Drury revives! her rounded pate As magpie, crow, or chough; Dangling beneath, for Whitebread's shears Yes, she exalts her, stately head, You might have deem'd her walls so thick, 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. Sweet child of love! O dost thou see This day of love. The playful wiles, The billing kiss on every tree 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 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; CAMILDHU MARIA. I will not say the maid I love Is fairer than the evening star, When beautiful o'er hill and grove, But, O! her goodness, I will say, I will not call her soul more bright But, Q, her heart as bland I cali The love of such a heart would be 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 1 Cor. ix. 2. Our Zion feels on such a piercing blow; 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, A powerful teacher and a Christian friend; And oh! to us, the apostle of our day! Where shall we meet with such a kindred mind? Still pressing forward with a heart resigned, 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; 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: |