As on she moves with hesitating grace,
She wins assurance from his soothing voice;
And, with a look the pencil could not trace,
Smiles thro' her blushes, and confirms the choice.

Spare the fine tremors of her feeling frame!
To thee she turns-forgive a virgin's fears!
To thee she turns, with surest, tenderest claim,
Weakness that charms, reluctance that endears.

At each response the sacred rite requires,
From her full bosom bursts the unbidden sigh,
A strange mysterious awe the scene inspires;
And on her lips the trembling accents die.

O'er her fair face what wild emotions play!
What lights and shades, in sweet confusion blend!
Soon shall they fly, glad harbingers of day,
And settled sunshine on her soul descend.

Ah soon thine own confest, extatic thought,

That hand shall strew each flinty path with flow'rs; And those blue eyes, with mildest lustre fraught, Gild the calm current of domestic hours.

From a MS.

A GIPSY BALLAD.

A WANDERING Gipsy, sirs, am I,
From Norwood, where we oft complain,
With many a tear and many a sigh,
Of blust'ring winds and rushing rain.

No rooms so fine, nor gay attire,
Amid our humble shed appear,
Nor beds of down, nor blazing fire,
At night our shiv'ring limbs to cheer.

Alas! no friends come near our cot!
The red-breasts only find the way,
Who give their all-a simple note,—
At peep of morn, and parting day.

But fortunes here I come to tell;

Then yield me, gentle sir, your hand;Amid those lines what thousands dwell! And bless me what a heap of land!

This surely, sir, must pleasing be,
To hold such wealth in ev'ry line!
Try, pray now try, if you can see
A little treasure lodg'd in mine.
Holding out her hand.

Peter Pindar.

TO A LADY WHO HAD LOST HER GARTER.

By a Gentleman going to the West Indies.

CELIA, the captive garter's mine,
'Tis all my faithful love could gain;
And can'st thou ask me to resign
The only bliss that crowns my pain?

As soon the soldier who has run
Thro' fields of death to gather fame,
As soon shall lay his laurel's down,
And all his dear-bought praise disclaim.

The garter is, and shall be mine,

Shall lose the bliss it had from you;
And bear the task that I'd enjoin
On thee, wert thou my captive too.

It shall upon my bosom heave,

Or clasp me in a soft embrace;
But if you at its fortune grieve,
Retrieve its doom, and take its place.

Ah no! with cold indiff'rence you
Can hear my sighs, and see my pain;
Superior to my humble love,

Too generous to shew disdain.

When distant from my native land,
From dearer thee I lonely go;
The garter shall my steps attend,
A silent witness of my woe.

Divided from its other half,

Sad emblem of my own distress; 'Twill calmly hear what bashful love To you durst ne'er presume t'express.

And when at last some noxious gale,
Blown from the bleak Atlantic wave,
Or rising from the Indian fens,

Shall lay me in my silent

grave;

It shall present you to my view,

To arm me 'gainst the dread of death;

Shall hear me fondly talk of you,

And bless you with my latest breath.

Gentleman's Magazine.

ODE TO CONTENT.

To thee, mild source of homefelt joy!,

To thee I vow this artless lay,

For, nymph divine! no cares alloy,

No griefs pollute thy halcyon clay.

Though soft the moon her mellow light O'er yonder mould'ring tow'r hath shed, Though soft as sleeps her beam on night, Yet softer sleeps thy, peaceful head.

For thee, the fairy sprite of morn,

Her sweet, her varied dream shall weave; For thee, thy wood-girt thatch adorn, The calm, the golden light of eve.

For thee, the cool stream murm'ring slow,
The
green, the winding vale along ;
For thee, where yonder wild pines grow,
The maiden breathes her village song.

When wilt thou haunt my straw-roof'd cot,
When wilt thou bless my longing arms,
When shall I claim thy lonely lot,
When shall I share thy modest charms?

I ne'er will ask of purple pride,
Her gems that idly fire the night,
The gems that o'er her tresses wide
In lustre fling their garish light.

Nor will I ask of power to whirl,

In terror cloth'd, the scythed car ; And, mad with fury, shout to hurl The dark, the deadly spear of war.