Star of the dark and stormy sea, When wrecking tempests round us rave, Thy gentle virgin form we see Bright rising o'er the hoary wave. The howling storm that seems to crave Their victims, sink in music sweet; The surging seas recede to pave The path beneath thy glistening feet. Ave Maris Stella! Star of the desart waters wild, Who pitying hears the seaman's cry, The God of mercy, as a child, On that chaste bosom loves to lie; While soft the chorus of the sky Their hymns of tender mercy sing, And angel voices name on high, The mother of the heavenly King. Ave Maris Stella. Star of the deep! at that blest name The tempest wild their fury tame That made the deep's foundations reel: Ave Maris Stella! Star of the mild and placid seas, The Star of Ocean glitters bright. Ave Maris Stella! Star of the deep! when angel lyres To mingle in the mighty lay! Ave Maris Stella! MR OLDSCHOOL, I send you, for publication in the Port Folio, a Persian Ode of Hafiz, translated by the late Sir WILLIAM JONES. The translator, who was as much distinguished for good taste, as he was for great learning and extensive research, observes—“The wildness and simplicity of this Persian song pleased me so much, that I have attempted to translate it in verse: the reader will excuse the singularity of the measure which I have used, if he considers the difficulty of bringing so many eastern proper names into our stanzas. I have endeavoured, as far as I was able, to give my translation the easy turn of the original; and I have, as nearly as possible, imitated the cadence and accent of the Persian measure; from which every reader, who understands music, will perceive that the Asiatic numbers are capable of as regular a melody as any are in Metastasio." As many of your readers are not versed in Persian literature, nor familiar with all the works of our learned translator, I presume this elegant little piece will not be an unacceptable pre sent. A PERSIAN SONG. Yours, &c. J. C. Sweet maid, if thou wouldst charm my sight, And bid these arms thy neck infold; That rosy cheek, that lily hand Would give thy poet more delight Boy, let yon liquid ruby flow, But ah! sweet maid, my counsel hear; A melted ruby is a common periphrasis for wine in the Persian poetry. See Hafiz, ode 22. † Zoleikha, Potiphar's wife. + Joseph. What cruel answer have I heard! And yet, by heaven, I love thee still: The nymph for whom those notes are sung! It is known to most of our readers that when the prize for an address on the opening of Drury-lane theatre, was awarded to lord Byron, the town was for a long time amused by the complaints of disappointed candidates, and the raillery of all the wits of London. Among the latter were two young lawyers by the name of Smith, who imagined the plan of parodying the manner of all the distinguished poets of England, in a collection of addresses supposed to have been rejected. From this merry volume, we select the follow ing parody of Walter Scott, which is much superior to Colman's, and indeed bears more the character of Scott's style than any of the burlesque imitations of him. After an introduction in the ancient manner, and a description of the night, for which we have not room, the poet proceeds to the burning of the theatre. THE BURNING. As chaos which, by heavenly doom, When light first flash'd upon her eyes: In bedgown woke her dames, For shouts were heard mid fire and smoke, "The Playhouse is in flames." And lo! where Catherine Street extends, To every window pane: . Blushes each spout in Martlet Court, A bright ensanguin'd drain: Meux's new brewhouse shows the light, Nor these alone, but far and wide To those who on the hills around It seem'd that nations did conspire, Some vast stupendous sacrifice! VOL. I. Then jacket thick of red or blue, 3 H |