men, are fubject to the laws of honour.-Alfred every moment awaked Ethelbert, to speak again of the beauteous maid. first fuffer a hundred deaths-my whole family fhould perifh with me.* The eyes of a vigilant father were not deceived: Alfred indeed loved, moft paffionately loved one of his Early in the morning á fervant atdaughters. It may be fuppofed that tends at the King's apartment, and Ethelwitha was the enchanting ob- requests to know whether he could ject, that had infpired the Prince be feen. Who would enter at this with the most violent paffion hour? anfwered the Monarch, with • Ethelbert, my friend, it is not a fome peevishness, I, my Lord,' mortal-it is an angel of beauty, in- exclaimed a voice, that Alfred foon nocence, and modefty, that we have recollected, and he was inftantly feen! Did not you obferve her? ftruck with the appearance of Alba. What joy, what intoxicating tran- nac, holding a drawn fword in one fports, must be his who can obtain hand, and with the other leading his the first figh from this young and in- three daughters, who were in deep genuous heart l'— mourning, and in the attitude of the moft poignant grief. Yes, my Lord, I faw, I was fmitten with fuch a blaze of charms! Never before had Nature formed fuch a paragon of perfection! How feductive her voice! How! • Speak, my dear Ethelbert, fpeak all the flames of love-I am confumed by them-whatever it coft me, I muft, I must be happy-Could he but love me.' Can you doubt, my Lord, whether she will meet your tendernefs? King as well as lover, a hero crowned with laurels, of an age formed to infpire a mutual ardour, in a thoufand refpects you may be certain of fuccefs. In the language of Ethelbert we perceive the artful complaifance of a Courtier, who, inftead of flattering the errors of his Mafter, ought rather to have made him fenfible of his culpable weakness, and to have reprefented to him, that he would violate the laws of hofpitality, if he fubmitted to the fuggeftions of an unbecoming paffion, and that Kings, like other What do I fee!' exclaimed the King. A father, whofe honour is dearer to him than life itfelf. My motive for this intrufion I can foon explain. You are a King, and I am your fubject, but not your flave. You must be fenfible from what an illustrious houfe I am defcended; and it now becomes me to speak my sentiments. I may poffibly be deceived; but I thought, last night, that I faw a particular attention to my daughters. If you have conceived the idea of difhonouring my family, this fword fhall inftantly prevent my fhame-I will plunge it into the bosom of these unfortunate, but willing victims. But if a pure and honourable flame be kindled in your breaft; if an alliance with my houfe be not deemed unworthy of royalty-choofe-name her whom you would wish to honour.' Alfred was for a moment filent; but foon addreffing himself to Albanac, with that magnanimity that dif played kind * To justify the apprehenfions of Albanac, it must be observed, that in those times, even the most devout Monarchs seldom made any fcruple to have concubines, exclufive of their wife. It is true that they were regarded as a of fecond wives; but they did not enjoy the confideration, rights, or honours of the wife, who, being the only one effeemed legitimate, was the only one thas bore the name and title of her husband. played his exalted foul: Noble Albanac, you recal Alfred to himfelf I might have gone aftray; but you teach me my duty, and I will obey its dictates. My choice is fixed. Beautiful Ethelwitha,* here is my hand-can you accept it? With pleafure I place my crown upon your head-I feat Virtue and Beauty upon my throne.' Ethelwitha throws herself at the King's feet: he raises, he embraces her with tranfport; he embraces Albanac. Your virtuous courage well deferves a recompence-I glory in having the most respectable man in my dominions for my father-in-law." Ethelwitha is publicly proclaimed Queen; nor did fhe wait till the nuptial ceremony was over, to confefs, with a charming frankness, to the enraptured Monarch, that she had given her heart to him the very moment he had entered her father's house. What a delightful confeffion was this for fuch a paffionate lover! It was far from tending to diminish their mutual felicity; for the happy Pair long participated in the glory of one of the nobleft reigns of which England can be proud.