Within there sat, all beauteous to behold! 
  Adorn’d with ev’ry grace, a gentle maid. 
  Her limbs were form’d in nature’s choicest mould,
  Her lovely eyes the coldest bosoms sway’d,
  And on her breast ten thousand Cupids play’d. 
  What though her skin were not as lilies fair? 
  What though her face confest a darker shade? 
  Let not a paler European dare
  With glowing Yarico’s her beauty to compare.

  And if thus perfect were her outward form,
  What tongue can tell the graces of her mind,
  Constant in love and in its friendships warm? 
  There blushing modesty with virtue join’d
  There tenderness and innocence combin’d. 
  Nor fraudful wiles, nor dark deceit she knew,
  Nor arts to catch the inexperienc’d hind;
  No swain’s attention from a rival drew,
  For she was simple all, and she was ever true.

  There was not one so lovely or so good,
  Among the num’rous daughters of the plain;
  ’Twas Yarico each Indian shepherd woo’d;
  But Yarico each shepherd woo’d in vain;
  Their arts she view’d not but with cold disdain. 
  For British Inkle’s charms her soul confest,
  His paler charms had caus’d her am’rous pain;
  Nor could her heart admit another guest,
  Or time efface his image in her constant breast,

  Her generous love remain’d not unreturn’d,
  Nor was the youthful swain as marble cold,
  But soon with equal flame his bosom burn’d;
  His passion soon in love’s soft language told,
  Her spirits cheer’d and bad her heart be bold. 
  Each other dearer than the world beside,
  Each other dearer than themselves they hold. 
  Together knit in firmest bonds they bide,
  While days and months with joy replete unnotic’d glide.

  Ev’n now beside her sat the British boy,
  Who ev’ry mark of youth and beauty bore,
  All that allure the soul to love and joy. 
  Ev’n now her eyes ten thousand charms explore,
  Ten thousand charms she never knew before. 
  His blooming cheeks confest a lovely glow,
  His jetty eyes unusual brightness wore,
  His auburn locks adown his Shoulders flow,
  And manly dignity is seated on his brow.”

ARTICLE VIII

THE ALCHYMIST, A COMEDY, ALTERED FROM BEN JONSON, BY RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, ESQ.

There are few characters, that have risen into higher favour with the English nation, than Mr. Sheridan.  He was known and admired, as a man of successful gallantry, both with the fair sex and his own, before he appeared, emphatically speaking, upon the public stage.  Since that time, his performances, of the Duenna, and the School for Scandal, have been distinguished with the public favour beyond any dramatical productions in the language.  His compositions, in gaiety of humour and spriteliness of wit, are without an equal.