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Bright as beauty's eye,

When no sorrow veils it; Sweet as beauty's sigh,

When young love inhales it ;

Come, then, to my lip

Come, thou rich in blisses

Every drop I sip

Seems a shower of kisses.

Whiskey, &c.

Could my feeble lays

Half thy virtues number,

A whole grove of bays

Should my brows encumber :

Be his name adored,

Who summed up thy merits

In one little word,

When he called thee spirits.

Whiskey, &c.

Send it gaily round

Life would be no pleasure,

If we had not found

This enchanting treasure :—

And, when tyrant death's

Arrow shall trnsfix ye,

Let your latest breaths

Be, whiskey! whiskey! whiskey!

Whiskey! drink divine !

Why shonld driv'lers bore us With the praise of wine,

Whilst we've thee before us?

WHERE ART THOU?

To Miss M

Where art thou ?-Where art thou ?-I've come o'er the sea To gaze once again my dear Mary on thee;

Each wild wave that speeded our onward career,

Was joy to my eye, and was song to my ear;

For it told me, once more thy fair form I should see;

Then Mary, where art thou, where art thou from me?

Where art thou? where art thou? bright eyes I have met, And love lit their glances of azure or jet;

And joy, like the light of a dimly-seen star,

Came down on my spirit-but misty and far ;-
For I read in their looks but the mem'ry of thee,

Then Mary, where art thou, where art thou from me?

Where art thou? where art thou ?-Rich lips I have seen,
And breath'd the sweet perfume exhaling between,
And hung on the spells they have uttered the while,
And felt all my spirit dissolve in their smile :-
Tho' 1 knelt at their shrine I was worshipping thee,-
Then Mary, where art thou, where art thou from me?

Where art thou? where art thou? the summer is gone,
And autumn's soft twilights and shadows come on;
Love's music is now on the breeze-in the stream:
And 'tis sweet as the spell of a passionate dream :
All, all is enchantment-breeze, streamlet and tree-
Then Mary, where art, where art thou from me?

Where art thou? where art thou? Nay linger not now
To cheer my dark soul with the light of thy brow;
The shadows of earth o'er my spirit have roll'd,—
Young hope's early blossoms lie withered and cold,
Every hope, every wish is now centered in thee—
Then Mary, where art thou, where art thou from me?

"AS SHAKSPEARE SAYS."

Many apophthegms, opinions, reflections, &c. are pawned upon the immortal bard, by the use of this phrase, which he himself, if questioned on, would blush to acknowledge. Indeed his book has been almost as much abused as the sacred volume of Revelation, and pressed to the support of nearly as great a variety of opinions. There is no villainy which you may not prop up by quotations from Shakspeare not that he himself would countenance the wickedness; but, having to paint mankind as he found them, and being compelled, for the support of his plot, to introduce scoundrels into his dramatis persona-though by no means in the proportion of what may be found in real life-he was obliged to suffer them to gloss over their conduct by such sophistries as their own ingenuity suggested. This phrase of "as Shakspeare says," if allowed to the extent to which it is used, or rather to which it is abused, would make him, who from the little we know of his life, and from the much we know of his writings, must have realized the eulogium passed upon his own Brutus-this phrase, thus abused, would give him the brutality of Caliban, the lewdness of Falstaff, the tyranny of Richard, the ambition of Cæsar, the pride of Coriolanus, the misanthropy

of Timon. It would identify him with all the worst and best of the various characters he has so exquisitely drawn, and make him

"Not one-but all mankind's epitome."

Ever, when you hear "as Shakspeare says," be sure to ask from what play the quotation comes, what character utters it, and then you can calculate how far it ought to go in influencing your opinions? There are few writers, if indeed there be any, who have kept their own individual opinions and peculiarities of thought and disposition, so much apart from their works as has Shakspeare. Every thing noble in expression, exalted in sentiment, dignified in style, and just in thought is undoubtedly hisfor, passing through his capacious mind, each of those took the hue of his own glorious character: but into whose mouths does he put these sentiments? They will be found expressed either by the most admirable personages in his dramas, or else uttered for the purpose of winning their approbation; and, when coming from lips unworthy of the sentiment, they are only illustrative of the profound observation which calls hypocrisy "the homage paid by vice to virtue."

By no persons more than by the Tories have extracts from Shakspeare been thus abused in support and confirmation of their own illiberal purposes. There is no act of tyranny, no abuse of authority, no outrage of the law, no inroad upon popular right, no violation of public opinion, no calumny upon

popular feeling, which these hireling scribes are not ready to prop up with Shaksperian authority.

Coriolanus is the regular Tory armoury, from which the enemies of popular rights and popular virtues select their weapons of ridicule, sarcasm, and reproach; but in looking into the volume, we find that it is by Coriolanus himself—the haughty insolent, overbearing Coriolanus-or some of his immediate partizans the terms of abuse are furnished. Tis he who calls the people

"Dissentious rogues,

"That, rubbing the poor itch of their opinion,
"Make themselves scabs ;"

and this ruffian "ride-'em-down" of a Roman oli. garchy-like some of our own day, who possess all his virulence but without his valour-this bully of a domineering amd oppressive party, who, if the nobility would but

"Let him use his sword, would make a quarry

With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, (the people) as high

"As he could pick his lance"

is, in 1833, quoted as authority for the rulers of a free people. The ravings of an insane aristocrat, blindly and bigotedly wedded to the prejudices of his party, are foisted upon the Bard of Avon as the matured convictions of his mighty mind.

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