My knees, at length, unable to sustain
The force of hunger and the weight of rain,
Fainting, I fell-then, staggering, rose again-
And wept, and sigh'd, and hop'd, and rav'd again!
Then, nor till then, o'erwhelm'd by sore distress,
To my own hand I look'd for full redress;

All things were apt, no flatt'rer to beguile,
'Twas night-'twas dark-occasion seem'd to smile;
Where'er I turn'd, destruction rose to view,
And, on reflection, rising frenzy grew.
From foolish love, the knife conceal'd I wore,
That, in my rage, Alcanor's bosom tore;

Thought press'd on thought-th' unsettled senses flew,
As from my breast the fatal blade I drew;

Still the stain'd point with crimson spots was dy'd,
And "this is well-'tis blood for blood!" I cry❜d.
Thus did I poise the instrument in air,

Bent to the stroke and laid my bosom bare;
But ah! my crimes that instant rose to view,'
Disarin'd my purpose, my resolves o'erthrew ;
Fear shook my hand-I flung the weapon by,
Unfit to live-I was not fit to die!

Ah! wretched woman, she who strays for bread,
And sells the sacred pleasures of the bed;
Condemn'd to shifts her reason must despise,
The scorn and pity of the good and wise;
Condemn'd each call of passion to obey,
And in despite of nature to be gay;
To force a simper, with a throbbing heart,
And call to aid the feeble helps of art:
Oblig'd to suffer each impure excess,
The slave of fancy and the drudge of dress;
Compell'd to suit her temper to each taste,
Scorn'd if too wanton, hated if too chaste;
Forc'd with the public whimsy to comply,
As veers the gale of modern luxury;
And oft th' afflicted creature must sustain
Strokes more severe, yet tremble to complain:
The felon bawd, a dreadful beast of prey,
Rules o'er her subjects with despotic sway,

Trucks for the human form, with fatal power,
And bargains for her beauties by the hour.
But should some female in her dang'rous train,
Attend the altar of her shame with pain,
Dispute at length the monster's base controul,
And dare t' assert the scruples of her soul;
Should she reluctant yield to the disgrace,
And shew the signs of sorrow in her face,
Th' imperious abbess frowns her into vice,
And hates the sinner that grows over nice.
But hear, yet hear your hapless daughter's plea,-
Some little pity still is due to me.

If to have felt each agony of mind,

To bear the stings which conscience leaves behind;
Ifon each morn to shudder at the light,

Dread the fair day, and fear the coming night;
If, like a thief, of every eye afraid,

Anxious I sought the blush-concealing shade;
my sad bosom, bursting with its weight,
Bled and bewail'd the hardships of my fate;
If to have known no joys, and known all pains,
Can aught avail to purge my former stains,
Judge not your child, your suppliant, too severe,
But veil her frailties and bestow a tear.

Yet has Almeria a juster claim,

To seal her pardon and to close her shame;
Each early trespass nobler to remove,
And hope again the sanction of your love.
These holy mansions*, sacred to our woes,
To screen from scorn, and hide us from our foes:
Gradual the fallen woman to retrieve,
Reform the manners, and the mind relieve,
From barb'rous man to shield his hapless prey,
Expunge the blot, and chace the blush away;
To sooth each sorrow by the power of prayer,
And half supply a parent's pious care;
To hull the Butt'ring pulses to repose,
Each pang to soften, and each wish compose:

* The Magdalen Hospitals.

Wean us from scenes that fatally misguide,
And teach the breast to glow with nobler pride:
These holy mansions have receiv'd your child,
And there she mourns each passion that beguil'd.
Thrice has the sun his annual beams bestow'd,
And found me here determin'd to be good;
Already feels my heart a lighter grief,

And each white minute brings me fresh relief:
Or if, by chance, my sorrows I renew,
Half claim my crimes, and half belong to you;
Here then for ever, secret and resign'd,
Here for its God will I prepare my mind;
Here pass, conceal'd, my penitential days,
And lead a life of piety and praise.

Come then, thou lovely patroness of fame,
Thou bright restorer of a ruin'd name,

Come, fair Repentance! o'er each thought preside, Patient I follow such a heavenly guide;

To all thy laws implicitly I bend,

And call thee Sister! Saviour! Genius! Friend!
Oh! let me breathe the solemn vow sincere,
Oh! let Religion consecrate each tear!
Then should long life be mercifully given,
The soul repair'd, may dare to think of heaven;
Then cleans'd from every dark and Ethiop stain,
Virtue, that dove of peace, shall come again,
With smoothest wings resettle on my breast,
And open prospects of eternal rest.

And yet, before that golden hour arrive,
Oh! would my injur'd relatives forgive;
Oh! could they see this happier turn of fate,
And view their Magdalen's far chaster state-
Then would they fondly close her fading eye,
Bless her last breath, and bid her peaceful die I

Literary Review.

The History of Bath. By the Rev. Richard Warner. Robinsons. Quarto. 21. 2s.

TH

HE author of this performance is already known to the world, by his Pedestrian Tour into Wales, and into the West of England. These, though small pieces, have attracted notice by the animation of their style, and the liveliness of their sentiment. He now appears before the public in the higher department of an historian-and even the Historian of Bath, the most pleasing and fashionable place of resort in the kingdom. In this province he has acquitted himself with ability-great pains seem to have been taken to trace the progress of this city from the earliest times up to its present state of celebrity.

Mr. W. has first of all presented his readers with the British, Roman, Saxon, and Danish, History of Bath then its ecclesiastical history, all in distinct sections. Afterwards he proceeds to a general description of the city, including a survey of its parishes, hospitals, baths, and amusements. The whole closes with an analysis of its waters, together with a sketch of the mineralogy and botany to be found in its environs. Into an Appendix also, is thrown a vast variety of curious informa tion.

Such is the plan into which our author has distributed his matter-a considerable time must have been requisite to collect together such a quantity of miscellaneous articles, and to form them into this animated mass of composition. To the frequenters of Bath, the volume will afford a high degree of amusement, and,

indeed, all lovers of their country will in its perusal feel no small gratification.

The manner after which researches into antiquity is generally conducted, proves dry and uninteresting— but in the hands of Mr. W. no such complaints can be made. He has decorated the unpromising subject with peculiar felicity. Such was the only mode by which he could secure the gay votaries of fashion for his readers; and such indeed is the only sure way of drawing the attention of the great bulk of mankind.

Under the article of Amusements we find several entertaining particulars-particularly a sketch of Beau Nash, which will be found in the preceding part of this number. He was in every respect an extraordinary character-and, whatever were his weaknesses, he presided over Bath with the authority of a sovereign, carrying its affairs to a high pitch of prosperity.

It appears that Charles II. in the autumn of 1663, visited Bath, and from that period is dated the epoch of first drinking the waters-the practice of bathing in them had long before prevailed, even since the time of the Romans, who paid particular attention to this city. Indeed Mr. W. justly rejects the silly account of the British King Bladud and his pigs-for it has been said, that this illustrious group being afflicted with the leprosy, were indebted to these waters for their complete restoration.

The work is dedicated to the Prince of Wales, and its engravings are neatly executed. We congratulate the Rev. Mr. Warner on his having employed so well the leisure time which remains after his attention to the duties of his profession. We, however, hope his intelligent and active mind will, in the course of the ensuing summer, lead him again to resume the peregrinations of the tourist, for which he is so justly distinguished.