+ [Univ. Mag. *This is that Ethelwitha who accompanied Alfred to his retreat in the ifle of Athelney, when he had taken refuge there, till he could again make war against the Danes. To fuch extremities were the good King and his family reduced, that one day they were on the point of feeling all the horrors of famine. There was nothing in the tent but a fingle loaf for the royal family and their attendants. A poor pilgrim appeared; he was expiring, he said, with hunger: Alfred inflantly gave him half of the loaf. The Queen objecting to this act of charity, in their own deplorable circumftances: My dear friend,' faid Alfred, of what are you apprehenfive? He who made five loaves and five fifbes fufficient for the wants of five thousand fouls, can certainly render this half of a loaf fufficient for ours. A fine painting of this affecting proof of the fenfibility and humanity of Alfred, is now in the Hall of the Worshipful Company of Stationers. Alfred had by his wife Ethelwitha, the daughter of a Mercian Earl, three fons and three daughters. The eldest fon, Edmund, died without iffue in his father's life-time. The third, Ethelward, inherited his father's passion for letters, and lived a private life. The fecond, Edward, fucceeded in bis power; and paffes by the appellation of Edward the Elder, being the first of that name who fat on the English Throne.' HUME. AT For the NEW-YORK MAGAZINE. T the battle of Danbury, a New-England foldier feated himfelf upon a fence, within gunhot of the British, and from thence fired thirty-two charges at them, without being touched by a fingle one of the many bullets aimed at him. When he found his ammunition fpent, he difmounted in hafte, and holding up his open cartouch-box to "He that fights and runs away, The ORIGINAL POETRY. WH TO THE MOON. HILE wand'ring through the dark blue vault of heav'n, And from among the ftarry hoft of ev❜n, Thou shed'ft o'er flumbering earth a milder day; GREAT was the hand that form'd thy round, O Moon! And rule old Ocean's folemn fwell: GREAT was the POWER, that fill'd with radiant light From Realms of Love, beyond where moves the Sun, On the ftrong whirlwind's ragged pinnions borne, His voice was heard-in dire dismay While bursting waves of Light the flight beheld, But that he spake it into light, The mountains rear'd their verdant head, "Go "Go gild the morn," his maker faid, O'er half the globe his rays he fpread, Then waft thou form'd with all the starry train Some made to travel through the faphire plain, Long haft thou reign'd, and from thine amber throne, Shine their fhort hour, and then their life refign; New generations feize the fickle prize, And like their fires, but ftrengthen to decline: Yet be not vain, (though fince thy natal day, Some thousand years their circling courfe have made) When all thy glory fhall for ever fade. The change of feasons shall be o'er, And thou, O Moon, fhalt fet to rife no more! Sacred to the Memory of PHYLURA. ADIEU, each brighter, happier day, No intervening cloud that knew, To fee them bud, then die away. With all that's good and lovely's dead. The flow'r, the pride of blooming fpring, But faintly op'd her native grace; In her both youth and age were join'd, ELLA, And now, impatient of the sky, One irkfome, dreary night I find, To yonder tomb I penfive stray, So justly due to thee, dear fhade; My grief for thee shall be fincere, Till I'm like thee in filence laid. New-York, 1792. ARIBERT. The WHE The PLEASURES of FANCY. HERE'ER capricious Fancy Finds forrow but an empty dream; Till wak'd by keener calls-from CALISTA. New-York, April 12, 1792. SELECTED POETRY. ODE to the NIGHTINGALE, by Mrs. ROBINSON.-If this is not ANNA "From her alone fuch dulcet notes can flow- WEET Bird of Sorrow!-why SWE In fuch foft melo ly of Song, beam? Sweet Songftrefs, if thy w ayward fate E. Hangs its dark brow, whose awful Spreads a deep gloom along the glade: Forlorn my poignant pangs I bore, I Where Envy's voice could taunt no more. hop'd, by mingling with the gay, The |