live in his works, and in his exertions in the cause of Greece, when his failings will be forgotten.

[FROM THE GLOBE AND TRAVELLER.] ENGLAND is thus deprived of the man to whom even those who have felt the most violent enmity towards some of his recent writings have not denied the title of the first poet of the age. His death is the more melancholy at a time when he devoted himself to a cause in which, in common with all generous minds, he felt the deepest sympathy-a cause of which it is enough to say, that it would have been worthy of his muse. The character of Lord Byron has already been the subject of very strict and not very friendly investigation; but it will be acknowledged that if he fell into some of those errors which those who have too early an opportunity of gratifying all their wishes can scarcely escape from: and if in his mind there was occasionally something of that bitterness which arises in the very fountain of the Graces, he is now entitled to be remembered for the great qualities in which he has excelled all men of his age and rank-not for the failings which he has shared with so many of them. His brilliant talents, and his careful cultivation of them, his benevolent heart, his aspirations for the happiness and liberty of mankind; and finally, his noble devotedness in the noblest struggle which this age has witnessed, will cause him to be numbered among the great men of whose memory England is proud, and whose premature loss it has been her fate to lament.

[FROM THE EXAMINER.] How strong and how universal is the melancholy sensation produced by the death of a man of genius! Every reader of his immortal writings is, at the least, an acquaintance-often an ardent and sympathizing friend. The favourite passages imprinted on the memory recur at such a moment, and touchingly remind us, that we have lost one who had been a companion in so many interesting hours, and had enriched our minds with so many beautiful and ennobling associations. Throughout Great Britain, North America, and our colonial dominions, will this event produce a sensation not weakened by distance or locality; and in a less degree in France, Germany, and all the more enlightened countries of Europe, to which the poet's genius had been communicated by translations. In Greece, indeed, the shock is probably more felt than even in England. Admiration and gratitude had combined to

make Lord Byron, when present there, the object of a sort of personal affection; and his death is to the Greeks a sudden blighting of political hopes, a dark cloud overshadowing their glorious prospects, the loss of valuable substantive aid, and the more sensible loss of the lustre which his great name shed upon their cause.

Cut off in the prime of life, and in the very summer of his mental power, his death is on that account rendered additionally painful in itself; yet he certainly could not have died under circumstances more favourable to his fame. He had already established a reputation as the great poetical ornament of his age; and he had acquired, in spite of the prejudices of rank and wealth, that honour and esteem from mankind, which are ensured by a strong sensibility to their wrongs, and a vivid indignation against their oppressors. He was pursuing a career of glory, labouring hand and heart in the purest cause of modern times, on the most illustrious soil in the world. His celebrity as a patriot was bidding fair to rival his reputation as a poet a rare conjunction of honours! He had the fortune which he thought Napoleon's reputation so much wanted, when he reproached him with not dying in the field of battle.

MILFORD HAVEN, of which our engrav ing presents a good view, is the finest harbour in Great Britain-perhaps in Europe, and is capable of holding the whole British navy. It is situated in Pembroke shire, in South Wales, and lies on the north-side of the British Channel. It is formed by an advance of the sea into the land, a distance of upwards of ten miles, and has the appearance of an immense lake. It has sixteen deep and safe creeks, five bays, and thirteen roads, all distinguished by their several names. The spring tide rises thirty-six feet, so that ships may, at any time, be laid a-shore; and the harbour is so safe and deep, that there is no danger of going in or out with the tide, or almost against any wind. If a ship comes in without a cable or anchor, she may run a-shore on the ooze, and there lie safe till she is refitted, and in an hour's time she may get out of the harbour into the open sea.

Another and a great convenience of this harbour is, that in an hour's time a ship may be in or out of it, and in the way between the Land's End and Ireland. As it lies near the mouth of the Severn, a ship, in eight or ten hours, may be over VOL. III. 2 A

on the coast of Ireland, or off the Land's End, in the English Channel; and a vessel may get out here, westward, much sooner than from either Plymouth or Falmouth.

The Earl of Richmond, afterwards Henry VII., landed at Milford Haven, when he came to wrest the crown from the head of Richard Ill. It has always been considered a harbour of great importance, and in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, previous to the threatened invasion by the boasted invincible Armada, two forts were begun at its entrance. Of late years, Parliament has been very liberal in voting considerable sums of money for improving this harbour, which naturally possesses such decided advantages over almost every other port.

The town of Milford, situated on the north shore of the Haven, was founded by Act of Parliament, in 1790, in consequence of the importance of Milford Haven to the shipping interests. It is already a place of great resort; and among the inhabitants are a company of quakers from Nantucket, in the United States, who have erected a quay, and formed an establishment for the southern whale fishery

353

THE MERRY MONTH OF MAY. ALL our associations with May are delightful. It is the time of congratulation and hope. We rejoice that the winter has passed away, and we see summer approach towards us with his softest glance and most buoyant step: we forget the festivities of Christmas, and the sultry breath of June, and only recollect that bitter frosts and dark days are the companions of the one, and that the other has bright colours and the richest odours, and sunset lights and evening winds, to make us happy.

