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Amid the paly radiance soft and sad,
No more your sky-larks melting from the sight Shall thrill the attuned heart-string with delight No more shall deck your pensive Pleasures sweet With wreaths of sober hue my evening seat
Yet dear 10 Fancy's eye your varied scene Of wood, hill, dale, and sparkling brook between Yet sweet to Fancy's ear the warbled song, That soars on Morning's wings your vales anong
Spirits of Love! ye heard her name! obey
Scenes of my Hope! the aching eye ye leave, Like yon bright hues that paint the clouds of ere! Tearful and saddening with the sadden'd blaze, Mine eye the gleam pursues with wistful gaze, Sees shades on shades with deeper tint impend, Till chill and damp the moonless night descend
Spirits! to you the infant Maid was given,
As late each flower that sweetest blows
Around his brows a beamy wreath
I softly seized the unguarded Power,
O (have I sigh’d) were mine the wizard's rod,
But when unweeting of the guile
Ah! soon the soul-entrancing sight
As when the Savage, who his drowsy frame
ONE kiss, dear Maid! I said and sigh'd
Dear native brook ! like Peace, so placidly
a mellow'd ray, Where Love a crown of thornless Roses wears, Where soften'd Sorrow smiles within her tears; And Memory, with a Vestal's chaste employ, Unceasing feeds the lambent flame of joy!
Yon viewless Wanderer of the vale,
And He the glitter of the Dew
From the pomp of sceptred state,
Too well those lovely lips disclose
TO A YOUNG ASS.
ITS MOTHER BEING TETHERED NEAR IT.
Poor little foal of an oppressed race!
Whex Youth his faery reign began
Still, Mary! still I sigh for thee.
Poor Ass! thy master should have learnt to show
EPITAPH ON AN INFANT.
ERE Sin could blight or Sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care ;
And bado it blossom there.
ROSS. How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play,
FORMERLY THE HOUSE OF THE “ MAN OF ROSS." And frisk about, as lamb or kitten gay! Yea! and more musically sweet te me
Richer than miser o'er his countless hoards, Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be,
Nobler than kings, or king-polluted lords, Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest
Here dwelt the man of Ross! O Traveller, hear! The aching of pale fashion's vacant breast! Departed merit claims a reverent tear.
Friend to the friendless, to the sick man health,
He hears the widow's heaven-breath'd prayer of
He mark'd the shelter'd orphan's tearful gaze, Tell me, on what holy ground
Or where the sorrow-shrivell d captive lay, May Domestic Peace be found ?
Pours the bright blaze of Freedom's noontide ray. Halcyon Daughter of the skies,
Beneath this roof if thy cheer'd moments pass, Far on fearful wings she flies,
! Fill to the good man s name one gratelul glass
To higher zest shall Memory wake thy soul, Remorse, the poison'd arrow in his side,
And loud lewd Mirth, to anguish close allied :
Darts her hot lightning hash athwart the brain.
Thine all that cheer the moment as it flies,
And in thy heart they wither'd! Such chill dew LINES TO A BEAUTIFUL SPRING IN A
Wan indolence on each young blossom shed;
And Vanity her filmy net-work spread,
With eye that roll’d around, in asking gaze, Once more, sweet Stream! with slow foot wander- And tongue that traffick'd in the trade of praise. ing near,
Thy follies such! the hard worid mark'd them well I bless thy milky waters cold and clear.
Were they more wise, the proud who never fell ? Escaped the flashing of the noontide hours
Rest, injur'd shade! the poor man's grateful prayer With one fresh garland of Pierian flowers
On heavenward wing thy wounded soul shall bear (Ere from thy zephyr-haunted brink I turn)
As oft at twilight gloom thy grave I pass, My languid hand shall wreath thy mossy urn. And sit me down upon its recent grass, For not through pathless grove with murmur rude With introverted eye I contemplate Thou soothest the sad wood-nymph, Solitude ; Similitude of soul, perhaps of Fate! Nor thine unseen in cavern depths to well, To me hath Heaven with bounteous hand assign'd The Hernit-fountain of some dripping cell! Energic Reason and a shaping mind, Pride of the Vale! tny useful streams supply The daring ken of Truth, the Patriot's part, The scatter'd cots and peaceful hamlet nigh. And Pity's sigh, that breathes the gentle heart. The elfin tribe around thy friendly banks
Sloth-jaundic d all! and from my graspless hand With infant uproar and soul-soothing pranks, Drop Friendshi-'s precious pearls, like hour-glass Released from school, their little hearts at rest,
sand. Launch paper navies on thy waveless breast.
