THE CHARMS OF MAY. COME, smiling May, in garlands drest, Red, yellow, blue, and green. Come, summer's fond and blooming child, Come, beauteous May! and shew thy face To all the finny, wat'ry race, That swim both here and there: Come, charmer, come, and bring with thee 'The butterfly and honied bee, The rose, and lily fair. Come, pleasing month, to man and beast, Of breathing fragrance round! In water, air, or ground. WINE. UTOPIA the string that was fastened around the neck of a poor dog, to which hung suspended a huge stone: methinks thou hast not deserved such treatment—No, said I, wiping his lean and shivering limbs, thou hast not deserved such treatment, I am sure. Why art thou used so? Yes, yes, I know the cause of thy treatment—thou art grown old; thy looks bespeak it—thy feeble gait thy toothless mouth-thy almost useless eyes-these, 'tis these that tell me what offence thou hast committed. Thou art grown old in the service of thy master, and now thou hast become infirm and decripit.Thou, (oh! terrible This thought!) art no longer wanted. is the reward of thy toil and trouble!— this is your wages! but not, methinks, your deserts. Because thou hast lost thy teeth, think they thou shouldst not live?-because thy eyes have become dim -because thy limbs refuse to do their former duty because thou art grown old— because thou art helpless and weak, think they thou shouldst no longer live? base thought!-this is their gratitude! this is their kindness! and last, not least, put a cord around thy neck, and lead thee to a watery grave! Couldst thou speak— couldst thou make known to one thy grief -couldst thou tell me of thy base usage, oh! 'twould melt the hardest heart. Callous to every tender feeling must that heart be that cannot pity the Old Dog.But, said I, thou shalt still live; thou shall yet have the comfort the reposethe attention which thou hast so long required, and of which thou hast so cruelly been deprived. Yes, said I, taking him in my arms, and giving him a bit of soft bun I had, thou shalt yet live, and be attended to, and be happy. Reader, remember the poor dog; and when called upon, do thou the same.— TOMB OF ALFRED THE GREAT. (To the Editor of the Mirror.) BEING in company with a gentleman, who resides in the neighbourhood of Driffield, either curiosity, or a better feeling, induced me to make some inquiries respecting the burial place of King Alfred. Never monarch had a more humble grave. He rests within the chancel of Little Driffield, without a stone to tell where he lies. Posthumous honours are not always equally bestowed: some who have made mankind their sport, and who have lived only to tyrannise and oppress, have their mouldering remains surrounded with the more splendid productions of art, and their virtues, forsooth, are recorded on the richest tablets, while Alfred, the truly great, and the good, the benefactor of his country, and one of the best of kings; whose government ever blessed a people, sleeps in his grave, unhonoured with a memorial. The chancel of the little church where he reposes, is very small, and plain even to meanness, and its floor is paved with red brick. The walls are covered with white-wash, and the simple inscription informs the traveller, that "In the chancel of this church lie the remains of Alfred, King of Northumbria, who departed this life in the year, 705." History fixes the death of this great man in the year 901: it is, therefore, evident, that the date above quoted is erroneous, a mistake which has probably occurred in consequence of the frequent renewal of the inscription. The figures, perhaps, have been nearly obliterated, when the operation of white-washing has taken place, a mistake may thus have been unintentionally made, and an error introduced, which every future re-writing would contribute to perpetuate. I have somewhere met with the information, that about thirty years ago, the Society of Antiquaries deputed two of their body, for the purpose of ascertaining as correctly as they could, at so remote a period of time, the fact of Alfred having been buried in the church of Little Driffield. They obtained permission to dig in the chancel, where they found a stone coffin, which contained, as they imagined, the skeleton of that excellent monarch, accompanied with part of his armour, which, in conformity with a very ancient custom, had been buried with him. A historical fragment, known only to some of the meinbers of that Society, is said to have pointed out the place where he lay. Having accomplished the object of their journey to Driffield, they re-closed the coffin, and the grave of Alfred. If any of your correspondents can furnish additional information on this interesting subject, many of your readers, I am persuaded, will thank them for the communication, and they will particularly oblige, Sir, Yours, &c. WITH love my breast so fiercely burn'd, When late I landed on my native shore, That since I find it not return'd, I ne'er will love a woman more. THE VESSEL COMING IN. A SONNET. BORNE on the mighty billows of the tide, From distant lands the sons of ocean come Spreading their amplest sails, they quickly glide See! on the pier,---a mother takes her stand, Long ere he springs on his dear native land. Expects,---and eager eyes the distant sail; The prattlers point, and say, "My