Soon as unwelcome night begins its sway, And throws its fable mantle o'er the day; The withering glories of the garden fade, And weeping groves bewail their lonely shade; To melancholy filence men retire, And no sweet note sounds from the feather'd choir: But hardly can the rifing morn display The purple ensigns of approaching day, But the glad gardens deck themselves anew, And groves refresh d shake off their heavy dew: To daily labor man himself devotes, An birds in anthems strain their little throats. So without THEE, I grieve, I pine, I mourn; So triumph, fo revive, at thy return. But thou, unkind, bid'st me delight my eyes With other beauties, other rarities. Sometimes thou bid'ft me mark the flow'ry field, What various scent and shews the meadows yield; Then to the STARS thou dost direct

my sight,
For they from Thine derive their borrow'd light.
Then say'st, contemplate Man! in him thou'lt fee
The great resemblance of thy Love and me.
Why would'st thou thus deceive me with a shade,
A trifling image, that will quickly fade?
My fancy stoops not to a mortal aim,
Thou, thou hast kindled, and must quench my flame,

O glorious face, worthy a power divine,
Where love and awe with equal mixture shine!
Triumphant majesty of that bright ray
Where blushing angels proftrate homage pay!

We

We in thy works thy fix'd impressions trace,
Yet still but faint reflections of thy face.
When this inchanted world's compar'd with thee,
Its boasted beauty's all deformity :
The truth of this the fages best declare,
Who on the mount thy blest spectators were:
Thy shining visage all the God confeft,
And lambent fames thy facred temples dreft.

Nor can we b:ame thy great apostle's zeal,
To whom thou did'st that pleasing sight reveal;
Who, slighting all before accounted dear,
Was straight for building tabernacles there.
Yet he beheld thee clouded with a veil,
The killing rays thou kindly did’st conceal :
He saw a milder flame thy face surround,
And all thy glories with less glory crown'd:
As when the silver moon's reflected beam,
In some clear evening gilds the smiling stream:
Or cloud-born lightning in its nimble race
Paints on a trembling wave its blushing face.

Oh! when shall I behold thee all serene,
Without one envious cloud to intervene?
When will that happy day of vision be,
When I shall near approach, great God, to thee?
When distant faith shall in near vision cease,
And with my fight my fervent love increase?
That happy day, dear as these eyes shall be,
And more than all the dearest things, but THEE.

'Tis true, the sacred elements impart Thy virtual presence to my faithful heart;

This,

M4

This, tho' a great, is an imperfect bliss,
T'embrace a cloud for the bright God I wish
To nobler joys my longing soul would fly,
And view thee in the heights of majesty.

E P I GRAM

ON THE EXCELLENCY OF THE MARRIAGE STATE.

MARRIAGE IS HONOR ABLE IN ALL."

HA

AIL, wedded love ! by gracious God design'd

At once the source and glory of mankind! 'Tis this, can toil and grief and pain assuage, Secure our youth, and dignify our age; 'Tis this, fair fame and guiltless pleasure brings, And shakes rich plenty from its brooding wings; Gilds duty's roughest paths with friendship's ray, And strews with roses sweet the narrow way. Not so the harlot-if it lawful be To mention vice, when praising chastity Not so the harlot plights her venal vow, With heart obdurate, and Corinthian brow, She fawns unfriendly, practis'd to beguile, Stings while the weeps, and murders in a smile. Fame, peace, and virtue, she at once destroys, And damns, most surely, whom she most enjoys.

THOUGHTS

THOUGHTS ON CANT. VIII, XIV,

MAKE HASTE, MY BELOVED, AND BE LIKE THE ROE OR THR

YOUNG HART UPON THE MOUNTAINS OF SPICES.

FROM HUGO.

ASTE!

Too weak to bear thy too refulgent light: [fight, - How does my tongue my love-fick soul betray ? This bids him Ay, whom That would beg to stay, Why should I then his absence thus engage, The grant will make one tedious hour an age ? Yet his too beauteous beams forbid his stay ; Fly then, my Love, or lay those beams away! Hadst thou on me this harsh injunction laid, The killing sound at once had struck me dead : But thy own flame, not mine, would have it so, I should be ages in pronouncing Go! I would not wish what now I do intreat; Then stay, and let me not persuade thee yet! Stay, stay my Life, and turn the deafen'd ear! Sure what I would not speak, thou should'It not hear. Hence let the wind my feign'd petition bear! 'Twas urgent fear, that form’d the halty pray’r. Yet oh! this melting heat forbids thy stay; Fly, fly, my Love, I burn if thou delay.

Oh!

1

Oh! let thy haste outstrip the hunted hind;
But that's too flow; fly like the swifter wind !
Fly till thou leav'it ev'n flagging thought behind !
Yet in thy flight a longing look bestow,
A, parting glance, that speaks thee loth to go.
When that is done, renew thy speed away;
Fly, Ay, my Love, there's death if thou delay!
Behold those lofty sky-faluting hills,
Where rich perfume from weeping trees diftills!
Where laurels, cedars, and soft myrtles grow,
And all the spice Arabia can bestow :
To their high tops direct thy nimble Alight,
Till thou, like them, art vanish'd from my sight!
Fly to the heights where raptur’d seraphs sing,
And smiling cherubs exercise their wing!
Fly till the stars appear as much below
Thy humble station, as above it now!
Those places are inur'd to heat and fire,
And what I dread, is what they most desire.
One spark's sufficient to inflame my soul ;
Impart a ray, nor once transmit the whole.
Then let thy haste the hunted hind out go,
And yet, methinks, thou should'st not leave me so!
Fly where thou may'st with pleasure oft look back,
Nor from my fight too far a journey take:
Keep such a distance as yon glorious sun,
When most he lights and gilds the paler moon!
But oh! the treach'ry of my soul forgive !
I cannot with thee, nor without thee, live.