With thee the youth whofe choice elects a bride,
Grows old in pleasures by her faithful fide.
The fummer's walk, the winter's chearful fire,
The fure fruition of each calm defire,

Bids life glide on, one scene of mild repose,
Till death, without a pang, their eyelids close.
Had we been born to know this blissful state,
Thy lot as humble as thy foul is great;
And I distinguish'd by thy love alone,
Unenvied happiness had been our own.
But now, ah! fad reverfe, to tears a prey,
Hope, even Hope! denies her chearing ray:
For ftill when fleep would yield a short relief,
And worn out nature grant a pause to grief,
Some dreadful vifion ever haunts my foul,
Storms seem to rife, and bursting thunders roll.
The winds unchain'd, o'er troubled oceans sweep,
And tenfold horrors vex the foaming deep.
Yet to rejoin my love, my fteps I guide,
And fearless feek to climb the veffel's fide.
Sudden I'm feiz'd; a ruffian band appears,
Deaf to my cries, regardless of my tears:
Their favage hands my trembling limbs difgrace,
And my once flatter'd features all deface;
E'en from his manfion drive my bofom's lord,
And rend the shrine where Edwy is ador'd!
But tho' prophetick dreams my fate foretel,
Tho' coward fears in this weak heart rebel,
Love still prevails, and bids me urge my flight,
To meet the threaten'd stroke in Edwy's fight."
Ill can that prince his people's rights protect,
Who tamely yields his own with cold neglect.
Then hafte, my king, recal thy injur'd wife,
Or take (I prize it not) my forfeit life:
For death can fure no terrors wear to me,
Who more than life have loft, in lofing thee.

ELEG Y.

OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF A LADY.

BY DR. BEATTIE.

TILL fhall unthinking man substantial deem

ST

The forms that fleet thro' life's deceitful dream!
On clouds, where fancy's beam amufive plays,
Shall heedlefs hope his tow'ring fabrick raise!
Till at death's touch th' ideal glories fly,
And real scenes rush dismal on the eye;
And, from Elyfian flumbers rudely torn,
The startled foul awakes, to think, and mourn.
O ye, whofe hours in jocund train advance,
Whose spirits to the song of gladness dance;
Who flowery scenes in endless view survey,
Glittering in beams of vifionary day!
O! yet while fate delays th' impending woe,
Be rouz'd to thought, anticipate the blow;
Left, like the lightning's glance, the fudden ill
Flash to confound, and penetrate to kill:
Left, thus encompass'd with funereal gloom,
Like me ye bend o'er some untimely tomb,
Pour your wild ravings in Night's frighted ear,
And half pronounce Heaven's facred doom fevere.
Wife! beauteous! good! O every grace combin'd,
That charms the eye, that captivates the mind!
Fair as the flowret opening on the morn,
Whofe leaves bright drops of liquid pearl adorn!
Sweet, as the downy-pinion'd gale, that roves
To gather fragrance in Arabian groves!
Mild, as the strains, that, at the close of day,
Warbling remote, along the vales decay!

Yet,

Yet, why with thefe compar'd? What tints fo fine,
What fweetnefs, mildness, can be match'd with thine?
Why roam abroad? fince ftill, to fancy's eyes,

I fee, I fee thy lovely form arife!

Still let me gaze, and every care beguile,
Gaze on that cheek, where all the graces fmile;
That foul-expreffing eye, benignly bright,
Where meeknefs beams ineffable delight;
That brow, where wisdom fits enthron'd ferene,
Each feature forms, and dignifies the mien;
Still let me liften, while her words impart
The sweet effusions of the blameless heart;
Till all my foul, each tumult charm'd away,
Yields, gently led, to virtue's easy fway.

By thee infpir'd, O Virtue, age is young,
And mufick warbles from the faultering tongue;
Thy ray creative chears the clouded brow,
And decks the faded cheek with rofy glow,
Brightens the joylefs afpect, and fupplies
Pure heavenly luftre to the languid eyes:
Each look, each action, while it awes, invites,
And age with every youthful grace delights.
But when youth's living bloom reflects thy beams,
Refiftless on the view the glory streams,
Th' extatick breast triumphant virtue warms,
And beauty dazzles with angelick charms.
Ah, whither fled !-ye dear illufions, ftay!
Lo, pale and filent lies the lovely clay!
How are the roses on that lip decay'd,

Which health in all the pride of bloom array'd!
Health on her form each sprightly grace bestow'd;
With active life each speaking feature glow'd.
Fair was the flower, and foft the vernal sky;
Elate with hope we deem'd no tempeft nigh;
When, lo! a whirlwind's inftantaneous guft
Left all it's beauties withering in the dust,

All

All cold the hand that footh'd woe's weary head!
All quench'd the eye the pitying tear that shed!
All mute the voice whofe pleasing accents stole,
Infufing balm into the rankled foul?

O death, why arm with cruelty thy power,
And spare the weed, yet lop the lovely flow'r?
Why fly thy fhafts in lawless error driven?
Is virtue, then, no more the care of Heaven!

But peace, bold thought! be still, my bursting heart!
We, not Eliza, felt the fatal dart.

Scap'd the dark dungeon, does the flave complain,
Nor blefs the hand that broke the galling chain?
Say, pines not virtue for the lingering morn,
On this dark wild condemn'd to roam forlorn ?
Where reafon's meteor-rays, with fickly glow,
O'er the dun gloom a dreadful glimmering throw;
Difclofing dubious, to th' affrighted eye,
O'erwhelming mountains tottering from on high,
Black billowy feas in ftorms perpetual tofs'd,
And weary ways in wildering labyrinths loft.
O happy stroke, that bursts the bonds of clay,
Darts thro' the rending gloom the blaze of day,
And winds the foul with boundless flight to foar,
Where dangers threat, and fears alarm no more!

Transporting thought! here let me wipe away
The falling tear, and wake a bolder lay :
But, ah! afresh the swimming eye o'erflows;
Nor check the tear that streams for human woes.
Lo! o'er her duft, in fpeechlefs anguish, bend
The hopeless parent, hufband, brother, friend!
How vain the hope of man! but cease thy ftrain,
Nor forrow's dread folemnity prophane;
Mix'd with yon drooping mourners, o'er her bier,
In filence shed the fympathetick tear.

ODE

L'

ODE ON TRUE GREATNESS.

BY MR. HUDSON.

ET who will climb the towery steep

Of fovereignty, with flippery ftrides,

Where on the bosom of the deep

Below the pitchy pinnace rides :

A death's head flag unfurl'd to view,

Waves ghaftly; and a fable crew

Gaze from the deck, and feem to wait,

Dash'd down the pointed rocks, the rafh unfortunate.

Mine be the low and level way,

Amid the quiet vale to stray,

Safe in fome fylvan lodge to dwell,

And lull'd by the clear ftream that speeds

By fhallow fords to ruftling reeds, .
And small lakes fring'd with homely afpodel.

There fits the calm, the rural fage,

With Nature's volume fair in view;

And meditates the shining page
Replete with wonders ever new:
While Wisdom points, on either hand;
Where plants, and herbs, and flowrets ftand
In emerald groves, and shadowy glades,
In furzy moors, or mufky-fmelling meads.
Truth, in her liquid glass ferene,
To him explains each moral scene:
Oft, in the downward skies, a train
Of tinfel infects he furveys,

Or glow-worm with fallacious blaze,

Juft emblem of court greatness, frail and vain.

Oft