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BY JOSEPH RITCHIE, ESQ.
Thy chalky cliffs are fading from my view,
The food of my soul's youthful appetite,-
I never dreamt of beauty, but, behold,
I turned to those whom thou hast called thine own, Who fill the spacious earth with their and thy renown.
When my young heart, in life's gay morning ur,
For one by absence and long toil endeared,
Peace to thy smiling hearths, when I am gone ;
Still mayest thou bid the sorrowers cease to weep,
Starting, remotest nations see the light,
Strong in thy strength I go, and wheresoe'er
And some bright eyes, in which the swelling tear Shall start for him who sleeps in Afric's desarts drear.
Yet I will not profane a charge like mine,
Of all its fragrance,—that I yet shall greet
BY S. T. COLERIDGE, ESQ.
We pledged our hearts, my love and I,
I in my arms the maiden clasping ;
But oh! I trembled like an aspen.
Her father's love she bade me gain ;
I went and shook like any reed !
We had exchanged our hearts indeed.
BY THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ.
0, thou ! by whose expressive art
Her perfect image Nature sees In union with the Graces, start,
And sweeter by reflection please! In whose creative hand the hues
Stolen from yon orient rainbow shine ! I bless thee, Promethēan Muse,
And hail thee brightest of the Nine!
Possessing more than mortal power !
Persuasive more than poet's tongue ! Whose lineage in a raptured hour,
From Love, the lord of Nature, sprung! Does Hope her high possession meet ?
Is joy triumphant,-sorrow flown? Sweet is the trance, the tremour sweet,
When all we love is all our own.
But hush, thou pulse of pleasure dear ;
Slow, throbbing, cold, I feel thee part; Lone absence plants a pang severe,
Or death inflicts a keener dart; Then for a beam of joy, to light
In Memory's sad and wakeful eye; To banish from the noon of night
Her dreams of deeper agony.
Shall song its witching cadence roll ;
Yea, even the tenderest air repeat, That breathed when soul was knit to soul,
And heart to heart responsive beat ; What visions rise to charm, to melt!
The lost, the loved, the dead are near; Oh, hush that strain too deeply felt,
And cease that solace too severe.
But thou serenely silent art,
By heaven and love both taught to lend A milder solace to the heart
The sacred image of a friend; All is not lost if yet possest
For me that sweet memorial shine, If close and closer to my breast
I hold the image all divine.
Or gazing through luxuriant tears,
Melt over the departed form,
With life, and speech, and spirit warm ;
Her bright eye seems a purer gem Than sparkles on the throne of power,
Or Glory's starry diadem.
Yes, Genius, yes! thy mimic aid
A treasure to my soul has given, When Beauty's canonized shade
Smiles through the sainted hues of heaven. No spectre form of pleasure fled,
Thy softening, sweetening tints restore; For thou canst give us back the dead,
Even in the loveliest garb she wore.
Then blest be Nature's guardian muse,
Whose hand her polished grace redeems ; Whose tablet of a thousand hues
The mirror of creation seems; From Love began thy high descent ;
And lovers charmed with gifts of thine, Shall bless thee,-mutely eloquent,
And hail thee brightest of the NINE ! Literary Gazette.
BY JAMES MONTGOMERY, ESQ.
Night is the time for rest ;
How sweet when labours close,
The curtain of repose;
Night is the time for dreams;
The gay romance of life,
Blend in fantastic strife;
Night is the time for toil ;
To plough the classic field,
Its wealthy furrows yield;
Night is the time to weep;
To wet with unseen tears
The joys of other years !
Night is the time to watch ;
On ocean's dark expanse ; To hail the Peliades, or catch
The full moon's earliest glance, That brings into the home-sick mind All we have loved and left behind.