The first of May was a day pleasant to gods and men. It shone as welcome on Olympus as on Rome, and in the vallies of Tivoli. We have high intimation that Aurora was a patroness of the day, or, at any rate, that she mingled in the revelry Who, when he hears of

Zephyr with Aurora playing,

When he met her once a Maying, can hesitate to admit into the calendar of his holidays the one which was observed by such bright and airy deities?

Maia (May) is traced by some to the word Majores, and is said to have been adopted by Romulus out of respect to his senators, who were called majores. We prefer the pleasanter derivation, and acknowledge rather its origin in the starry Maia, one of the Pleiades, and mother of the feather-footed Hermes.

The Romans, who generally showed a great share of animal propensity in their amusements, observed May-day with but unseemly rites; they exhibited loose sports and extravagant postures, to stimulate the degraded appetite of Rome, in the same spirit that they administered to their own pampered vanity, by proclaiming all the world barbarians except themselves. These sports were acted in honour, as it was pleasantly called, of the goddess Flora, who (ousting Pomona from her golden seat) was worshipped as the deity of fruits and flowers.

Floribus et fructibus præ-erat.

The ancients esteemed the month of May unfavourable, while the moderns deem it favourable, to love. Shakspeare, who may be considered as the best autho rity on points of this sort, speaks of

Love, whose month is ever May. For ourselves, we are of the modern faction; and while we think that glimpses from the young-eyed god might make bright even the fogs of November, yet when he shakes his wings "with roarie May-dews wet," and comes down upon us like a shape from heaven, not even Sir Piercie Shafton himself that ingeniously tedious euphuist, may contend with him.

This is but a strange comparison, especially as we confess our admi:ation of that romantic personage extends scarcely beyond his slashed doublet and collar of gems, and by no means carries us to the strained to consider Sir Piercie as a faend of his speeches. Yet are we convoured specimen of his kind; for we have seen some of the brightest eyes, that we

We have

know, glisten, though they were previously placid, and very sweet lips smile, at the felt that this was rather hard upon us, passing mention of his name. and our serious endeavours at liveliness; though the Elizabethan knight is certainly a sort of privileged person, and has writ ten authority to rise with "mortal gashes' on his head, and to push men of this plain-spoken age from our stools, with as little ceremony as he used towards the honest family of Glendinning.

But to quit Cupid and Sir Piercie Shafton for our subject, from which we have been beguiled by the latter worthy, let us now say a word or two about our ancestors. They had better notions of May than the Romans, and observed it with as gay but more decorous rites. Although the processions and dances of the morning might degenerate into too free a carousal at night, yet the more objectionable parts of the sports were never, we believe, preconcerted: it is true, indeed, that good cheer was not wanting during the day; but it was not until evening that the bonfires were lighted, and the actual revelry commenced. At Rome, vice formed a striking and essential part of the day's festivity; in England it was either unfrequent or fortuitous; it was nourished with potent dews, and sprung up like an exhalation at the close of the day, when the spirit of gaiety began to languish,

May-day was celebrated as was fitting, by the young. They rose shortly after midnight, and went to some neighbouring wood, attended by songs and music, and breaking green branches from the trees, adorned them with wreaths and crowns of

flowers. They returned home at the rising of the sun, and made their windows and villages they danced during the day around their doors gay with garlands. In the the May-pole, which afterwards remained during the whole year untouched, except by the seasons, a faded emblem and a consecrated offering to the goddess of flowers. At night the villagers lighted up fires, and indulged in revellings, which sometimes were "after the high Roman fashion," and might, indeed, have vied with those religious festivities with which the "true believers" are still accustomed to reward themselves, for their pious abstinence during the fasts of Rhamazan.

ORIGIN OF THE TERMS WHIG AND TORY. (For the Mirror.)

"THIS year (says Hume, History of England, 1680,) is remarkable for being the epoch of the well-known epithets, of Whig and Tory, by which, and sometimes without any material difference, this island has been so long divided. The court-party reproached their antagonists with their affinity to the fanatical conventicles in Scotland, who were known by the name of the Whigs. The countryparty found a resemblance between the courtiers and Popish banditti in Ireland, to whom the appellation of Tory was affixed. And after this manner these foolish terms of reproach came into public and general use; and even at present seem not nearer their end than when they were first invented."

Bailey, in his dictionary, gives the following as the origin :- "Whig (Sax.) whey, butter-milk, or very small beer; also a name first applied to those in Scotland who kept their meetings in the fields, their common food being sour milk;* a nick-name given to those who were against the court-interest in the times of King Charles and James, and to such as were for it in succeeding reigns."

With regard to Tory, he tells us that it was a "word first used by the Protest. ants in Ireland, to signify those Irish common robbers and murderers who stood out-lawed for robbery and murder; now a nick-name to such as call themselves high church-men, or to the partizans of the Chevalier de St. George."

Johnson has "Whig (Sax.) Whey. The name of a faction; and as for Tory, he supposes it to be derived from an Irish word, signifying a savage. One who adheres to the ancient Constitution of the State, and the apostolical hierarchy of the Church of England-opposed to a Whig."

Torbhee is the Irish appellation for a person who seizes by force, and without the intervention of law, what, whether really so or not, he alleges to be his property.

