THE NYMPH COMPLAINING FOR THE DEATH OF HER FAWN.

By Andrew Marvel.

THE wanton troopers, riding by,
Have shot my fawn, and it will die.
Ungentle men! they cannot thrive
That killed thee. Thou never didst alive
Them any harm: Alas! nor could
Thy death yet do them any good.
I'm sure I never wished them ill,
Nor do I for all this; nor will:
But if my simple prayers may yet
Prevail with heaven, to forget
Thy murder, I will join my tears,
Rather than fail. But, Oh! my fears!
It cannot die so, heaven's King
Keeps register of every thing:
And nothing may we use in vain,
E'en beasts must be with justice slain.

Inconstant Sylvio,-when as yet
I had not found him counterfeit,-
One morning (I remember well)
Tied in this silver chain and bell,
Gave it to me: nay, and I know
What he said then: I'm sure I do.
Said he, "Look how your huntsman here
Hath taught a fawn to hunt his dear."
But Sylvio soon had me beguiled,
This waxed tame, while he grew wild,
And quite regardless of my smart,
Left me his Fawn-but took his heart,

Thenceforth I set myself to play
My solitary time away,

With this: and very well content
Could so my idle life have spent.
For it was full of sport, and light
Of foot and heart; and did invite
Me to its game. It seemed to bless
Itself in me: how could I less
Than love it? Oh! I cannot be
Unkindto a beast that loveth me.
Had it lived long, I do not know
Whether it too might have done so
As Sylvio did: his gifts might be
Perhaps as false, or more, than he :
But I am sure, for aught that I
Could in so little time espy,
Thy love was far, far better than
The love of false and cruel man.

With sweetest milk and sugar first

I it at my own fingers nurs'd;

And as it grew, so every day

It wax'd more white and sweet than they.

It had so sweet a breath! and oft

I blushed to see its foot more soft

And white-shall I say? than my hand,
Nay, any lady's of the land.

It is a wond'rous thing how fleet
'Twas on those little silver feet:
With what a pretty, skipping grace,
It oft would challenge me the race,
And when't had left me far away,
"Twould stay, and run again—and stay ;-
For it was nimbler far than hinds,
And trod as if on the four winds.

I have a garden of my own,
But so with lilies overgrown
And roses-that you would it guess
To be a little wilderness.

And all the spring-time of the year
It loved only to be there.
Among the beds of lilies I

Have sought it oft, where it would lic,
Yet could not, till itself would rise,
Find it, although before mine eyes.
For in the flaxen lilies shade,
It like a bank of lilies laid.
Upon the roses it would feed,
Until its lips e'en seemed to bleed:
And then to me 'twould boldly trip,
And print those roses on my lip.
But all its chief delight was still
On roses thus itself to fill:
And its pure virgin limbs to fold
In whitest sheets of lilies cold.
Had it lived long, it would have been.
Lilies without,-Roses within.

Oh help! Oh help! I see it faint,
And die as calmly as a saint.
See now it weeps. The tears do come
Sad slowly dropping, like a gumme.
So weeps the wounded balsome: so
The holy frankincense doth flow.

The brotherless Heliades

Melt in such amber tears as these.

I in a golden vial will

Keep these two chrystal tears: and fill
It-till it do o'erflow with mine:

Then place it in Dianna's shrine.

Now my sweet fawn is vanished to
Whither the swans and turtles go:
In fair Elysium to endure

With milk-white lambs and ermines pure.

O! do not run too fast; for I

Will but bespeak thy grave, and die.
First, my unhappy statue shall
Be cut in marble; and withall,
Let it be weeping too: but there
Th' engraver, sure his art may spare,
For I so truly thee bemoan

That I shall weep, though I be stone,
Until my tears fast dropping, wear

My breast, themselves engraving there,
Then at my feet shalt thou be laid,
Of purest alabaster made;

For I would have thy image be

White as I can, though not as thee.

THE ECCENTRIC.

