The man doom'd to sail With the blast of the gale, Through billows Atlantic to steer, As he bends o'er the wave, Which may soon be his grave, The green sparkles bright with a tear. "And so of instances in which former poets had failed. Thus, we do not think Lord Byron was made for translating, during his nonage, Adrian's Address to his Soul, when Pope succeeded indifferently in the attempt.

To whom, his eldest born, th' Eternal gave Dominion o'er the heart; and taught to touch Its varied stops in sweetest unison; And strike the string that from a kindred breast Responsive vibrates! from the noisy haunts Of mercantile confusion, where thy voice Is heard not; from the meretricious glare Of crowded theatres, where in thy place Sits Sensibility, with wat'ry eye, Dropping o'er fancied woes her useless tear; Come thou, and weep with me substantial ills; And execrate the wrongs that Afric's sons, Torn from their natal shore, and doom'd to bear The yoke of servitude in foreign climes, Sustain.

"Think not, my love, when secret grief Preys on my saddened heart, Think not I wish a mean relief. Or would from sorrow part. "Dearly I prize the sighs sincere, That my true fondness prove. Nor would I wish to check the tear, That flows from hapless love! "Alas! tho' doom'd to hope in vain The joys that love requite, Yet will I cherish all its pain, With sad, but dear delight.

But thee, my dog, I shall not leave No, thou shalt ever follow me, Shalt share my toils, shaft share my fame For thou art called VICTORY. But no farewell I bid to you, Ye prams and boats, which, o'er the wave, Were doom'd to waft to England's shore Our hero chiefs, our soldiers brave.

Mysterious Rhymer, doom'd by fate's decree, Still to revisit Eildon's fated tree; Where oft the swain, at dawn of Hallow-day, Hears thy fleet barb with wild impatience neigh; Say who is he, with summons long and high.

The fact was this, That in the latter end of September 1717, which was the year before I was born, my mother having carried my father up to town much against the grain, he peremptorily insisted upon the clause; so that I was doom'd, by marriage-articles, to have my nose squeez'd as flat to my face, as if the destinies had actually spun me without one.

But now the gay delightful scene is o'er, And that sweet form must glad our world no more; Relentless death has stop'd the tuneful tongue, And clos'd those eyes, for all, but death, too strong, Blasted that face where ev'ry beauty bloom'd, And to Eternal Rest the graceful Mover doom'd." In writing which Savage almost justified his existence. No. 44.

XXV. For this reason Carneades, as I see our friend Antiochus writes, used to blame Chrysippus for commending these verses of Euripides: Man, doom'd to care, to pain, disease, and strife, Walks his short journey thro' the vale of life: Watchful attends the cradle and the grave, And passing generations longs to save: Last, dies himself: yet wherefore should we mourn?

If I were a night-watchman, "doom'd for a certain term to walk the night," I should insist on English pajamas to keep me awake. If Saint Sebastian, who, I take it, wore sackcloth for the glory of his soul, could have lighted on the pair of pajamas that I bought on Oxford Circus, his halo would have burned the brighter.

"Vain man! why groan ye for the dead? To be with Jesus they have fled, With shattered limbs 'mid scorching flame, They sang the praises of His name; Now, joy unspeakable, they tread the shore Whence ransom'd sinners shall depart no more. But ah! while mangled corpses lie, Our trembling, riven hearts will cry `Why, why were those thus doom'd to die?"