תמונות בעמוד

When dark Design invades the chearful hour,

And draws the heart with social freedom warm, It's cares, it's wishes, and it's thoughts to pour,

Smiling insidious with the hopes of harm.

Vain man! to others failings still severe,

Yet not one foible in himself can find; Another's faults to Folly's eye are clear,

But to her own e'en Wisdom's self is blind !

O let me still, from these low follies free,

This sordid malice, and inglorious strife,
Myself the subject of my censure be,
And teach my heart to comment on my


With thee, Philosophy, still let me dwell,

My tutor’d mind from vulgar meanness fave; Bring Peace, bring Quiet to my humble cell,

And bid them lay the green turf on my grave.

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BRIGHT o'er the green hills rose the morning ray,

The woodlark's song resounded on the plain ; Fair Nature felt the warm embrace of day,

And smil'd thro' all her animated reign.

When young Delight, of Hope and Fancy born,

His head on tufted wild-thyme half reclin'd, Caught the


colours of the orient morn, And thence of life this picture vain design'd.

• O born to thoughts, to pleasures more fublime,

Than beings of inferior nature prove ! To triumph in the golden hours of Time,

! And feel the charms of Fancy and of Love !

• High-favour'd man ! for him unfolding fair

• In orient light this native landscape smiles ; · For him sweet Hope disarms the hand of Care, .. Exalts his pleasures, and his grief beguiles.

• Blows not a blossom on the breast of Spring,

• Breathes not a gale along the bending mead, Trills not a songster of the foaring wing,

But fragrance, health, and melody, succeed.

• O let me still with simple Nature live,

• My lowly field-flowers on her altar lay; Enjoy the blessings that the meant to give, • And calmly waste my inoffenfive day!

• No titled name, no envy-teazing dome,

! No glitt'ring wealth my tutor'd wishes crave ;
So Health and Peace be near my humble home,
« A cool stream murmur, and a green tree wave.

. So may the sweet Euterpe not disdain

• At Eve's chaste hour her silver lyre to bring ; · The muse of pity wake her foothing strain,

And tune to fympathy the trembling string.

• Thus glide the penfive moments o'er the vale,

• While floating shades of dulky night descend : Not left untold the lover's tender tale,

Nor unenjoy'd the heart-enlarging friend.

To love and friendfhip flow the social bowl !

To attick wit and elegance of mind; - To all the native beauties of the soul,

· The simple charms of truth, and sense refin'd!

. Then

• Then to explore whatever ancient sage,

• Studjous, from Nature's early volume drew ; « To chase sweet Fiction thro' her golden age,

• And mark how fair the fun-flower, Science, blew !

• Haply to catch some spark of eastern fire,

• Hesperian fancy, or Aönian eafe; • Some melting note from Sappho's tender lyre,

• Some strain that Love and Phæbus taught to please.

When waves the grey light o'er the mountain's head,

• Then let me meet the morn's first beauteous ray ; « Carelessly wander from my fylvan shed,

• And catch the sweet breath of the rising day.

« Nor seldom, loit'ring as I muse along,

• Mark from what flow'r the breeze it's sweetness bore; « Or listen to the labour-foothing fong

• Of bees that range the thymy uplands o'er.

*Slow let me climb the mountain's airy brow,

• The green height gain'd, in museful rapture lie;
Sleep to the murmur of the woods below,
• Or look on Nature with a lover's eye.

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Delightful hours ! Q, thus for ever flow!

• Led by fair Fancy round the varied year : < So shall my breast with native raptures glow,

• Nor feel one pang from folly, pride, or fear.

• Firm be my heart to Nature and to Truth,

• Nor vainly wander from their dictates fage ; • So Joy Mall triumph on the brows of youth,

• So Hope shall smooth the dreary paths of age.


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OH! yet, ye dear, deluding vifions, stay!

Fond hopes, of Innocence and Fancy born! For you I'll cast these waking thoughts away;

For one wild dream of life's romantick morn.

Ah! no: the sunshine o'er each object spread

By flatt'ring Hope, the flow'rs that blew so fair ; Like the gay gardens of Armida fled,

And vanilh'd from the powerful rod of Care.

So the poor pilgrim, who, in rapt’rous thought,

Plans his dear journey to Loretto's fhrine: Seems on his way by guardian seraphs brought ;

Sees aiding angels favour his design.

Ambrosial blossoms, such of old as blew

By those fresh founts on Eden's happy plain, And Sharon's roses all his passage strew!

So Fancy dreams but Fancy's dreams are vain.

Wafted and weary, on the mountain's fide,

His way unknown, the hapless pilgrim lies ;
Or takes some ruthless robber for his guide,

beneath his cruel fabre dies.

Life's morning-landscape, gilt with orient light,

Where Hope, and Joy, and Fancy, hold their reign ; The grove's green wave, the blue stream sparkling bright,

The blythe hours dancing round Hyperion's wain ;

În radiant colours Youth's free hand pourtrays,

Then holds the flattering tablet to his eye; Nor thinks how soon the vernal grove decays,

Nor sees the dark cloud gathering o'er the sky.


Hence Fancy, conquer'd by the dart of Pain,

And wand'ring far from her Platonick shade, Mourns o’er the ruins of her transient reign,

Nor unrepining fees her vifions fade.

Their parent banislı'd, hence her children Ay;

The fairy race that fill'd her festive train :
Joy tears his wreath, and Hope inverts her eye,

And Folly wonders that her dream was vain.



B ,

EHOLD yon new-born infant, griev'd

With hunger, thirst, and pain ;
That ass to have the wants reliev'd,

It knows not to complain.

Aloud the speechless fuppliant cries,

And utters, as it can,
The woes that in it's bosom rise,

And speak it's nature-man.

That infant, whose advancing hour

Life's various forrows try,
(Sad proof of fin's transmissive pow'r !)

That infant, Lord ! am I.

A childhood yet my thoughts confess,

Tho' long in years mature ;
Unknowing whence I feel distress,

And where, or what it's cnre.


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