What though thy words will not unfold Oh! yes, that power that gave thee breath ON SEEING SOME SCHOOL-BOYS IN THE GREEN COURT AT CANTERBURY, BY MISS BRYDGES. Or warriors here a fancied, train, With drums and fifes advance, Perhaps 'mid this fantastic band Some future Wolfe may tread, When Time has nerv'd the infant hand, And Youth its roses shed. Yon tiny elf, on stilts upborne, A giant stalks the green, While by those props that raise his form, His childish folly's seen: 'Tis thus, when rais'd by wealth or birth, To fill a lofty sphere, The idle coxcomb's want of worth, More plainly must appear! VERSES WRITTEN ON THE SEA-SHORE. BY ADELINE, 1 LOVE to linger near the leafless wood, Where cold and shrill the blasts of Winter blow, Drifting the branches o'er the roaring flood, And heaving wild yon mountain's robe of snow. From the drear scene recedes the evening star, And hides her fair head in the concave high, As if she fear'd, 'mid crashing Nature's war, The threaten'd ruin of her shaking sky. To yonder tower, that frowns upon the steep, And oft the traveller views the charmed beam On that lone spot, to Superstition dear, Is seen the sod that wraps the slumberer's breast, Where the lost Suicide found peace and rest. Within the precincts of yon dreaded tomb Memory ne'er told him of a parent's care; Thro' Grief's dark maze she led him to the goal, On the dark brow of yonder cliff sublime, For oft, when darkness shrouds the light of Heaven, And the pale moon slumbers on Midnight's breast, On these wild rocks the tide-worn barks are driven, And mangled forms sweep o'er the watery waste, Angels of peace! at this tremendous hour, Disarm the pallid spectre train of death, And bind the wild winds, whose blood-freezing breath |