half a dozen visitors,
without incommoding my friend Horace or his jovial crew.

I had arrived at Cowes a low-spirited weakly invalid, more oppressed
in mind than body; but a few trips with my friend Eglantine to sea, on
board the Rover, and some equally pleasant rambles among the delightful
scenery which surrounds the bay of Cowes, had in one week's residence
banished all symptoms of dispepsia and nervous debility, and set the
master of arts once more upon his legs again. Some idea of my condition,
on leaving _alma mater_, may be obtained by the following effusion of
my Muse, who, to do her justice, is not often sentimental, unless when
sickness presses her too close.

THE INVALID.

Light-hearted Mirth and Health farewell,
Twin sisters of my youthful days,
Who through life's early spangled dell
Would oft inspire my humble lays.

Fancy, cameleon of the mind,
The poet's treasure, life, and fame,
Thou too art fled, with wreath to bind
The budding of some happier name.

~149~~

Oppression's sway, or fortune's frown,
My buoyant spirits once could bear;
But now chimeras press me down,
And all around seems fell despair.

With fev'rish dreams and frenzied brain,
When Hecate spreads her veil, I'm crost;
My body sinks a prey to pain,
And all but lingering hope is lost.

With the return of health and spirits, Horace insisted I should write
the "L'Allegro" to this "Il Penseroso" effusion. So, finding the jade
had recovered her wonted buoyancy, I prayed her mount on gayest wing,
and having spread her pinions to the sun, produced the following
impromptu.

THE CONVALESCENT.

Welcome, thou first great gift below,
Hygeian maid, with rosy glow,
Thrice welcome to my call.
Let misers hug their golden store,
I envy none the servile ore;
To me thou art all in all.

Thou spring of life, and herald fair,
Whose charm dispels disease and care,
And yields a summer joy,
All hail! celestial seraph, hail!
Thou art the poet's coat of mail,
His mirth without alloy.

There is a prepossessing something in the life of a sailor which
improves the natural attachment of Englishmen to every thing nautical;
so much so, that I never heard o