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Sons of honour, fed on praises,
Flutt'ring high in fancied worth, Lo! the fickle air, that raises,
Brings us down to parent earth.
Learned sophs, in systems jaded,
Who for new ones daily call, Cease, at length, by us persuaded,
Ev'ry leaf must have its fall. Youths, tho' yet no losses grieve you,
Gay in health and manly grace, Let not cloudless skies deceive you,
Summer gives to Autumn place. Venerable sires, growu hoary,
Hither turn th' unwilling eye, Think, amidst your falling glory,
Autumn tells a Winter nigh.
Messengers of shortest stay,
6 Heaven and earth shall pass away."
On the tree of life eternal,
Man, let all thy hope be staid, Which alone, for ever vernal,
Bears a leaf that shall not fade.
“ Amid the dreary gloom of night, I cry,
“ Alas! no more that joyous morn appears
“ That led the tranquil hours of spotless-fame; “ For I have steep'd a father's couch in tears, " And ting'd a mother's glowing cheek with
" The vocal birds that raise their matin strain,
" And talk of truth and innocence alone.
“ If thro' the garden's flow'ry tribes I stray,
- For we are spotless, Jessy; we are pure.
• Ye Aow'rs! that well reproach a nymph so frail,
“Say, could ye with my virgin fame compare? • The brightest bud that scents the vernal gale
“ Was not so fragrant, and was not so fair. 16. Now the grave old alarm the gentler young, " And all
6. That bids the morn propitious smile on me.
• Thus for your sake I shun each human eye;
“ I bid the sweets of blooming youth adieu ; “ To die I languish, but I dread to die, “Lest my sad fate should nourish
“ Raise me from earth; the pains of want remove,
6. And let me silent seek some friendly shore ; “ There only, banish'd from the form I love,
My weeping virtue shall relapse no more. " Be but
I ask no dearer name; “ Be such the meed of some more artful fair; “ Nor could it heal my peace, or chase my shame,
" That pity gave what love refus'd to share. “ Force not niy tongue to ask its scanty bread,
- Nor hurl thy Jessy to the vulgar crew; - Not such the parent's board at which I fed !
“ Not such the precepts from his lips I drew! “ Haply, when age has silver'd o'er my hair,
“ Malice may learn to scorn so mean a spoil; Envy may slight a face no longer fair ;
“ And Pity welcome to my native soil.” She spoke-nor was I born of savage race,
Nor could these hands a niggard boon assign; Grateful she clasp'd me in a last embrace,
And vow'd to waste her life in pray’rs for mine.
I saw her foot the lofty bark ascend;
I saw her breast with every passion heave; I left her-torn from every earthly friend;
Oh! my hard bosom, which could bear to leave!
Brief let me be,-the fatal storm arose,
The billows rag'd, the pilot's art was vain ; O’er the tall mast the circling surges close;
My Jessy floats upon the wat'ry plain! And, see my youth's impetuous fires decay;
Seek not to stop reflection's bitter tear; But warn the frolic, and instruct the gay,
From Jessy floating on her wat'ry bier!
TO A FRIEND.
HEALTH to my Friend, and many a cheerful day
Around his seat may peaceful shades abide ! Smooth flow the minutes, fraught with smiles,
away, And, 'till they crown our union, gently glide. Ah me! too swiftly fleets our vernal bloom !
Lost to our wonted friendship, lost to joy! Soon may thy breast the cordial wish resume,
Ere wintry doubt its tender warmth destroy. Say; were it our's, by Fortune's wild command,
By chance to meet beneath the torrid zone; Wou'dst thou reject thy Damon's plig
hand Wou'dst thou with scorn thy once lov'd friend
Life is that stranger land, that alien clime;
Shall kindred souls forego their social claim ? Launch'd in the vast abyss of space
and time, Shall dark suspicion quench the gen'rous fame? Myriads of souls, that knew one parent mold,
See sadly sever'd by the laws of chance ! Myriads, in Time's perennial list enroll'd,
Forbid by Fate to change one transient glance!
But we have met—where ills of every form,
Where passions rage, and hurricanes descend :
And guide them to the bosom of a friend?
Might our joint aid the paths of peace explore !
Ere death divide us, and we meet no more:
For oh! pale sickness warns thy friend away!
For me no more the vernal roses bloom ! I see stern fate his ebon wand display,
And point the wither'd regions of the tomb.
Then the keen anguish from thine
eye shall start, Sad as thou follow'st my untimely bier ; se Fool that I was if friends so soon must part,
** To let suspicion intermix a fear.”