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His wanton head with fading chaplets bound,
Dancing he leads his silly vot'ries on To precipices deep, o'er faithless ground,
Then laughing flies, nor hears their fruitless moan.
Some say “ from Etna's burning entrails torn,
“More fierce than tigers on the Lybian plain, “ Begot in tempests, and in thunder born,
“Love wildly rages, like the foaming main."
With darts and flames some arm his feeble hands,
His infant brow with regal honours crown, Whilst vanquish'd reason, bound with silken bands,
Meanly submissive falls before his throne.
Each fabling poet, sure, alike mistakes
The gentler power that reigns o'er tender hearts; Soft love no tempest hurls, no thunder shakes,
Nor wields the flaming torch, nor poison’d darts.
Heav'n-born, the brightest seraph of the sky,
For Eden's bow'r he left his blissful seat, When Adam's blameless suit was heard on high,
And Eve's wish'd presence chear'd his lone retreat.
At love's approach all earth rejoic'd;- each hill,
Each grove, that learnt it from the whisp'ring gale; Joyous the birds their loudest chorus fill,
And richer fragrance breathes in ev'ry vale.
Well pleas'd, in paradise awhile he roves,
With innocence and friendship, hand in hand ; Till sin found entrance in the with’ring groves,
And frighted innocence forsook the land.
But love, still faithful to the guilty pair,
With them was driv'n amidst a world of woes; Where oft he mourns his lost companion dear,
And trembling flies before his rigid foes. Honour in burnish'd steel completely clad,
And hoary wisdom, oft against him arm ; Suspicion pale, and disappointment sad,
Vain hopes, and frantic fears, his peace alarm. Then fly, dear Stella, from his fatal power,
His winning smiles that charm away thy peace, Content shall meet thee in fair friendship's bower
And star-crown'd virtue lead to endless bliss.
This poem is copied from the manuscript of Dr. Hawkesworth, and we have every reason to suppose has not appeared in print before.
LIFE, AN ODE.
Life! the dear precarious boon!
Let the muse, in fancy's glass,
See, they rise !-a nymph behold.
Tripping at her side, a boy
What is he succeeding now,
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; AGB-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 Wisk.
O Phoebus ! down the western sky,
Far hence, diffuse thy burning ray; Thy light to distant worlds supply,
And wake them to the cares of day. Come, gentle eve, the friend of ease ;
Come, Cynthia, lovely queen of night! Refresh me with a cooling breeze,
And cheer me with a lambent light.
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 ! Tby 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,