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15.

His cheek, where health with beauty glow'd,

A deadly pale o'ercast:

So fades the fresh rose in its prime,

Before the northern blast.

16.

The parents now, with late remorse,

Hung o'er his dying bed;

And wearied Heaven, with fruitless vows,

And fruitless sorrow shed.

17.

""Tis past!" he cry'd-" but if your souls

Sweet Mercy yet can move,

Let these dim eyes once more behold

What they must ever love!"

18.

She came; his cold hand softly touch'd,
And bath'd with many a tear;
Fast-falling o'er the primrose pale,
So morning dews appear.

19.

But, oh! his sister's jealous care

(A cruel sister she)

Forbade what Emma came to say;

"My Edwin! live for me."

20.

Now homeward as she hopeless wept

The church-yard path along,

The blast blew cold, the dark owl scream'd

Her lover's funeral song.

21.

Amid the falling gloom of night,

Her startling fancy found

In

every bush his hovering shade,

His

groan in every sound.

22.

Alone, appall'd, thus had she pass'd

The visionary vale

When, lo! the death-bell smote her ear,

Sad-sounding in the gale!

23.

Just then she reach'd, with trembling step,

Her aged mother's door

"He's gone!" she cry'd; "and I shall see That angel-face no more!

24.

"I feel, I feel this breaking heart

Beat high against my side-"

From her white arm down sunk her head;

She shivering, sigh'd, and died.

AN ENQUIRY

AFTER HAPPINESS.

BY MISS CARTER.

THE midnight moon serenely smiles
O'er nature's soft repose,
No low'ring cloud obscures the sky,
Nor ruffling tempest blows.

Now ev'ry passion sinks to rest,
The throbbing heart lies still;
And varying schemes of life no more
Distract the lab'ring will.

In silence hush'd, to Reason's voice
Attends each mental pow'r;
Come, dear Emilia, and enjoy
Reflection's fav'rite hour.

Come; while the peaceful scene invites,

Let's search this ample round; Where shall the lovely fleeting form Of Happiness be found?

Does it amidst the frolic mirth

Of gay assemblies dwell?
Or hide beneath the solemn gloom
That shades the hermit's cell?

How oft the laughing brow of joy
A sick'ning heart conceals!

And through the cloister's deep recess
Invading sorrow steals.

In vain through beauty, fortune, wit,

The fugitive we trace;

It dwells not in the faithless smile
That brightens Clodio's face.

Perhaps the joy to these deny'd,
The heart in friendship finds :
Ah! dear delusion, gay conceit
Of visionary minds.

Howe'er our varying notions rove,

Yet all agree in one,

To place its being in some state
At distance from our own.

O blind to each indulgent aim
Of pow'r, supremely wise,
Who fancy Happiness in aught,
The hand of Heav'n denies!

Vain are alike the joys we seek,
And vain what we possess,
Unless harmonious Reason tunes

The passions into peace.

To temper'd wishes, just desires,
Is Happiness confin'd,

And, deaf to Folly's call, attends
The music of the mind.

WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT

IN A

THUNDER STORM.

BY THE SAME.

LET coward Guilt, with pallid Fear,
To shelt'ring caverns fly,

And justly dread the vengeful fate
That thunders through the sky.

Protected by that Hand, whose law
The threat'ning storms obey,
Intrepid Virtue smiles secure,
As in the blaze of day.

In the thick cloud's tremendous gloom The lightning's lurid glare,

It views the same all-gracious Power

That breathes the vernal air.

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