Far different these from every former scene,
The cooling brook, the grassy-vested green,
The breezy covert of the warbling grove,

That only sheltered thefts of harmless love. [day, Good heaven! what sorrows gloomed that parting That called them from their native walks away; When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, Hung round the bowers, and fondly looked their last, And took a long farewell, and wished in vain For seats like these beyond the western main; And, shuddering still to face the distant deep, Returned and wept, and still returned to weep. The good old sire, the first prepared to go To new-found worlds, and wept for others' wo; But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, He only wished for worlds beyond the grave. His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, The fond companion of his helpless years, Silent went next, neglectful of her charms, And left a lover's for a father's arms. With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, And blessed the cot where every pleasure rose; And kissed her thoughtless babes with many a tear, And clasped them close, in sorrow doubly dear; While her fond husband strove to lend relief

In all the silent manliness of grief.

O, luxury! thou cursed by heaven's decree, How ill exchanged are things like these for thee! How do thy potions with insidious joy, Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy!

Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown,
Boast of a florid vigour not their own.

At every draught large and more large they grow,
A bloated mass of rank unwieldy wo;

Till sapped their strength, and every part unsound,
Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.
E'en now the devastation is begun,

And half the business of destruction done;
E'en now, methinks, as pondering here I stand,
I see the rural virtues leave the land.

Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail
That idly waiting flaps with every gale,
Downward they move, a melancholy band,

Pass from the shore and darken all the strand.
Contented toil, and hospitable care,
And kind connubial tenderness, are there;
And piety, with wishes placed above,
And steady loyalty, and faithful love.

And thou, sweet poetry, thou loveliest maid,
Still first to fly where sensual jôys invade;
Unfit, in these degenerate times of shame,
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame;
Dear charming nymph! neglected and decried,
My shame in crowds, my solitary pride.
Thou source of all my bliss, and all my wo,
Thou found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so.
Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel,
Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well;
Farewell, and O! where'er thy voice be tried,
On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side,

Whether where equinoctial fervours glow,
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow,
Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of the inclement clime;
Aid slighted truth, with thy persuasive strain;
Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain;
Teach him, that states of native strength possessed,
Though very poor, may still be very blessed;
That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay,
As ocean sweeps the laboured mole away;
While self-dependent power can time defy,
As rocks resist the billows and the sky.

Miscellaneous Poems.

EDWIN AND ANGELINA.

TURN, gentle hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,
To where yon taper cheers the vale
With hospitable ray :

'For here forlorn and lost I tread,
With fainting steps and slow;
Where wilds immeasurably spread,
Seem lengthening as I go.'

'Forbear, my son,' the Hermit cries,
'To tempt the dangerous gloom;
For yonder faithless phantom flies
To lure thee to thy doom.

'Here to the houseless child of want

My door is open still;

And though my portion is but scant,
I give it with good will.

'Then turn to-night, and freely share

Whate'er my cell bestows;

My rushy couch and frugal fare,
My blessing and repose.

F