FUGITIVE POETRY. IMITATED FROM THE ITALIAN. SWIFTLY bounds the mettled courser; Swift the flying moments move; Haste, my beauteous maid, Iöle, Give the fleeting hour to love! Soon is nipp'd the bud of beauty; Quickly fades the flower of youth; Seize in time, the blest occasion, To reward thy shepherd's truth. Cynthia, glittering in yon river, Meekly sheds her paly ray; Soon Aurora's mantling blushes, Usher in the new born day; Winter strips the leafy forest; Frost and snow deform the year; Soon returns the vernal season; Soon the infant buds appear. We but flourish for one summer; That elaps'd, no more can boast; Death entombs our hopes in darkness, When the light of life is lost. Ghosts in dreary realms of Pluto, Ne'er the kind affections move; They, immers'd in cold oblivion, Lend no more the thought to love. Since allow'd to taste of pleasure, Blameless bliss without alloy; While lole's young and blooming, Give the laughing hours to joy. We'll despise each idle rumour, Of the age, to Love severe, When the tresses silver'd over, Speak the grisly phantom near. Swiftly bounds the mettled courser; Swift the flying moments move; Haste, my beauteous maid, löle, Give the fleeting hour to Love! SONNET. THE midnight storm is high, and sadness brings A sin to feel delight, the blast that blows Is quickly perish'd, and its breath forgot: Bright let the tapers beam: the ruddy fire With heightened resiness exalt the glow Of woman's blooming cheek; and wine inspire The open heart's exhilarating flow! Who that is wise, would yield the passing bour To bitterness, when bliss is in his power? PHOEBE'S ABSENCE. My pastures with beauty are clad, Each shepherd and shepherdess mourns, |