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15. His cheek, where health with beauty glow'd,
A deadly pale o’ercast:
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,
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 wbat 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.
Her startling fancy found
22. Alone, appall’d, thus had she pass'd
The visionary valeWhen, 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.
BY MISS CARTER.
Tre midnight moon serenely smiles
O'er nature's soft repose,
Nor ruffling tempest blows,
Now ev'ry passion sinks to rest,
The throbbing heart lies still;
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?
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;
That brightens Clodio's face.
Perhaps the joy to these deny'de
The heart in friendship finds: Ah! dear delusion, gay conceit
Of visionary minds.
Howe'er our varying notions rove,
Yet all agree in one,
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,
The music of the mind.
WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT
BY THE SAME.
Ler coward Guilt, with pallid Fear,
To shelt'ring caverns fly,
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,
That breathes the vernal air,