NOTHING has been more sought after, by society at large, as a source of general amusement, than eccentricity: and many have been the instances in which both men and women, have assumed it in order to obtain popularity. Many a man, by the assumption of this quality, has risen from obscurity into public notice, and been received into the circles of fashion, and into the company of the great, without any other recommendation. The various Eccentrics to be found in society, are indeed numerous, but they may be reduced into something like the following order :

The Military Eccentric, is usually an old soldier, who has had his "hair-breadth 'scapes i' th' imminent deadly breach," has figured in every engagement of consequence for the last thirty years, and is intimately acquainted with the strength and situation of all the fortresses in Europe. He can descant most learnedly on bastions, covered-ways, and counter-scarps; and can draw up, by memory, the respective armies of the belligerent powers, in any of the battles in which he has been engaged. Nor is his knowledge confined to the dry and formal minutiæ of military tactics; his fund of conversation and anecdote are inexhaustible; and he describes the particulars of a skirmish, the sacking of a town, or the storming of a fortress, with all the spirit of a novelist, and the fidelity of an historian. But it is not only in the narration of the horrors of war that he excels; he is also well versed in the private history of most of the Courts of Europe, and can trace some of the most important political events to the intrigues of courtiers, and the system of espionage. Often does he draw the tear from the sparkling eye of beauty, by a faithful relation of the sufferings and fate of those unfortunate families, who have been deprived of their all, by the uncertain fate of war. In short, an old military officer, of rank and education, is at all times an interesting and agreeable companion; but he is still an Eccentric. His manners partake of the camp rather than the drawing-room; and his conversation is frequently disfigured by imprecatory episodes and expletives, shocking to ears polite. The formality and precision of military dress and carriage, still give a singularity to his appearance, which excites the ready smile, and his protracted descriptions are conveyed in a style of originality, which reminds the hearer rather of Blanchard's Tarragon, or Dowton's Sturgeon, than of the votary of fashion, or the polished man of the world.

The Naval Eccentric is equally amusing, though in a different style. His favourite topic is war; but as his excursions have been more extended, his information is more diversified. To him the intrigues of courts, and the machinery of politics are unknown, though he can dilate on the adventures that have attended him in his numerous visits to foreign climes, with equal accuracy and minuteness; and can astonish his hearers by descriptions of unknown regions, their inhabitants, and productions, which tempt the incredulous to smile at the apparently unblushing impudence of the narrator. His conversation, though amusing, is frequently rendered nearly unintelligible by the introduction of nautical phrases, which long habit has rendered familiar, and even necessary to his descriptions; and in point of imprecation particularly, when warmed by the interest of the subject, he far excels the character just noticed, both in energy and novelty. At the convivial board, the Naval Eccentric appears in all his glory,

and sings his song, cracks his joke, and tells his story, with a spirit and vigour, that appear to set both care and old age at defiance. Both in manners, dress, appearance, and conversation, the old Admiral may be properly denominated an Eccentric; and the cheerfulness of his disposition, the incredibility of his stories, and the rough simplicity, but warm hearted generosity of his character, make him a welcome guest in every company, where the amusement he affords fully compensates for his deficiency in the refinements of fashionable life.

The Theatrical Eccentric, is a person who thinks-whether truly or erroneously-that he has a great taste for dramatic recitation. His dress is fashionable even to a fault; he apes the carriage of the stage, steps in measured time, and assumes all the importance of a tragedian. His conversation is formal, his manners theatrical, and his discourse is broken by frequent quotations from our best dramatists; and though Shakespeare is his greatest favourite, he occasionally regales us with scraps from Rowe and Otway. His education is generally good, and his judgment defective in nothing, but the true pronunciation of his author, whose most sublime sentiments he delivers in so pompous, affected, and impassioned a manner, both of tone and gesture," as to tear a passion to rags, and split the ears of the groundlings." Yet, such is his vanity, his folly, or his ignorance, that he greedily swallows the tittering praise that ridicule bestows, and resumes his seat, perfectly satisfied with the unrivalled excellence of his performance. He is, notwithstanding these glaring and ridiculous improprieties, a character in universal request; he is every where received, welcomed, heard, flattered, and ridiculed; but with him, as "ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise;" and he "struts and frets his hour upon the stage," with all the self-possession of the most finished actor.

