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mense riches, he gave his hand to another; thus sacrificing peace, honour, and humanity, at the “tinsel shrine of Fortune.” His marriage, as might be expected, commencing with infamy, terminated in sorrow, and shortened a life that seemed to possess a claim to longevity. His last hours were those of repentance and horror: before his death he frequently visited the grave of his beloved but deserted JULIA, and strewed flowers, mingled with sighs, on her sod: and if a long and unfeigned contrition might be allowed to atone for the insanity of a moment, his tears must have obliterated his offences. Naturally of a poetical turn, he wrote a number of what he modestly called his love trifles, and sent occasionally to his Mistress, during the paroxysm of his passion, some of which we have subjoined, that seem to breathe a spirit of sincerity, whose foundation one would imagine could never have been shaken by the feeble arm of a puerile ambition.
ELEGY T. Ile despairs of obtaining the smiles of his Mistress.
What are the thunders of the ruthless wind ?
And what the billows that tumultuous roll? ; Calms to the raging tempest of my mind,-
Rills to the restless surges of my soul.
Intent to please, I vainly urge my toil;
No hopes, alas! the Virgin's looks impart: O tell me, JULIA, what can win thy smile ?
O speak, and heave the mountain from my heart.
What can I do to win a cruel maid?
The front of Danger willing would I brave: No coward terror can this heart invade,
Whose chiefest glory is to be thy slave.
Fate holds no horror while I please my FAIR;
Then, Julia, bid me my fond passion prove : All, all thy rigour can command, I dare,
But lose thine image, and forget to love.
Instead of composing for fame, he resolves to writo
the praises of JULIA.
NO more I 'll idly pour the line for praise:
Far loftier hopes my glowing fancy move ; I ask the Muses for their sweetest lays,
To tell a beauteous Maid, how much I love.
Vain are our vows to Fame! alas, how vain!
She waits to see us on the mournful bier, Before she yields of eulogy the strain:
What cruel mock’ry to the lifeless ear!
To Julia's hand I own my wish aspires :
Mean are my merits-hers how far above! Yet can I boast what only she requires,
A heart to guard her, and a soul to love.
Tho' Courts admir’d, the modest Julia chose
The silent shade, remote from public view: How like the berry that in secret glows,
And hides beneath a leaf its blushful hue!
Few are the wishes of the constant Pair:
What tho' no gold their humble cot displays; Content, their guest, thus cries with careless air,
“Go, leave us, WEALTH, and palaces emblaze.”
In rural bowers CONTENT delights to dwell;
To cull the sweets of Nature's simple vale; To join the hermit in the mossy cell,
And join the nymphs and shepherds of the dale.
To FORTUNE's tinsel shrine let others bow,
And to their wishes rear the golden pile :
And let my only treasure be her smile.
He complains of Julia's not keeping her appoint
ment to meet him.
What demons keep my soul's delight away,
And cruel thus my fondest wish invade ? Alas ! I tremble at the setting ray!
Pale Evening waves around an envious shade!
How expectation loads th' important hour!
Impatience wilder with each moment grows! Thou loit'ring FAIR-ONE, bless th' appointed
bow'r, And snatch thy lover from a thousand woes.
From vale to vale my eager gaze I strain ;
From glade to glade with wild emotion move; Now turn and sigh, now move and turn again,
Devour each sound, and chide my ling’ring love.