Star.
London, England, 1816-05-30 00:00:00

_. _ ~~ ~,

kitithseOn For teisink et gifts trilotifttertact i
-in our service, an Officat who enters it 'olds xoptiti
sal who condoles •in it until- he has Perforitteli the
last march thit riaturd enabled hins,to support, retires
from it nakewarded oti 'this account by any mark of
distinction I

In conferring distinctions on the Officers and men
who served auWaterloo, nothing; I am certain, was
'farther from the "thoughts of the Panics REGENT,
than to wound the feelings of men whit had long and
glciriOndy served him! but, is it possible to suppose
that men who have served throughout the war, in
every quarter where our armies have been employed—
that ;hose brave fellows Who volunteered to storm
Badajos, Burgos, Ciudad Rodrigo, and St. Sams.
.tian—that men who hid fought in every action under
the Duke of Wittman", from the battle of Vi-
miera to the battle of Tonloose—who had shared all
the dangers and hardships of those campaigns, but
who, not being present at Waterloo—is it, I say, Sir,
possible to suppose, that those men must not expe-
rience the severest mortification and regret in seeing
the service of a single day rewarded with honours
and emoluments which they had not obtained ? -No,
Sir ! such a supposition would betray a total igno-
rance of human nature—an ignorance of the honest
and honourable pride of a Soldier !

Let then the hunt REGENT heal the wound which
he has (unintentionally I am certain) inflicted :—let
him not allow the greater service to remain undis-
tinguished, while the lesser is rewarded :—but
him confer a mark of his royal favour on all who,-
from the length and nature of their services, have
deserved it. If expense is an objection, none need
be incurred—a bit of Ribbon will be as much esteem-
ed as a Collar of Diamonds : it is the honour con-
ferred by the gift, and not its intrinsic worth, that
stamps its value in the mind of a Soldier !

ODE TO THE MEMORY OF. BURNS.

WRITTRN WE THOMAS CAMPBELL, Zig. AND SPOKEN AT
TIM COSINFAIORATION OF ROBERT BURNS, ON SATUR-
EAT, IT ME. CONWAY 01 COVIINT-GARDEN TIigATRE.

Soot of the Pool wheresoe'er
beckno'd from earth thy genies plume
Her wings el immortality ;
Suspend thy harp in happier sphere,
And with thine influence Slums
The gladness of our jubilee!
And fly Eke fiends from secret spell,
Discord and strife, at BuiNi'S name,
lixords'd by his memory ;
For he was chief of Bards that swell
The heart with songs of social Same,
And high delicious revelry !
And Love's own strain to him was giv'n
To warble all its exudes,
With Pythian words unsought, onward,
Love the surviving gat of heavzsi,
The choicest sweet of Paradise
In Life's else bitter cup dialled!
Who that has melted o'er his lay
To MART% Mg in Heav'n above,
But pictued sees in fancy strong,
The landscape and the hvelong day
That saill'd epos their motual
Who that has felt forgets the song
Nor shard one dame alone to fan—
His Country's higk-soid'd peasantry
What patriot-pride he taught !—how much
'l'o weigh the inborn worth of nun !
And rustic Inv and poverty
Grow beautiful beneath his touch.
Him in his clay built cot' the Muse
Eatrassed and shew'd him all the forms,
Of (skylight and wizard gloom,
.(That only gifted Poet views,)
The Genii of the floods and storms,
And martial shades from Glory's tomb !
On Benneek.deld what thoughts arouse
be swain whom 21111.143.5 song inspires
Beat not his Caledonian veins,
As o'er the heroic turf he ploughs,
With all the spirit of his sires,
And all their scorn of death anti chains?
And see the Scottish exile tamed
By many a far and foreign clime,
Bend o'er his bomeborn verse and weep,
In memory of his native land,
With love that scorns the lapse of time
And tits that stretch beyond the deep
E 'd by Indian rivers wild
The, resting en his arms,
In Beeirs's carrel sweet retails
The seems that blest him when a child,
And glowsiand gladdens at the charms
Of Scotia's woods and waterfalls
0 deem not, 'mid this worldly strife,
An idle art the Poet brings,
Let high Philosophy contrind
And sages calm the stream of life : •
'Tin be redoes its fountain springs,
1 hi ,soh sr pissioas of the soul !
It is the Muse that consecrates
The native banner of the brave,
Unitieling at the trumpet's breath,
• Pa% chisels, harp t 'tie she elates
Tie swop the field or ride the wave,
A anieerst In the storm of death!
And thou, young Hero, when thy pall
Is wooed with mournful sword and plume,
When public grief begins to fade,
Aod only tear of kindred fall,
• Who but the Bard shall dress thy tomb,
And greet with fame thy gallant shade
Seek was the Soldier,--Boans &olive •
That sorrows of mine own intrude,
Ingstraine to thy great wintery due.
In verse like thine, Oh! could Sc live
The Wend I mOurn'd—the brave, the good,
&mean that died at Waterloot! •
' Farewell high Chief of Scottish song,
That could's' alternately impart
Wisdom and rapists in shy page,
And brand each vice with satire strong.
Whaelswe are mottoes of the Wart,
Whole troths aim* the sage f•
Farewell; lamest may Envy dare
To wring ems baleful potion bolt
Fawn the crusb'd battle of thy host, •
But, while the lark sings sweet in air,
' • ntay the gratifal Pligrini stop,
To bless the spot that holds thy dust I
'll Evans was born in a clayaeottage, *high his father had
hulk with his own hands..
Major EDWARD Hobos, el she 'fah Homan, who fell at the
bead otitis wradava in the attack of the Ptah Law*.