The Traveller is an Eccentric of a somewhat singular character, combining with a knowledge of foreign countries, the qualifications of the antiquary, the connoisseur, and naturalist, and even sometimes the linguist. With this store of miscellaneous information, he entertains his hearers with descriptions of the terra incognita, interrupted by long and frequent digressions on antiquity, painting, sculpture, mineralogy, and other collateral branches of science. In the midst of a description of the Venetian Carnival, he digresses to descant on the brazen horses of St. Martin; discusses their claims to authenticity, and relates "their travels' history," till the Carnival and its motley groups are forgotten, and the sacking of cities, and the spoliation of Pagan temples. His travels abound in more wonders than the campaigns of the Major, or the voyages of the Admiral; and he astonishes with adventures and dangers, unknown to all but those who, like himself, have sought to satisfy the insatiable cravings of curiosity, at the risk of life and limb.

The adage, that "Travellers see strange things," is abundantly verified in his adventures, in which the romantic and marvellous are alike employed, to give energy to his descriptions; and many are the encounters with the war of elements," and temporary privations, both in food and lodging, to which he has contentedly, and even cheerfully submitted. In vain scepticism questions, and cool calculation on probability enquires; the grave assertion is reiterated, and politeness acquiesces in conviction. The narrations of the traveller are always amusing, as combining personal identity with his descriptions, which, from the original style, and frequently

comic formality with which they are given, and the digressions by which they are accompanied, can never fail to be welcome in all societies where information and amusement are cultivated.

The Literary Eccentric, with whom I shall conclude, is a being of a superior order. He soars above the common topics of conversation, and lives in a world of his own creation. Refined, and even pedantic, in his language, he appears neither to think or speak like other people. Books are, and long have been, his chief and most favourite companions, and with their merits he seems only acquainted. On them his manners are formed, and on them he constantly holds forth. The names and works of authors innumerable, both ancient and modern, form the theme of his discourse, and with elaborate quotations his conversation is frequently illustrated. From these circumstances, in whimsical combination, he ap pears the creature of another world; and the precision of his language, the negligence of his dress, and the formality of his demeanor, stamp him an Eccentric, while his opinion is courted as the standard of criticism, and his company sought as the universal reference in all subjects of literary discussion.

Society at large, however diversified by character, and adorned by talent, soon becomes monotonous and insipid from a want of variety in the objects of reflection; for mankind, as generally found, have certain traits in which they all agree. The usual topics of conversation exhibit a striking similarity, unless enlivened by some incident possessing a degree of public interest. Conversation, in most companies, when continued for a few hours, becomes exhausted; the common topics are discussed, and few, if any of the company, possess sufficient resources tó revive it. But should an Eccentric of either of the above denominations be present, a copious fund of amusement is secured; curiosity is stimulated to enquiry, and amply gratified, without fatigue either to the speaker, or the hearer: ennui is banished from the happy and delighted circle, and each individual confesses that pleasure, variety, and mirth, ever accompany the welcome visit of

THE ECCENTRIC.

ON WOMAN.

WHEN fortune frowns with low'ring front,
"And ev'ry thought conspires to grieve us;

When dried is friendship's balmy fount,
And those we thought most true, deceive us :--
When all those fairy fancy dreams,

Of buoyant youth to nothing vanish;

And dreary desolation seems

Each ray, each gleam of hope to banish:
Oh! then do woman's sympathy,

And tender cares appear most clearly,

Oh then she shews in every sigh,

How truly she can love, how dearly!

We scarcely wish the pangs remov'd,
Although in twain our hearts are riven;
But feel, by angel woman loved,

That pangs are bliss, that earth is heaven.