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HELYELLIN.

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In the Spring of 1805, a Young Gentleman of talents, and of a most amiable disposition, perish- ed, by losing his way on the mountain Helyeliin. His remains were not discovered until three months afterwards, when they were found guarded hya faithful terrier, his COlIstantatteudant during his frequent, solitary rambles through the wilds of Cumberland and Westmorland. HELYELLIN. I clitnb'd the dark brow of the mighty Helyelliii, Lakes and mountains beneath me gleam'd misty and wide, All was still, save by fits, when the eagle was J yelling, And starting around me the echoes replied. On the left .Striden Hedge, round the Red Tarn was bending. And Catchedicam its right verge was defending, One huge nameless rock in the front was asceud- ing, When I marked the sad spot where the wand. 're rhad (lie, Dark green was that spot, 'mid the brown moan- tain heather, Where the pilgrim of nature lay stretch'd in decay Like the corpse of an outcast abaudon'd to weather, Till the mountain winds wasted the tenantless clay. Nor yet quite deserted, tho' lonely extended, For, faithful iu death, his mute fav'rite attended, The much !oy'd remains of her master defanded, And chas'd the hill fox and the raven away. How long didst thou think that his silence was slumber? When the wind wav'd his garment how oft didst thou start ? How many long days and long weeks didst thou number, Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart ? And oh was it meet that, no requiem read o'er him, 2s o mother to weep, aud no friend to deplore him, And thou, little guardian, alone stretch'd before him, Unhouor'd the pilgrim, from life should depart ? When a prince to the fate of the peasant has yielded, The tapestry waves dark round the dim lighted hali, With 'scutcheons of silver, the coffin is shielded, And passes stand mute, by the canopied pall Thro' the vault at deep midnight the torches are gleaming, In the proudly arched chapel the banners are beaming, Far adowu the long aisle sacred music is stream- ing-, Lamenting a chief of the people should fall. But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature, To lay down thy head like the meek mountain Jamh- When wilder'd, he drops from some cliff huge in stature, » And draws his last sob by the side of his dam. And more sta,eiy thy couch, by this desert lake lyine, "Hiy obsequies sung by the grey plover flying, one fai'hftt! friend but to witness thy dying u. >e aritis of Keljellio aud Catcticdicaiii.

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AGRICULTURAL REPORT.

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A MODERN SONNET:

A AIURdL SIMILE.

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11:1 MISCELLANIES. -