I weep, yet stoop not! the faint anguish flows,
A dreamy pang in Morning's feverish doze.
Is this piled earth our being's passless mound:
Tell me, cold grave! is Death with poppies crown'd She, vainly mindful of her dame's command, Tired sentinel! 'mid fitful starts I nod, Loiters, the long-fill'd pitcher in her hand.
And fain would sleep, though pillow'd on a clod!
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
Where first, beneath the echoing cloisters pale,
Full heavily of Sorrow would I sing.
Aye as the star of evening fung its beam
In broken radiance on the wavy stream, WHO DIED OF A FRENZY FEVER INDUCED BY CALUM. My soul amid the pensive twilight gloom NIOUS REPORTS.
Mourn'd with the breeze, O Lee Boo!* o'er thy tomb
Where'er I wander'd Pity stiil was near, EDMUND! thy grave with aching eye 1 scan, Breathed from the heart and glisten'd in the tear. And inly groan for Heaven's poor outcast-Man!
No knell that wolld, but fill'd my anxious eye, 'Tis tempest all or gloom: in early youth,
And suffering Nature wept that one should die !t If gifted with the Ithuriel lance of Truth, We force to start amid her feign'd caress
Thus to sad sympathies I soothed my breast, Vice, siren-hag! in native ugliness ;
Calm, as the rainbow in the weeping West : A brother's fate will haply rouse the tear,
When slumbering Freedom roused with high disdair And on we go in heaviness and sear!
With giant fury burst her triple chain !
• Lee Boo, the son of Abba Thule, Prince of the Pelew IslAnd mingled forms of Misery rise around :
ande, came over to England with Captain Wilson, died of the
small-pox, and is buried in Greenwich church-yard.-Seo Keate's Ileart-freuting Fear, with pallid look aghast,
Account. That courts the future woe to hide the past;
1 Southey's Retrospect.
Pierce on her front the blasting Dog-star glow'd; Of Pomp, and proud Precipitance of soul
That error's mist had left thy purged eye:
THOUGH roused by that dark Vizir, Riot rude And my heart aches, though Mercy struck the blow. Have driven our Priest over the ocean swell With wearied thought once more I seek the shade, Though Superstition and her wolfish brood Where peaceful Virtue weaves the myrtle braid.
Bay his mild radiance, impotent and fell; And 0! if eyes whose holy glances roll
Calm in his halls of brightness he sball dwell . Swift messengers, and eloquent of soul;
For lo ! Religion at his strong behest If smiles more winning, and a gentler mien
Starts with mild anger from the Papal spell, Than the love-wilder's Maniac's brain hath seen
And flings to earth her tinsel-glittering vest, Shaping celestial forms in vacant air,
Her mitred state and cumbrous pomp unholy ; If these demand the impassion'd poet's care
And Justice wakes to bid the Oppressor wail. If Mirth and soften'd Sense and Wit refined,
Insulting aye the wrongs of patient Folly: The blameless features of a lovely mind;
And from her dark retreat by Wisdom won, Then haply shall my trembling hand assign
Meek Nature slowly lifts her matron veil
To smile with fondness on her gazing son!
When British Freedom for a happier land
ERSKINE! thy voice she heard, and paused her flighi
Sublime of hope! For drcadless thou didst stand SONNET.
(Thy censer glowing with the hallow'd flame)
And at her altar pour the stream divine
or unmatch'd eloquence. Therefore thy name He struck with desultory hand, and drew
Her sons shall venerate, and cheer thy breast Some soften'd tones to Nature not untrue.
With blessings heavenward breathed. And when Boroles.