father's there!" And all the infant group his coming bail. Dear is the hope,---that on a fairer shore, ORIGIN OF THE STUART WHEN Macbeth, the tyrant of Scotland, had caused Banquo to be murdered, his son Fleance fled into Wales, and was in whose court he was entertained with kindly received by Gryffydh ap Llewellin, he became enamoured of Nert, the daugh the warmest affection. During this time ter of that Prince, and violated the laws connexion with her, the consequence of of honour and hospitality, by an illicit which was, that she was delivered of a son, foul an offence, Griffydh ordered Fleance who was called Walter. In revenge for so to be put to death, and reduced his daughter to the lowest servile situation, for by a stranger. As Walter advanced in having suffered herself to be dishonoured years, he became distinguished for his valour, and an elevated mind. An angry dispute having arisen between him and one of his companions, the circumstances of his birth were mentioned by his antagonist in terms of reproach, which_so irritated the fiery spirit of Walter, that he instantly killed him, and, afraid of abiding the consequences of the murder, he fled into Scotland. Upon his arrival in that kingdom, he insinuated himself of Queen Margaret, the sister of Edgar among the English, who were in the train Atheling. There he soon acquired a general esteem, by his wisdom and good conduct; and his abilities unfolding as they were, employed in the public service, he was appointed Lord Steward of Scotland, and receiver of the revenues of the realm. From this office he, and his descendants, took the surname of Stuart, and from this root have sprung the royal power of that name, and many illustrious families of Scotland. Selected from Warrington's Wales. DEATH AND LOVE. TO EDWARD DYER, ESQ. Of love and life did make an end at once; ground, Began again to love, with sighs and groans. Select Biography. No. VII. GEORGE ASPULL, THE MUSI- "WONDERS never cease," has been re- MUSICAL PRODIGY. THERE has been, in the more select musical circles, where the leading professions associate in the character of friends, rather than that of artists, unob The boy's ance and behaviour do not differ from those of other children of the same agethe most rapid and involved passages do not produce a change of countenance, nor any sign of effort little study is requisite even for the most elaborate pieces: he has had the honour of performing before his majesty, the Princess Augusta, and a select party at Windsor: he played nearly three hours. The King, who the greater part of the time sat by his side, frequently interrupted his performance with cries of bravo! and encouragingly patting the young performer on the back. The impression made on his majesty and the whole company, was that of unqualified admiration. In conclusion, we have only to say, that this extraordinary boy, bears about him prognostics of future eminence, which could not have been greater, or more conclusive, in the person of Mozart himself. His foreman was a lusty Black, An honest fellow; But one who had an ugly knack Having to cross the vat aforesaid, Like Clarence in his butt of Malmsey In all directions round about The negro absentee was sought, But as no human noddle thought That our fat Black was now Brown Stout, They settled that the rogue had left The place for debt, or crime, or theft. Meanwhile the beer was day by day Drawn into casks and sent away, Until the lees flow'd thick and thicker, I always knew the fellow drank hard Next morn a publican, whose tap, Came to demand a fresh supply, And boil him down at every brewing? SHIPWRECK OF THE BARRETT. On the 19th of December, 1820, the ship Barrett, 350 tons, Captain Fazagar, sailed from St. John's, New Brunswick, (timber loaded,) for Liverpool. Proceeding on her voyage, on Tuesday, the 2nd of January, in lat. 43. N., long. 34. W., at eight P. M. it came on to blow a dreadful gale from westward. At two o'clock on Wednesday morning it blew a complete hurricane, with rain and vivid flashes of lightning: the ship, through the violence of the wind, and driven from her course by the sea, "broached to," and lay on her beam ends. They cut away the topsail sheets, but every exertion to bring her to or before the wind proved ineffectual, and she continued in the trough of the sea, the water pouring down the companion; every moment they expected she would upset. The pumps were continually at work, without effect, the water still gaining on them by the cabin. In this state they continued till day-light, when to get her before the wind the mizen and main-masts were cut away. By this time the water reached the after peak, so they gave up pumping as altogether useless. Relieving tackles were put to the tiller, four men to each tackle, and two to the wheel, to steer her as much as possible before the wind. The sea now burst over the vessel with great force, and carried away all the rails of he poop but a few to which ropes were lashed; and to those they clung to save themselves from being washed overboard: even the taffrail was wrenched up and washed away. In this condition they continued until the cabin being half full of water, and the sea making a clear passage over the deck, they were obliged to go on the poop, the only part not continually under water. About mid-day