placed on his own palanquin, and, by Gen. Baird's orders, conveyed to the Court of the Palace, where it remained during the night, furnishing a remaikable inftance, to thole who are given to reflection, of the uncertainty of human affairs. He who had left his palace in the morning,, a powerful imperious Sultaun, full of vaft ambitious projects, was brought back a lump of clay, his kingdom overthrown, his capital taken, and his palace occupied by the very man (Major Gen. Baird) who about 15 years before had been, with other victims of his cruelty and tyranny, releafed from near four years of rigid confinement, in irons, fcarce 300 yards from the ipot where the corple of the Sultaun now lay."

Among the papers found in Tippoo's Palace at Seringapatam, is a letter from Bonaparte, after his landing in Egypt. It certainly did not require this proof to afcertain what were the ultimate objects of the Egyptian Expedition; but Bonaparte's letter is conclufive.

"

FRENCH REPUBLIC. One and Indivifible.

Liberty.

Equality.

Bonaparte, Member of the National Inftitute, General in Chief, to the moft magnificent Sultaun, our greatest Friend, Tippoo Saib.

Head-quarters at Cairo, 7th Pluvoife, 7th Year of the Republic One and Indivifible.

You have already been informed of my arrival on the borders of the Red Sea, with a numerous and invincible army, full of the defire of delivering you from the iron yoke of England.

I embrace this opportunity of teftifying to you the defire I have of being informed by you, by the way of Mufcat and Mocha, as to your political fituation.

I would even with you could fend fome intelligent perfon to Suez or Cairo, poffeffing your confidence, with whom I may confer.

May the Almighty increase your power, and deftroy your enemies. (Seal) (Signed)

FOR THE EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.

ACROSTIC.

while the rofy-footed May "Steals blushing on, together let us tread "The morning dews, and gather in their prime

"Fresh blooming flowers."

A

THOMSON'S SPRING.

LL bounteous nature's magic hand Now paints the green with vernal hue;

Now flowers their fragrant leaves expand,

Enrich'd with pearls of morning dew.

But, is the dew that gems the rofe

Unfullied, bright as Anna's eye?
Cap the rich hues the flowers difclose,
Her cheek's vermilion bloom outvie?-
Ah! no-Than Anna's fmile ferene,
No fofter blush can Spring impart,
And dew-drops on the daified green
Not purer are than Anna's heart.
Lochredden-fide, April 19, 1800.

A. F.

Bonaparte.

Say,

TRANGER, that with carcless feet
Wander eft near this green retreat,
Where, thro' gently bending slopes,
Soft the diftant profpect opes;
Where the fern, in fringed pride,
Decks the lonely valley's fide;
Where the linnet chirps his fong,
Flitting as thou tread it along;
Know, where now thy footsteps pafs
O'er the bending tufts of grafs,
Bright gleaming thro' th' encircling wood,
Once a Naiad roll'd her flood:
If her urn unknown to fame,
Pour'd no far extended stream,
Yet along its graffy fide,

Clear and conftant flow'd the tide.
Grateful for the tribute paid,
Lordly Merfey lov'd the maid-
Yonder rocks ftill mark the place
Where he met his ftern embrace.
Stranger curious, would thou learn
Why the mourns her wafted urn?
Soon a fhort and fimple verfe
Shall her hapless fate rehearse.
Ere yon neighbouring fpires arofe
That the upland profpect clofe,
Or ere long the startled fhore
Echo'd loud the cannon's roar,

Once the maid in fummer's heat
Careless left her cool retreat,
And by fultry funs oppreft,
Laid her weary limbs to reft;
Forgetful of her daily toil

To trace each track of humid foil,
From dews and bounteous fhow'rs to bring
The limpid treasures of her spring,
She flept the fultry hours away;
Enfeebled by the scorching ray,
Found her filver urn was dry.
And when the op'd her languid eye,
Heedlefs ftranger, who fo long
Haft liften'd to an idle fong,
Whilt trifles thus thy notice share,
Halt thou no Urn that afks thy care?

Her rifing from Endymion's arms,
In rage, the throws her misty charms
Into the bofom of the night,
To dim their curious prying light.
Then did the dwarfish fairy elves
(Having first attir'd themselves)
Prepare to dress their Oberon king
In highest robes for revelling,
In a cobweb fhire, more thin
Than ever spider fince could spin,
Bleach'd by the whiteness of the fnow
As the ftormy winds did blow
It in the vast and freezing air;
No shirt half fo fine, fo fair.

A rich waistcoat they did bring
Made of the trout-flies' gilded wing.
At that his Elveship 'gan to fret,
Swearing it would make him fweat,
Even with its weight, and needs would

On

On every feam there was a lace
Drawn by the unctuous fnail's flow trace;
To it the pureft filver thread
Compar'd, did look like dull pale lead.
Each button was a sparkling eye
Ta'en from the ipeckled adder's fry,
Which in a gloomy night, and dark,
Twinkled like a fiery spark:
And, for coolness, next his fkin,
'Twas with white poppy lin'd within
His breeches of that fleece were wrought,
Which from Colchos Jajon brought;
Spun into fo fine a yarn,

That mortals might it not difcern;
Wove by #rachne, in her loom,
Juft before the had her doom;
Dy'd crimson with a maiden's blufh,
And lin❜d with Dandelyon push.
A rich mantle he did wear
Made of Tinfel Gaffamere,
Be-ftarred over with a few
Diamond drops of morning dew.

