Tripping at her side, a boy
Shares her wonder and her joy;
This is FOLLY, CHILDHOOD's guide,
That is CHILDHOOD at her side.
What is he succeeding now,
Myrtles blooming on his brow,
Bright and blushing as the morn,
Not on earth a mortal born?
Shafts to pierce the strong I view,
Wings the flying to pursue ;-
Victim of his pow'r, behind
Stalks a slave of human kind,.
Whose disdain of all the free
Speaks his mind's captivity.
LOVE's the tyrant, YOUTH the slave ;
Youth in vain is wise or brave;
Love with conscious pride defies
All the brave and all the wise.
Who art thou with anxious mien Stealing o'er the shifting scene? Eyes, with tedious vigils red, Sighs, by doubts and wishes bred; Cautious steps, and glancing leer, Speak thy woes, and speak thy fear: Arm in arm, what wretch is he Like thyself, who walks with thee? Like thy own his fears and woes, All thy pangs his bosom knows :→→ Well, too well, my boding breast Knows the names your looks suggest; Anxious, busy, restless pair!
MANHOOD, link'd by fate to CARE,
Wretched state! and yet 'tis dear
Fancy, close the prospect here!
Close it, or recall the past,
Spare my eyes, my heart, the last
Vain the wish! the last appears,
While I gaze they swim in tears;
AGE-my future self-I trace
Moving slow with feeble pace,
Bending with disease and cares,
All the load of life he bears;
White his locks, his visage wan,
Strength and ease and hope are gone
Death!the shadowy form I know!
Death o'ertakes him, dreadful foe!
Swift they vanish-mournful sight,
Night succeeds, impervious night!-
What these dreadful glooms conceal
Fancy's glass can ne'er reveal;
When shall time the veil remove?
When shall light the scene improve?
When shall truth my doubts dispel?
Awful period!who can tell?
The Midsummer Wish
O Phoebus! down the western skyséel Far hence, diffuse thy burning ray:
Thy light to distant worlds supply,
And wake them to the cares ofessor
Lay me where o'er the verdant ground,
Her living carpet nature spreads,‹
Where the green bow'r with roses crown'd,
In show'rs its fragrant foliage spreads.
Improve the peaceful hour with wine,
Let music die along the grove,
Around the bowl let myrtles twine,
And ev'ry strain be tun'd to love.
Come Stella, queen of all my heart!
Come, born to fill its vast desires!
Thy looks perpetual joys impart;
Thy voice perpetual love inspires.
While all my wish and thine complete,
By turns we languish and we burn,
Let sighing gales our sighs repeat,
Our murmurs, murm'ring brooks return.
Let me, when nature calls to rest,
And blushing skies the morn foretel,
Sink on the down of Stella's breast,
And bid the waking world farewell.
AUTUMN; AN ODE.
Alas! with swift and silent pace,
Impatient time rolls on the year;
The seasons change, and nature's face
Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe.
Twas spring, 'twas summer, all was gay,
Now autumn bends a cloudy brow,
The flow'rs of spring are swept away,
And summer's fruits desert the bough
The verdant leaves that play'd on high,
And wanton'd in the western breeze,
Now trod in dust neglected lie,
As Boreas strips the bending trees.
The fields that wav'd with golden grain,
As russet heaths are wild and bare;
Not moist with dew, but drench'd in rain,.
Nor health, nor pleasure, wanders there.
No more, while through the midnight shade,.
Beneath the moon's pale orb I stray,
Soft pleasing woes my heart invade,
As Progne pours the melting lay;
From this capricious clime she soars ;-
O! would some god but wings supply,
To where each morn the spring restores,
Companion of her flight, I'd fly.
Vain wish! me fate compels to bear,
The downward season's iron reign;
Compels to breathe polluted air,
And shiver on a blasted plain.
What bliss to life can Autumn yield,
If gloom, and show'rs, and storms prevail,
And Ceres flies the naked field,
And flow'rs, and fruits, and Phoebus fail?
Oh! what remains, what lingers yet,
To cheer me in the dark'ning hour?-
The grape remains! the friend of wit,
In love and mirth of mighty power.
Haste, press the cluster, fill the bowl;
Apollo! shoot thy parting ray;
This gives the sunshine of the soul,
This god of health, and verse, and day.
Still, still, the jocund strain shall flow,
The pulse with vig'rous rapture beat;
My Stella with new charms shall glow,
And
every bliss in wine shall meet.
WINTER, AN ODE.
No more the morn with tepid rays,
Unfolds the flow'rs of various hue ;
Noon spreads no more the genial blaze,
Nor gentle eve distils the dew.
The ling'ring hours prolong the night,
Usurping darkness shares the day,
Her mists restrain the force of light,
And Phoebus holds a doubtful sway.
By gloomy twilight half reveal'd,
With sighs we view the hoary hill,
The leafless wood, the naked field,
The snow-topt cot, the frozen rill.
No music warbles through the grove,
No vivid colours paint the plain;
No more with devious steps I rove
Through verdant paths, now sought in vain.
Aloud the driving tempest roars,
Congeal'd impetuous show'rs descend; Haste, close the window, bar the doors,
Fate leaves me Stella, and a friend.
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