Of all that slumber in the grove,
Or playful urge the goss'mer's flight, Or down the vale or streamlet move, With whisper soft and pinion light.
I court thee, through the glimm'ring air,
When Morning springs from slumbers still,
And waving bright his golden hair,
Stands tiptoe on yon eastern hill.
I court thee, when, at noon reclin'd,
I watch the murm'ring insect throng
In many an airy spiral wind,
Or silent climb the leaf along.
I court thee, when the flow'rets close,
And drink no more receding light,
And when calm eve to soft repose
Sinks on the bosom of the night;
And when beneath the moon's pale beam,
Alone 'mid shadowy rocks I roam,
And waking visions round me gleam,
Of beings and of worlds to come.
Smooth glides with thee my pensive hour,
That warm'st to life my languid mind;
Thou cheer'st a frame with genial power,
That droops in every ruder wind.
Breathe, Cherub; breathe! once soft and warm,~~ Like thine the gale of fortune blew ;
How has the desolating storm
Swept all I gaz'd on from my view!
Unseen, unknown, I wait my doom,
The haunts of men indignant flee,
Hold to my heart a listless gloom,
And joy but in the Muse and thee.
JAMES MERCER, ESQ.
SEQUESTER'D Fountain! ever pure!
Whose placid streamlet flows,
In silent lapse, through glens obscure,
Where timid flocks repose;
Tir'd and disabled in the race,
I quit ambition's fruitless chase,
To shape my course by thine;
And, pleas'd, from serious trifles turn,
As thus, around thy little urn,
A votive wreath I twine.
Fair Fountain! on thy margin green
May tufted trees arise,
And spreading boughs thy bosom screen
From Summer's fervent skies ;-
Here may the Spring her flow'rets strew,
And Morning shed her pearly dew;
May Health infuse her balm ;
And some soft virtue in thee flow,
To mitigate the pangs of woe,
And bid the heart be calm.
O! may thy salutary streams,
Like those of Lethe's spring,
That bathe the silent land of dreams,
Some drops oblivious bring:
With that blest opiate in my bowl,
Far shall I from my wounded soul
The thorns of spleen remove ;-
Forget how there at first they grew,
And, once again, with man renew
The cordial ties of love.
For what avails the wretch to bear,
Imprinted on his mind,
The lessons of distrust and fear,
Injurious to mankind ?——
Hopeless in his disastrous hour
He sees the gath'ring tempest low'r,
The bursting cloud impend ;
Tow'rds the wild waste he turns his eye, Nor can that happy port descry,
The bosom of a friend.
How chang'd since that propitious time, When, woo'd by Fortune's gale, Fearless in youth's advent'rous prime, He crowded every sail !—
The swelling tide, the sportive breeze, Lightly along the halcyon seas
His bounding pinnace bore;In search of happiness, the while, He steer'd by ev'ry fragrant isle, And touch'd at ev'ry shore.
Ah me! to Youth's ingenuous eye
What charms the prospect wears!-
Bright as the portals of the sky
The op'ning world appears:
There ev'ry figure stands confest,
In all the sweet advantage drest
Of Candour's radiant robe;-
There no mean cares admission find:
Love is the bus'ness of mankind,
And honour rules the globe.
But if those gleams fallacious prove
That paint the world so fair;
If Heav'n has plac'd for gen'rous love
No soft asylum there;
If men fair faith, fair fame deride,
Bent on the crooked paths that guide
To Int'rest's sordid shrine;
Be yours, ye gloomy sons of Woe!
That melancholy truth to know;
That dream of bliss be mine!
SUBLIME DESCRIPTION FROM HOMER, OF THE GODS ENGAGING IN THE BATTLE.
THE great Achilles, terror of the plain,
Long lost to battle, shone in arms again.
Dreadful he stood in front of all his host:
Pale Troy beheld, and seem'd already lost;
Her bravest heroes pant with inward fear,
And trembling see another God of War.
But when the Pow'rs descending swell'd the fight,
Then Tumult rose; fierce Rage, and pale Affright
Varied each face; then Discord sounds alarms,
Earth echoes, and the nations rush to arms.
Now through the trembling shores Minerva calls,
And now she thunders from the Grecian walls.
Mars, hov'ring o'er his Troy, his terror shrouds
In gloomy tempests, and a night of clouds:
Now through each Trojan heart he fury pours,
With voice divine, from Ilion's topmost tow'rs;
Now shouts to Simois, from her beauteous hill;
The mountain shook, the rapid stream stood still.
Above, the Sire of Gods his thunder rolls,
And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles.
Beneath, stern Neptune shakes the solid ground;
The forests wave, the mountains nod around;
Through all their summits tremble Ida's woods,
And from their sources boil her hundred floods.
Troy's turrets totter on the rocking plain;
And the toss'd navies beat the heaving main.
Deep in the dismal regions of the dead,
Th' infernal monarch rear'd his horrid head,
Leap'd from his throne, lest Neptune's arm should
lay
His dark dominions open to the day,
And pour in light on Pluto's drear abodes, Abhorr'd by men, and dreadful ev'n to Gods. Such war th' Immortals wage; such horrors rend The world's vast concave, when the Gods contend.
PREDICTION OF THE ORIGIN OF ROME. RING'S VIRGIL.
'Twas night, and weary nature lull'd asleep The birds of air, the fishes of the deep, And beasts and mortal men. With care opprest The Trojan Chief had laid him down to rest By Tiber's flood; the war's impending woes There for a while had banish'd calm repose; At last soft slumber clos'd his longing eyes, His couch the bank, his canopy the skies. When 'mid the poplars, from his native bed Old Tiberinus rear'd his rev'rend headAn azure mantle wrapp'd his form around, His sea-green locks with shady reeds were crown'd: Then thus the friendly Pow'r the Chief address'd, To sooth the sorrows lab'ring in his breast:
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