FLORUS.

See from the bow'r a form majestick moves,
And smoothly gliding fhines along the groves!
Say, comes a goddess from the golden spheres?
A goddess comes, or Rofalind appears !

DAMON.

Shine forth, thou fun! bright ruler of the day;
And where the treads, ye flow'rs! adorn the way?
Rejoice, ye groves! my heart, difmifs thy cares!
My goddess comes! my Rofalind appears!

THE TRIUMPH OF MELANCHOLY.

M

BY DR. BEATTIE.

EM'RY, be ftill! why throng upon the thought

Thefe fcenes, fo deeply ftain'd with Sorrow's dye?

Is there in all thy ftores no chearful draught,

To brighten yet once more in Fancy's eye?

Yes-from afar a landscape seems to rife,

Embellish'd by the lavish hand of Spring; Thin gilded clouds float lightly o'er the skies, And laughing Loves difport on flutt'ring wing.

How blefs'd the youth, in yonder valley laid!
What smiles in ev'ry conscious feature play!
While, to the murmurs of the breezy glade,
His merry pipe attunes the rural lay.

Hail Innocence! whofe bofom, all ferene,
Feels not as yet th' internal tempeft roll:
One'er may Care distract that placid mien!

Ne'er may the shades of Doubt o'erwhelm thy foul!

Vain wifh! for lo, in gay attire conceal'd,
Yonder fhe comes? the heart-inflaming fiend!
(Will no kind pow'r the helpless stripling shield
Swift to her deftin'd prey fee Paffion bend!

O fmile accurs'd, to hide the worst defigns!

Now with blithe eye fhe wooes him to be blefs'd;
While round her arm unfeen a ferpent twines-
And, lo fhe hurls it hiffing at his breast!

And inftant, lo! his dizzy eye-ball fwims

Ghaftly, and redd'ning darts a frantick glare; Pain with ftrong grasp diftorts his writhing limbs, And Fear's cold hand erects his frozen hair.

Is this, O Life, is this thy boasted prime !
And does thy fpring no happier prospect yield!
Why fhould the fun-beam paint thy glitt'ring clime,
When the keen mildew defolates the field!

How Mem❜ry pains! let fome gay theme beguile
The mufing mind, and foothe to foft delight:

Ye images of Woe, no more recoil;

Be Life's past scenes wrapp'd in oblivious night!

Now, when fierce Winter, arm'd with wafteful pow'r,
Heaves the wild deep that thunders from afar &

How sweet to fit in the fequefter'd bow'r,

To hear, and but to hear, the mingling war!

Ambition here difplays no gilded toy,

That tempts on defperate wing the foul to rife; Nor Pleafure's paths to wilds of woe decoy,

Nor Anguish lurks in Grandeur's proud difguife.

Oft

Oft has Contentment chear'd this lone abode. Am.
With the mild languish of her smiling eye;
Here Health in rofy bloom has often glow'd,
While loofe-rob'd Quiet flood enamour'd by..

E'en the ftorm lulls to more profound repofe;
The ftorm thefe humble walls affails in vain :
The fhrub is fhelter'd when the whirlwind blows,
While the oak's mighty ruin ftrews the plain.

Blow on, ye

winds! thine, Winter, be the skies, And toss th' infuriate surge, and vales lay waste : Nature thy temporary rage defies;

To her relief the gentler Seafons hafte.

Thron'd in her emerald car, fee Spring appear!
(As Fancy wills the landscape starts to view :)
Her em'rald car the youthful Zephyrs bear,
Fanning her bofom with their pinions blue.

Around the jocund Hours are flutt'ring seen,
And, lo! her rod the rofe-lip'd Power extends !
And, lo! the lawns are deck'd in living green,
And Beauty's bright-ey'd train from heav'n defcends 1

Hafte, happy days! and make all Nature glad→→
But will all Nature joy at your return?

O can ye chear pale Sickness' gloomy bed,
Or dry the tears that bathe th' untimely urn?

Will ye one tranfient ray of gladness dart,
Where groans the dungeon to the captive's wail?
To eafe tir'd Disappointment's bleeding heart,
Will all your stores of foft'ning balm avail

When stern Oppression, in his harpy fangs,

From Want's weak grasp the last sad morfel bears, Can ye allay the dying parent's pangs,

Whose infant craves relief with fruitless tears?

For, ah! thy reign, Oppreffion, is not pass'd,
Who from the shiv'ring limbs the vestment rends;
Who lays the once rejoicing village waste,
Bursting the ties of lovers and of friends.

But hope not, Mufe, vain-glorious as thou art,
With the weak impulse of thy humble strain ;
Hope not to foften Pride's obdurate heart,

When Erroll's bright example shines in vain.

Then ceafe the theme. Turn, Fancy, turn thine eye,
Thy weeping eye, nor farther urge thy flight;
Thy haunts, alas! no gleams of joy fupply,
Or tranfient gleams that flash in finking night.

Yet fain the mind it's anguish would forego.
Spread then, Hiftorick Mufe, thy pictur'd scroll;
Bid thy great scenes in all their fplendor glow,
And rouze to thought sublime th' exulting foul.

What mingling pomps rush on th' enraptur'd gaze!
Lo, where the gallant navy rides the deep!
Here glitt❜ring towns their fpiry turrets raise,
There bulwarks overhang the fhaggy steep.

Briftling with fpears, and bright with burnish'd shields,
Th' embattled legions ftretch their long array;
Difcord's red torch, as fierce fhe fcours the fields,

With bloody tincture ftains the face of day.

And

And now the hofts in filence wait the fign;

Keen are their looks whom Liberty inspires: Quick as the Goddess darts along the line, Each breast impatient burns with noble fires.

Her form how graceful! in her lofty mien

The fmiles of Love ftern Wisdom's frown controul; Her fearless eye, determin'd tho' ferene,

Speaks the great purpose, and th' unconquer'd foul.

Mark, where Ambition leads the adverse band,
Each feature fierce and haggard, as with pain!
With menace loud he cries, while from his hand
He vainly strives to wipe the crimson stain,

Lo! at his call, impetuous as the storms,

Headlong to deeds of death the hosts are driv'n; Hatred, to madness wrought, each face deforms,

Mounts the black whirlwind, and involves the heav'n!

Now, Virtue, now thy pow'rful fuccour lend,
Shield them for Liberty who dare to die-
Ah, Liberty! will none thy cause befriend?
Are thofe thy fons, thy generous fons, that fly?

Not Virtue's felf, when Heav'n it's aid denies,
Can brace the loosen'd nerves, or warm the heart;
Not Virtue's felf can still the bursts of fighs,

When fefters in the foul Misfortune's dart.

See where, by Terror and Despair dismay'd,

The scatt'ring legions pour along the plain! Ambition's car, in bloody spoils array'd,

Hews it's broad way, as Vengeance guides the rein.