Of Nature bids thee die, beyond the tomb My heart has thank'd thee, Bowles ! for those soft Thy light shall shine : as sunk, beneath the West, strains,
Though the great Summer Sun eludes our gaze,
It was some Spirit, SHERIDAN! that breathed 'lheir mild and manliest melancholy lent
O'er thy young mind such wildly various povier! A mingled charm, such as the pang consign'd
My soul hath mark'd thee in her shaping hour, To slumber, though the big tear it renew'd;
Thy temples with Hymettian Now'reis wreathed: Bidding a strange mysterious Pleasure brood And sweet thy voice, as when o'er Laura's bior Over the wavy and iumultuous mind,
Sad music trembled through Vauclusa's gla lo; As the great Spirit erst with plastic sweep
Sweet, as at dawn the lovelorn serenade
That wafts soft dreams to Siumber's listening our
Meaning of Scorn and Wit's quaint revelry!
Writhes inly from the bosom-probing glance
The Apostate by the brainless rout adored, As late I lay in slumber's shadowy vale,
As erst that elder fiend beneath great Michael's sword With wetted cheek and in a mourner's guise, I saw the sainted form of Freedom rise : She spake! pot sadder moans the autumnal gale * Great Son of Genius! sweet to me thy name,
SONNET. Ere in an evil hour with alterd voice Thou bradst Oppressjon's hireling crew rejoice, O wulat a loud and fearful shriek was there, Blasting with wizard spell my laurelld fame. As though a thousand souls one death-groan pour'd Yei never, Burke! thou drank'st Corruption's bowl! Ah me! they view'd beneath a hireling's sword The stormy Pity and the cherish'd lure
Fallen Kosciusko! Through the burihen'd air
(As pauses the tired Cossack's barbarous yell
SWEET Mercy! how my very heart bas bled The dirge of murder'd Hope! while Freedom pale To see thee, poor Old Man and thy gray hairs Bends in such anguish o'er her destined bier, Hoar with the snowy blast: while no one cares As if frog eldest time sume Spirit meek
To clothe thy shriveli'd limbs and palsied head. Had gather'd in a mystic urn each tear
My Father! throw away this tatter'd vest That ever on a Patriot's furrow'd cheek
That mocks thy shivering! take my garment-use
My Sara too shall tend thee, like a Child:
He did not so, the Galilæan mild,
Who met the Lazars turn'd from rich men's doors,
And call'd them Friends, and heald their noisonio As when far off the warbled strains are heard
Thou bleedest, my poor Heart! and thy distress His Fellows' freedom soothes the Captive's cares :
Reasoning I ponder with a scornful smile, Thou, Fayette! who didst wake with startling voice Swoln be mine eye and dim with heaviness.
And probe thy sore wound sternly, though the while Life's better sun from that long wintry night, Thus in thy Country's triumphs shalt rejoice,
Why didst taou listen to Hope's whisper bland ? And mock with raptures high the dungeon's might: When Jealousy with feverish fancies pale
Or, listening, why forget the healing tale, For lo! the morning struggles into day,
Jarr'd thy fine fibres with a maniac's hand?
Faint was that Hope, and rayless!—Yet 't was fair
Even as a Mother her sweet infant heir
That wan and sickly droops upon her breast!
TO THE AUTHOR OF THE “ ROBBERS."
From the dark dungeon of the tower time-rent O pleasant days of Hope-for ever gone!
That fearful voice, a famish'd Father's eryCould I recall you But that thought is vain. Lest in some after moment aught more mean Availeth not Persuasion's sweetest tone
Might stamp me mortal! A triumphant shout To lure the fleet-wing'd travellers back again:
Black Horror scream'd, and all her goblin rout
Could I behold thee in thy loftier mood
Beneaih some vast old tempest-swinging wood!
Awhile with mute awe gazing I would brood;
Then weep aloud in a wild ecstasy!
COMPOSED WHILE CLIMBING THE LEFT ASCENT OF Mimic of Virtue, scowls on thy distress :
BROCKLEY COOMB, SOMERSETSHIRE, MAY, 1795 Thy loves and they, that envied thee, deride : With many a pause and oft-reverted eye And Vice alone will shelter wretchedness!
I climb the Coomb's ascent : sweet songsters near 0! I am sad to think, that there should be
Warble in shade their wild-wood melody:
Up scour the startling stragglers of the Flock