He chauntede out his godlie booke,
He crost the water, blest the brooke,

Then-pater noster done,

The ghastly hag he sprinkled o'er ;
When lo! where stood a hag before,
Now stood a ghastly stone.

Full well 't is known adown the dale:
Tho' passing strange indeed the tale,
And doubtfull may appear,
I'm bold to say, there's never a one,
That has not seen the witch in stone,
With all her household gear.

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But

But tho' this lernede clerke did well;

With grieved heart, alas! I tell,

She left this curse behind :

That Wokey-nymphs forsaken quite,
Tho' sense and beauty both unite,

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Should find no leman kind.

For lo! even, as the fiend did say,

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The sex have found it to this day,

That men are wondrous scant:

Here's beauty, wit, and sense combin'd,
With all that's good and virtuous join'd,

Yet hardly one gallant.

Shall then sich maids unpitied moane?
They might as well, like her, be stone,

As thus forsaken dwell.

Since Glaston now can boast no clerks ;
Come down from Oxenford, ye sparks,

And, oh! revoke the spell.

Yet stay-nor thus despond, ye fair;
Virtue's the gods' peculiar care;

I hear the gracious voice:
Your sex shall soon be blest agen,
We only wait to find sich men,
As best deserve your choice.

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65

70

XV. BRYAN

XV.

BRYAN AND PEREENE,

A WEST-INDIAN BALLAD,

is founded on a real fact, that happened in the island of St. Christophers about the beginning of the present reign. The editor owes the following stanzas to the friendship of Dr. JAMES GRAINGER*, who was an eminent physician in that island when this tragical incident happened, and died there much honoured and lamented in 1767. To this ingenious gentleman the public are indebted for the fine ODE ON SOLITUDE, printed in the ivth vol. of Dodsley's Miscel. p. 229, in which are assembled some of the sublimest images in nature. The reader will pardon the insertion of the first stanza here, for the sake of rectifying the two last lines, which were thus given by the author:

O Solitude, romantic maid,

Whether by nodding towers you tread,
Or haunt the desart's trackless gloom,
Or hover o'er the yawning tomb,
Or climb the Andes' clifted side,
Or by the Nile's coy source abide,
Or starting from your half-year's sleep
From Hecla view the thawing deep,
Or at the purple dawn of day

Tadmor's marble wastes survey, &c.

alluding to the account of Palmyra published by some late ingenious travellers, and the manner in which they were struck at the first sight of those magnificent ruins by break of day t

Author of a poem on the Culture of the SUGAR-CANE, &C. published by Messrs. Wood and Dawkins.

So in pag. 235. it should be, Turn'd her magic ray.

THE north-east wind did briskly blow,

The ship was safely moor'd;

Young Bryan thought the boat's-crew slow,
And so leapt over-board.

Pereene, the pride of Indian dames,
His heart long held in thrall;

And whoso his impatience blames,
I wot, ne'er lov'd at all.

A long long year, one month and day,

He dwelt on English land,

Nor once in thought or deed would stray,

Tho' ladies sought his hand.

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Like tendrils of the vine;

Her cheeks red dewy rose buds deck,

Her eyes like diamonds shine.

VOL. I.

2 A

Soon

Soon as his well-known ship she spied,
She cast her weeds away,

And to the palmy shore she hied,

All in her best array.

In sea-green silk so neatly clad,

She there impatient stood;

The crew with wonder saw the lad

Repell the foaming flood.

Her hands a handkerchief display'd,

Which he at parting gave;
Well pleas'd the token he survey'd,
And manlier beat the wave.

Her fair companions one and all,
Rejoicing crowd the strand;

For now her lover swam in call,

And almost touch'd the land.

Then through the white surf did she haste,

To clasp her lovely swain ;

When, ah! a shark bit through his waste :

His heart's blood dy'd the main !

He shriek'd! his half sprang from the wave,

Streaming with purple gore,

And soon it found a living grave,

And ah! was seen no more.

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Now