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 He however feels very happy, in this opportunity of coupling the remembrance of his name, with the mention of Stonyhurst; a spot, which be loved, and cherished, during life, and to which his last thoughts were turned in death.

Oh! if sometimes thy spotless form descend, To me thy aid; thou guardian genius, lend. When rage misguides me, or when fear alarms, When pain distresses, or when pleasure charms, In silent whisperings purer thoughts impart, And turn from ill a frail and feeble heart Lead through the paths, thy virtue trod before, Till bliss shall join, nor death can part us more.

In the library at Tixall, there is a copy of an edition of Sir Ed. Sherburne's poems, published by himself, and dedicated to the learned Stanley, editor of Eschylus, and author of the "History of Philosophy." It is entitled "Salmacis, Lyrian and Sylvia, Forsaken Lydia, The Rape of Helen, a Commentary thereon; with several other poems, and translations. By Edward Sherburne, Esq. London, printed for Thomas Dring, at the sign of the George, near Clifford's Inn, in Fleet-Street, 1651." His poems have lately been admitted into a collection of the English poets, (vol. vi.) by Mr Chalmers, in 21 volumes, to which is prefixed a short life of the author.

In these lines on "Conscience," the accumulation of images is noble, and impressive; though, perhaps, the "file" and "hammer" are rather degrading. How natural, how lively, how striking is the couplet in italics! It recalls to my memory, a most beautiful passage in "Samson Agonistes."

Retiring from the popular noise, I seek This unfrequented place, to find some ease; Ease to the body some, none to the mind From restless thoughts, that like a deadly swarm Of hornets armed, no sooner found alone, But rush upon me thronging, and present Times past, what once I was, and what am now.