the captain procured from an upper locker in the cabin, a small bag of bread, a jar of rum, a jar of gin, and half a firkin of butter; but these, except the gin, were washed overboard. The gale blew with increased violence, and the sea running mountains high, made a clear passage over the main-deck, broke through the stern and through the bends. The deck timber consisting of large logs, was washed away; the ring bolts being torn from the decks, and the stancheons broken down. The vessel would have gone to pieces had she not been kept as easy as possible by steering before the wind. All Wednesday they had nothing whatever to eat, and in continual apprehension of being washed away. The following day the gale began to abate, so that though drenched every moment by the sea, they had some shelter from the cold under the poop, where they piled up cables, wet sails and staves, to keep them selves out of the water, and on which they laid down. The front of the poop was entirely beaten out by the sea. They thought a fire would revive them, but had no means of striking a light, or procuring combustible substance amidst the torrents that surrounded them. Most of the crew, so unexpected was the disaster, had neither hats nor stockings, and their clothes were constantly soaked with salt water. "There was nothing left on board," says the mate," that could be of any relief to us: neither meat, drink, nor clothing; except a barrel of pork and a tierce of beef, so salt, that though some tasted a mouthful, others prudently desisted." The ship being water-logged was very unmanageable: during this day they steered by compass, at night by the stars as well as they could guess, to the east. When the sea became high from a continuance of gales, they were driven to the poop, where they held on by the ropes. This day they had nothing to eat. In this dreadful condition they remained some days. Part of a cask of water was got at, but at first two-thirds salt, and latterly no fresher than the wave that washed over them. It was however drank, except by two or three, and eagerly resorted to by those in particular who afterwards died, who asked for it as fast as it could be handed them. Friday night a boy and a man died. Wednesday following, after a week of privation, another man died: on Thursday a fourth. The captain had a dog on board, a favourite he was unwilling to kill until the last extremity. After nine days without nourishment or water, save a few drops caught on the poop when it rained, and which, owing to the spray, were little fresher than the sea; it was on Thursday represented to the captain they must all perish unless the dog were killed for subsistence. To this he at length agreed, and the animal being bled to death, he directed the mate (Mr. M'Cloud) to serve every part out fairly and economically 1 which he did, dividing the blood with a table spoon, three spoonfuls to each man; the liver, heart, and kidneys were divided into fifteen shares each, and distri buted for that day's subsistence. At this time, the captain, who throughout suppressed the expression of his sufferings lest he should intimidate the men, became deranged; rushed upon deck; bid God bless his wife and children; spoke of a mutiny in the ship, and used other incoherent language. He was prevailed on to go to his cot, where, after twentyfour hours of insanity and suffering, he expired. The survivors now became so weak that only the mate, a robust young inan, and three others could stand; these steered the vessel as well as they could to the east, westerly gales still prevailing. As they conjectured they sailed, since waterlogged, 600 miles, they were in hopes of seeing Ireland, or they would have given up every exertion for preservation; but on the afternoon of Friday (the eleventh day) it became more calm, and the wind suddenly changing to the eastward blighted all their hopes. They had not seen a vessel during the whole passage, and a glimpse of hope rushing on them, that one might fall in their way, they hauled up the foresail, made fast the tiller, and committed themselves the whole night to the guidance of providence. By this time three quarters of the dog were consumed. At day break next morning, they saw, with inexpressible delight, a vessel to leeward. The mate and the few who could drag their emaciated limbs, managed to set the foresail, and with some pieces of canvass, made a sort of signal from the topmast rigging. As soon as the people of the vessel spied them, they laid their sails aback and hoisted out their boat, which was soon alongside. The sea was so rough, the boat had to make several trips to rescue the survivors. The wreck was abandoned in lat. 45. N., long. 28. W., a great distance from any land. It was providential the wind changed to eastward, which threw this vessel in their way, or she would have passed them in the night. She proved to be the Ann, of New York, Captain Crocker, bound to Liverpool. "Every thing," says the mate of the Barrett, "was done for us which medicine, meat, drink, and hospitality could supply, and my own father could not have treated me with greater kindness than Captain Crocker." Ann arrived on the Friday, a week after taking the sufferers from the wreck, who, during this time, except one or two, were unable to rise from their hammocks. The |