on his back and merry bells therein; and there, too, is a great red dragon to betoken the King's Grace, for he is a most loyal gentleman. In midst of all you may note the sword-bearer, riding in a wondrous fair armour; and next after him, well mounted on that stout roan, the Mayor himself in passing rich clothing. There you see, too, his twain henchmen following on great stirring horses; and then come the Sheriff's Watches, of good shew, but not like my lord's. Howbeit you can mark that each hath his giant clothed like a Saxon or a Norman, with his liverymen, lights, and minstrels. Look you now, fellows, then, that is Master John Percivall, one of the Sheriffs, and do but note what a fair pageant he hath in that castor, so thickly set with the King's arms and devices. And there again, is Master Hugh Clopton, the other Sheriff, with a like goodly and loyal pageant of a crown in a hawthorn bush carried by an angel, to denote how the princely Henry was crowned on Bosworth field, what time the foul tyrant and crooked usurper Richard Plantagenet was slain."" 26. 1830. KING GEORGE IV. DIED, ÆTAT. 68. His late Majesty was born August 12th, 1762, became Regent on the 5th of February, 1811, and ascended the throne of these realms on the 29th of January, 1820. The immediate cause of his death was an ossification of the vessels of the heart. His remains were interred in the Royal Chapel at Windsor on the 15th of August. Few reigns will be more memorable in history than that of George IV., who, as Regent and King, wielded the sceptre of England during an eventful period of her fortunes. In public affairs he divides the renown of the measures of his Government with his Ministers; but it must be acknowledged that he performed the duties of his office with judgment and wisdom, especially in the interest with which he took a part in the undertakings of his counsellors. He was fond of ease, yet no one was more jealous of, or sooner aroused at, any encroachment on his prerogative. He does not seem to have possessed a pure taste in the arts. His edifices were furnished with the splendour of an Eastern emperor; but the great principles that regulate the Fine Arts were every where violated. Chinese and Tartar absurdities abounded in his palaces, which were destitute of solidity and correct beauty. His aid, however, was of the greatest use to British manufactures. No monarch before him personally helped them so much, or more encouraged the ingenuity of the artisan. His expenses knew no bounds, and he fortunately directed a great portion of them to a useful channel. The carpeting manufactured for his palaces is unrivalled in the world; and the products of industry stored in them were never equalled in skill of fabric before. In person he was tall and handsome, and his bearing was kingly, but his disposition was marked by strong feelings both of kindness and resentment-his memory was tenacious of the sense of injury—he was deficient in that magnanimity which is swift to forget or forgive the occasion of displeasure, and his friendships were never lasting. He was affable and familiar in his address -fond even of facetious intercourse with those who were honoured with his personal intimacy. But at the same time jealous of his dignity beyond what so exalted a station required; and, to any thoughtless violation of personal respect, even in moments when he appeared to lay aside the formal distinctions of rank, and indulge in social merriment, he was sensitive in the extreme. Yet he had a heart not wanting in claims of charity. We have already alluded to his moral bearing. Happy would it have been for his memory if he had cultivated with as devoted an attachment as his father those domestic qualities-those simple virtues, which, when they grace a throne, are a powerful incentive to the moral improvement of a nation. But young, surrounded by flatterers, and relieved from restraint, his passions got the better of his reason, and a disposition naturally generous was betrayed into acts wisdom rebuked, charity would forget, and all would willingly let die. There has, on the whole, been no reign in this country in which more splendid achievements have been performed, the principles of rational liberty and of public happiness more usefully developed, or the British empire elevated to a higher pinnacle of renown. The fall of the Emperor Napoleon, and the settlement of Ireland, are events that will immortalize the reign of George the Fourth; and if the public liberties have advanced, and public opinion been more respected under his rule than under any preceding British Prince, it is no light tribute of honour to his reign.-New Monthly Magazine. The above is copied from a lithographio sketch, purporting to be taken in Windsor Park the last time his Majesty took an airing there in his favourite pony phaeton. SCENES IN WINDSOR CASTLE. BY H. E. B., AUTHOR OF "THE PENSEE," &c. I saw a castle of beauty and power A standard streamed on the soft blue air. I hear through each portal one chorus ring, A change was darkening o'er the sky I Tired messengers, despatched in speed, Passed and repassed with foaming steed; While anxious eyes and lips compressed, Though mute, th' impending doom confessed; This prayer true hearts were murmuring, 66 Lord, we beseech thee, save our King!" I saw those ancient towers again, They were wrapt as it were with a shroud, And the flag that yields not on earth or main Beneath the light wind bow'd. A conqueror rent the palace gate, And strode in gloomy pride, Till he reached the throne in the hall of state, Then he cast his arms aside. A mournful stillness reigned profound, When a train of followers gathered around But Time so lightly had waved his wing, And a ray was seen to shine O'er the cold, mute lips, and the brow revered A type of bliss divine! Soft fell the dewy veil of night, Now faintly sweet the funeral dirge we hear, Continuous and sad the requiem floats, The trumpet's blast, the roll of muffled drum, Knights, heralds, warriors, peers, advancing slow, Now borne beneath the torches' fitful light, The glittering crown, the sceptre, and the sword, And hark! the cannon's deadly roar "Our sovereign breathes no more!" Is there no mourner in the sable trains Who crowd to view their King's enshrined remains? No gentle praise? no tributary sigh? Yet thousands watch the regal canopy Pass to the holy choir! Could they who shared his lasting love behold Was every touch of inward grief represt, No! there are hearts in yon bright retinue One loyal tear of gratitude, nor fear Respectful sighs may wound the monarch's ear, |