Daniel Defoe, in his "Review of the British Nation, 1709," thus defines Tory: "The word Tory is Irish, and was first made use of in Ireland, in the time of Elizabeth's wars there. It signified a kind of robbers, who, being listed in neither army, preyed in genera! upon their country, without distinction of English or Irish."

* In many parts of Scotland the term Whig is still commonly applied to a sort of sour liquid, which is obtained from milk or cream.

He then tells us a long story, in which he ascribes the invention of the term to Titus Oates. The word Whig, he informs us is Scotch, and was in use among the Cameronians, who frequently took up arms in support of their religion. It is said that the Duke of Monmouth, after his return from the battle cf Bothwell Bridge (so admirably described in the "Tales of My Landlord") found himself ill-treated by King Charles, for having used the insurgent covenanters so mercifully. Lord Lauderdale is reported to have told Charles, with an oath, that the Duke had been so civil to the Whigs because he was a Whig himself in his heart. This made it a court-word, and in a little time all the friends and followers of the Duke began to be called Whigs. F. RY

(For the Mirror.) WALKING in the streets of London, after a heavy rain, adorned with a new pair of inexpressibles just come from your tailor; with your dress-shoes nicely blacked with Warren's best japan; on your way to join an evening party-mistaking (as I once did,) a huge assemblage of mud for a bank of solid earth; stepping into it up to your knees; to your own great annoyance, and the spoliation of your dressshoes, silk stockings, and dandy inexpressibles.

Riding a mettlesome horse at a review, or on a race-course; which said horse takes fright and runs away with you a-laGilpin; thereby exposing you to a shout of derision from all the spectators.

Buying a lottery-ticket, after hesitating a long time in the choice of a number; drawing a blank; and finding that the next number gained the capital prize.

Travelling in a stage-coach on a very hot day, between a cross, fat old gentleman, and a woman with a sick child in her arms; the opposite side being occupied by a couple of ill tempered old

maids, and a large poodle dog. After the first stage, you get out in high dudgeon, resolving to endure this complication of miseries no longer; but find that you have no alternative but to resume your original position, or accept the only vacant seat on the outside; the rest being filled with drunken sailors, and schoolboys going home for the Midsummer holidays.

Going rather late to one of the theatres, and finding the pit full-forced very reluctantly to pay the additional sum of three shillings and six-pence for a seat in the boxes, which are likewise full, or engaged -obliged at last to occupy the very worst seat in the second circle.

Coming out of the country on purpose to sell out stock-arriving at the Bank, and finding that you have come on a redletter-day.

Going with a party of pleasure on the water; while in the act of handing a lady into the boat, your foot slips, and you tumble in up to your neck, dragging the affrighted fair-one after you.

In the interval between the dances at an asembly, while entertaining your partner (who, from your appearance and address, mistakes you for an officer,) with various fictitious incidents relative to the battle of Waterloo, &c.; to be accosted by a brother shopman, who inquires after your friends in Tooley-street, and asks whether huckabacks are cheaper than they

were.

Dreaming that you have suddenly ac quired a large fortune; stretching out your hand to grasp the welcome booty; waking, and finding nothing in your fist but the bed-post.

The last misery, though one to which I hope on the present occasion I shall not be subjected, is sending an article to the MIRROR and having it rejected

C. J. D.

PROVIDENTIAL CARE.

teen days between each time; so that they hatch and creep from their holes into the sea at different times also. When they have laid the complement of eggs, they fill the hole with sand, and leave them to be hatched by the heat of the sun, which is usually performed in about three weeks. It may be proper to add, that the eggs are about the size of tennis-balls_round, white, and covered with a smooth parchment, like skin."

P. T. W.

EMIGRATION OF THE STORK. "The Stork in the Heavens knoweth her appointed times." NATURALISTS have been much puzzled in assigning the winter abode of Storks. Many authors suppose that they go to the Nile in this season, in quest of food; to which purpose, Dr. Shaw observes, that in the middle of April he saw three flights of these birds, each of which took up more than three hours in passing by mile in breadth. These, he says, were him extending itself more than half a then leaving Egypt, where the canals and the ponds, that are annually left by the Nile, were become dry, and directing themselves towards the north-east. They return again a little after the autumnal equinox, when the waters of the Nile returning within the banks, leave the country in a fit state to supply them with nourishment. It is observed, that for the pass from one country into another, they space of about a fortnight before they constantly resort together from all the circumjacent parts in a certain plain, and there forming themselves every day into a dou-wanne (according to the phrase of the people), are said to determine the exact time of their departure, and the places of their future abodes:

"Who bid the Stork, Columbus-like, explore, Heavens not his own, and worlds unknown before?

Who calls the council, states the certain days, Who forms the phalanx, and who points the ways." РОРЕ.

Though they are very silent at other times, on this occasion they make a singular clattering noise with their bills, and all seems bustle and consultation. It is said, that the first north wind is the signal for their departure, when the whole body becomes silent, and move at once, generally in the night; and, taking an extensive spiral course, they are soon lost in the air, when

"Each, with out-stretch'd neck, his rank maintains,

PT. W.