bliss but to a certain bound;
Beyond is agony.

:

Take then this treacherous sense of mine,
Which dooms me still to smart:
Which pleasure can to pain refine :
To pains new pangs impart.
Oh, haste to shed the sacred balm !
My shatter'd nerves new string;
And for my guest, serenely calm,
The nymph Indifference bring.
At her approach, see Hope, see Fear,
See Expectation fly;

And Disappointment in the rear,
That blasts the promis'd joy.

The tear which Pity taught to flow,
The eye shall then disown;
The heart that melts for others' woe
Shall then scarce feel its own.

The wounds which now each moment bleed,
Each moment then shall close,

And tranquil days shall still succeed
To nights of calm repose.

Oh fairy elf! but grant me this,

This one kind comfort send;

And so may never-fading bliss
Thy flow'ry paths attend.

So may the glow-worm's glimmering light
Thy tiny footsteps lead

To some new region of delight,

Unknown to mortal tread.

And be thy acorn goblet fill'd

With heaven's ambrosial dew;

From sweetest, freshest flow'rs distill'd,

That shed fresh sweets for you.

And what of life remains for me
I'll pass in sober ease;

Half pleas'd, contented will I be,
Content but half to please."

THE FAIRY'S ANSWER.

"Without preamble, to my friend These hasty lines I'm bid to send,

Or give, if I am able;

I dare not hesitate to say

Though I have trembled all the day,

It looks so like a fable

Last night's adventure is my theme;
And should it strike you as a dream,
Yet soon its high import

Must make you own the matter such,
So delicate, it were too much
To be compos'd in sport.
Fair Luna shone serenely bright,
And every star bedeck'd the night,
While Zephyr fanned the trees :

No sound assail'd my mind's repose,
Save that yon stream, which murmuring flows,
Still echo'd to the breeze.

Enwrapt in solemn thoughts I sate,
Revolving o'er the turns of fate,
Yet void of hope or fear;
When lo! behold an airy throng,
With lightest steps, and jocund song,
Surpris'd my eye and ear.

A form superior to the rest
His little voice to me addrest,

And gently thus began:

I've heard strange things from one of you,
Pray tell me if you think 't is true;

Explain it if you can.

Such incense has perfumed my throne,
Such eloquence my heart has won,

I think I guess the hand:

I know her wit and beauty too,

But why she sends a prayer so new

I cannot understand.

To light some flames, and some revive,
To keep some others just alive,

Full oft I am implor'd :

But, with peculiar power to please,

To supplicate for nought but ease,

"T is odd upon my word!

Tell her, with fruitless care I've sought,

And though my realms, with wonders fraught,

In remedies abound,

No grain of cold Indifference
Was ever yet allied to Sense,
In all my Fairy round.

The regions of the sky I'd trace,
I'd ransack every earthly place,

Each leaf, each herb, each flower,
To mitigate the pangs of Fear,
Dispel the clouds of black Despair,
Or lull the restless hour.

I would be generous as I'm just,
But I obey, as others must,

Those laws which Fate has made;
My tiny kingdom how defend,
And what might be the horrid end,
Should man my state invade.

"I would put your mind into a rage,
And such unequal war to wage

Suits not my regal duty!

I dare not change a first decree,

She's doom'd to please, nor can be free-
Such is the lot of beauty!'

This said, he darted o'er the plain,
And after follow'd all his train;
No glimpse of him I find;
But sure I am, the little sprite
These words, before he took his flight,
Imprinted on my mind."