His cap was all of ladies' love,
So paffing light, that it did move,
If any humming gnat or fly
But buzz'd the air in paffing by;
About it was a wreath of pearl,
Dropp'd from the eyes of fome poor girl
Pinch'd, because fhe had forgot
To leave fair water in the pot.
And for feather, he did wear
Old Nifus' fatal purple hair.

The fword they girded on his thigh, Was fmalleft blade of fineft rye.

A pair of bufkins they did bring
Of the cow-lady's coral wing;
Powder'd o'er with spots of jet,
And lin'd with purple violet.

His belt was made of myrtle leaves,
Plaited in fmall curious thraves,
Befet with amber cowflip studs,
And fring'd about with daizy buds,
In which his bugle horn was hung,
Made of the babbling eccho's tongue
Which fet unto his moon-burn'd lip,
He winds, and then his faries skip :
At that, the lazy dawn 'gan found,
And each did trip a fairy round.

At night, repofing on the blasted heath,
In dreams, his fancy points the stroke of
death,

Exults horrific o'er his proftrate foe,
And aims anew the vifionary blow.
Starting he wakes: afar he fees a form,
Half-viewlefs, ftalking through the niifty
ftorm;

Nearer he comes; his frantic eye-balls glare,
And yells inhuman ring along the air
They meet, engage; affrighted Nature flies;
A fearful darknefs dims the low'ring fkies;
Revenge befide them points th' envenom'd
ftings,

And murder shrouds them with his gory wings!

Accurs'd the deed!" the fons of Europe cry,

While the tear starting, trembles in their eye;

Yes!

ye may boaft, from feeling's fource fublime,

That milder mercy gilds your favour'd clime;

With eager joy, you bid oppreffion ceafe, And lull the jarring univerfe to peace! Alas! Humanity would shroud the fight, And wrap Deftruction in his native night? With breafts begirt with fteel, in dread array, The glittring legions flash upon the day;

Brothers

Brothers in Science, at the Trumpet's found, Like dæmons meet, and fcatter death eround.

Unmov'd they ftand, and view the living tide

Pour, with a torrent's force, on every fide. On Andes' cliffs, untutor'd Murder low'rs, But all its keener, deadlier arts are ours. O could fome Spirit, from the fields of day,

To this fair planet wing his vent'rous way, Inhale the frefhotfs of the vernal breeze, And.mark the fun, reflected in the feas, View where, abundant, on a thousand fhores, The waving harvefts yield their golden ftores;

Gay beauty failing in the fweets of morn, The op'ning violet, and the flow ring thorn, Th' expanding fields of every varied hue, And the clear concave of unclouded blue! Then let him ftand, where hoftile ar

mies join,

By the red waters of the rufhing Rhine, Amid thick darkness, hear the trumpets blow,

And the laft fhriek of Nature quiver low, Mark the full tide of Defolation fpread, And count, at eve, the dying and the dead: How would he paufe! How feek, in vain, to find

Some trace in Man, of an immortal mind;
Man, who can glory in a scene like this,
Yet look to brighter worlds, for endless blifs!
O! for a lodge, where Peace might love
to dwell,

In fone fequefter'd, folitary dell!
Some fairy ifle, beyond the Southern wave,
Where War ne'er led his victims to the grave;
Where, mid the tufted groves, when twilight
pale

Peoples with fhadowy forms the dewy dale,
The lone Enthufiaft wrapt in trance fublime,
Mightfoar unfetter'd by the bounds of time,
Might bafk in Fancy's reign, where fcenes

appear

Of blooms perpetual, thro' the vernal year; Where heav'nly odours fcent the zephyr's wing,

And fruits and flow'rs, in wild luxuriance fpring!

Such were the dreams, that footh'd the penfive breaft,

And lull'd the foul to vifionary reft.

Such were the fcenes the poet's fancy drew, While Rupture hail'd the moments, as they flew:

Till mad Ambition bade the battle rage,
And Man with Man eternal warfare wage..
Ah! did our years thro' circling age flow,
Or Fate fecure the heart from private wee;
Did ftrength for ever in the arm refide,
Or the firm frame retain its youthful price;
The eye that faw th`embattled hofts extend,
Might alfo hope to see their difcord end;

arms,

And glory flatters, with deceitful charms, Chills each fine impulfe of the glowing foul,

Aad, prefling onward to the laurel'd goal, Forgets that Feeling ever warm'd his breaft, Or Pity pleaded for the heart oppreft.

All hail, ye joys! to genuine feeling dear,

The heart's warm transport, and the gushing tear!

Welcome the figh, from pity's altar stole,
Ye calm the tumult of the troubled foul.
O! on whatever fhore, by fortune caft,
My fhatter'd bosom finds a home at last;
Whatever ills, in forrow's ample reign,
May wring my heart, with aggravated
pain;

Still, at thofe hours, when, hush'd in deep repofe,

The happy lofe their joys, the fad their