Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, No. 276 | Page 4

caprice, recurred to their own or foreign tongues for the designation of their territory. While at Rome itself, which, though often suffering from the calamities of war, still retained a considerable share of influence, the inhabitants adhered to their native dialect, and the same city which had been the birth-place and cradle of the infant language was permitted to become its sanctuary at last.
Y.M.
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SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.
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ELISE.
(_By L.E.L._)
O Let me love her! she has past Into my inmost heart-- A dweller on the hallowed ground Of its least worldly part; Where feelings and where memories dwell Like hidden music in the shell.
She was so like the forms that float On twilight's hour to me, Making of cloud-born shapes and thoughts A dear reality; As much a thing of light and air As ever poet's visions were.
I left smoke, vanities, and cares, Just far enough behind, To dream of fairies 'neath the moon, Of voices on the wind, And every fantasy of mine Was truth in that sweet face of thine.
Her cheek was very, very pale, Yet it was still more fair; Lost were one half its loveliness, Had the red rose been there: But now that sad and touching grace Made her's seem like an angel's face.
The spring, with all its breath and bloom, Hath not so dear a flower, As the white lily's languid head Drooping beneath the shower; And health hath ever waken'd less Of deep and anxious tenderness.
And O thy destiny was love, Written in those soft eyes; A creature to be met with smiles. And to be watch'd with sighs; A sweet and fragile blossom, made To be within the bosom laid.
And there are some beneath whose touch The coldest hearts expand, As erst the rocks gave forth their tears Beneath the prophet's hand; And colder than that rock must be The heart that melted not for thee.
Thy voice--thy poet lover's song Has not a softer tone; Thy dark eyes--only stars at night Such holy light have known; And thy smile is thy heart's sweet sign, So gentle and so feminine.
I feel, in gazing on thy face, As I had known thee long; Thy looks are like notes that recall Some old remembered song By all that touches and endears, Lady, I must have loved thee years.
_Literary Gazette._
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COLONEL GEORGE HANGER.
Dining on one occasion at Carlton-house, it is said that, after the bottle had for some time circulated, his good-humoured volubility suddenly ceased, and he seemed for a time to be wholly lost in thought. While he "chewed the cud" in this ruminating state, his illustrious host remarked his very unusual quiescency, and interrupted it by inquiring the subject of his meditation. "I have been reflecting, Sir," replied the colonel, "on the lofty independence of my present situation. I have compromised with my creditors, paid my washerwoman, and have three shillings and sixpence left for the pleasures and necessities of life," exhibiting at the same time current coin of the realm, in silver and copper, to that amount, upon the splendid board at which he sat.
Having occasion to express his gratitude to his friend and patron for his nomination to a situation under government (which, had he been prudent, might have sufficed for genteel support), it is said that the royal personage condescended to observe, on the colonel's expatiating on the advantages of his office, that "now he was rich, he would so far impose upon his hospitality as to dine with him;" at the same time insisting on the repast being any thing but extravagant. "I shall give your royal highness a leg of mutton, and nothing more, by G----," warmly replied the gratified colonel, in his plain and homely phrase. The day was nominated, and the colonel had sufficient time to recur to his budget and bring his ways and means into action. Where is the sanguineless being whose hopes have never led him wrong? if such there be, the colonel was not one of those. Long destitute of credit and resources, he looked upon his appointment as the incontestable source of instant wealth, and he hesitated not to determine upon the forestalment of its profits to entertain the "first gentleman in England." But, alas! agents and brokers have flinty hearts. There were doubts (not of his word, for with creditors that he had never kept), but of the accidents of life, either naturally, or by one of those casualties he had depicted in the front of his book. In short, the day approached--nay, actually arrived, and his pockets could boast little more than the once vaunted half-crown and a shilling. Here was a state sufficient to drive one of less strength of mind to despair. As a friend, a subject, a