Drury revives! her rounded pate
Is blue, is heavenly blue with slate;
She "wings the midway air" elate,

As magpie, crow, or chough;
White paint the modish visage smears,
Yellow and pointed are her ears,
No pendent portico appears

Dangling beneath, for Whitebread's shears
Have cut the bauble off.

Yes, she exalts her, stately head,
And but that solid bulk qutspread
Oppos'd you on your onward tread,,
And posts and pillars warranted
That all was true that Wyatt said,

You might have deem'd her walls so thick,
Were not compos'd of stone or brick,

But all a phantom, all a trick,

Of brain disturb'd and fancy sick,

So high she soars, so vast, so quick.

ORIGINAL POETRY FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

MY FIRST VALENTINE.--1813.

Amadea, mine! my being's queen!

O dost thou heed

This day of love!

When beauty's meed

The homage secret, veiled, unseen

Of the full year!

Expression which all good hearts prove Is wont to be conveyed

To every pleasing, pretty maid.

Angelic maid! O dost thou know

The birds now sing

This day of love!

The new born Spring

Smiles from its magic bed of snow,

The yacinthe rise,

The parted birds no longer rove,

But sprightly now in every grove.
Respond the cheerful voice of love.

Sweet child of love! O dost thou see
All nature smiles

This day of love.

The playful wiles,

The billing kiss on every tree
The peach flowers come.

Gay winds the budding leaflets move,

The pretty birds now woo and pair,

And sing of love and hope, my fair!

Thou most beloved! O may'st thou feel
Within thy breast

This day of love!

To thee confess'd

The warmth, the passion I reveal

MY LOVE, MY HOPE!

Upon thy thought my fate is wove;
Spring and Aurora smile for me
Only as smiles my Amadee!

CAMILDHU

MARIA.

I will not say the maid I love Is fairer than the evening star,

When beautiful o'er hill and grove,
Through falling dews, it gleams afar.

But, O! her goodness, I will say,
Is sweeter for its soothing powers,
Than twilight zephyrs when they play
Through arboured walk of breathing flowers.

I will not call her soul more bright
Than open noon, in summer tide,
Repulsive in its blaze of light,
That dazzles sense on every side.

But, Q, her heart as bland I cali
As sweet, and all as clear from stain,
As the soft moonlight beams that fall
And melt along the moving main.

The love of such a heart would be
Like a bright heavenly cloud sublime,
That should around encompass me
And shut out worldly wo and crime.
Yet, O, can e'er I wish her mine,
My frailties and my griefs to prove!-
I can but wish I were divine,
To love her with an angel's love.

J. M-Y.

MR. OLDSCHOOL,

Should the following poetic tribute to the memory of a worthy minister of the Society of Friends be deemed eligible to a place in your invaluable Port Folio, the insertion of it, I doubt not, will gratify no small portion of your readers. It is the production of a lady of this city; and is offered you in its original dress.

TO THE MEMORY OF MY MUCH

S.

ESTEEMED FRIEND, DANIEL

STANTON, WHO EXCHANGED THIS LIFE FOR A BETTER, JUNE 28th, 1770.

Know ye that there is a prince and a great man fallen this day, in Israel.

2 Sam. iii. 38.

If I be not an apostle to others, yet doubtless I am to you, for the seal of mine apostleship are ye in the Lord.

I need invoke no fabled Muse, to mourn
Or pour feigned sorrow o'er the prophet's urn;
For, Oh! too deep my soul partakes the wo!

1 Cor. ix. 2.

Our Zion feels on such a piercing blow;
Since, in this stroke, no common stroke is found,
A public loss! a painful, bleeding wound;
For know, this day, removed from earth's abode,
A prince, a priest, and prophet to his God;
A faithful labourer in his Master's cause;

A firm asserter of Messiah's laws.

A steady watchman, careful to alarm.

And rouse the camp to action and to arm,

To arm the soul against its mortai foe,
Who well maintained the holy war below.
Laid not his heavenly armour in the dust
To soil its beauty and contract a rust,
But kept its lustre undefiled and clean,
A spotless image-of his soul within;
For, few perhaps, the lot of life endure
With hearts less guilty, or with hands more pure;
Anxious each call of duty to attend,

A powerful teacher and a Christian friend;
While with a cherub's love and seraph's zeal
He taught to know and do his Master's will;
With heaven's acceptance blessed, his favoured mind
Grew daily more enlightened and refined;
Weaned from the earth, sublimed by ardent love;
He panted for the converse known aboye;
Oft winged his flight amidst his kindred blest;
And held communion with the saints released;
For oh, in him conspicuously were joined
The humble Christian watchful and resigned,
For us his painful labours he bestowed:
For us his prayer ascended to his God;
For us he wept, he watched, he led the way,

And oh! to us, the apostle of our day!

Where shall we meet with such a kindred mind?
Where now our interceding Moses find,
To judge aright,-for heaven the flock to guide,
And turn, by prayer, the thunder-bolt aside;
How would his soul in supplication rise
On angel pinions to his native skies!
Implore the mercy, deprecate the rod,
And breathe his soul, enraptured, to his God!
Till glowing with such zeal and love divine
As Heaven approves, and saints perfected join,
His mounting spirit pierced the world unknown,
And gained sweet access to his Father's throne,
And, thus advancing on the Gospel plan,
He glowed with love to God and love to man.

Still pressing forward with a heart resigned,
To heaven devoted, and from earth refined,
The Master called, bade all his labours cease,
And closed his evening in the calm of peace.
The softest touches of Death's awful rod,
Drew back the veil, and winged the saint to God.
There, 'midst the grand assemby held above,
He shares the fulness of Messiah's love.
Not for thy sake, but oh! for ours I mourn,
Friend of my heart! around thy spotless urn.
Nor shall thy memory from my bosom stray,
Till death admits me to your happier day.
There shall my soul, released, unite with thine,
And in your raptured chorus, joyful join.

MORTUARY.-FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

Died, on the 13th of Jan. Mrs. ABIGAIL ENGLESBY, in the 28th year of her age, wife of E. J. ENGLESBY, Esq. It is our melancholy duty to record the death of but few, who possessed so much and such intrinsic worth as Mrs. Englesby. As a companion, she was amiable and interesting; as a friend, sincere and constant, and as a parent faithful and affectionate. She possessed all those excellent qualities, which render the lovely female endearing to her friends, and useful to society. She sustained her several relations in life with much propriety; and was one of the brightest ornaments of the little circle, which composes the society of this village. She possessed

"A mind in wisdom old, in lenience young,

From fervent truth where every virtue sprung;
Where all was real, modest, plain, sincere,

Worth above show, and goodness unsevere."

In her early death, her friends have sustained an irreparable loss, and a vacancy is made in this place which will not soon be filled. But we mourn, not as those who are destitute of hope. Our religion mitigates our sorrows, and points to brighter worlds: