ATTEMPTED IN THE SAME MANNER,
'Tis not the diamonde's costlie raye, Tho' bryghter than the starres above, Can fixe the eye,
The harte can buy,
That pure affection's tribute paye;
With gratefulle teare,
With sigh sincere,
That bende before thyne altarre, Love!
Stille let Sapphyra's harte be myne,
No other harte I seeke to move;
The tumulte loude
Of Pleasure's crowde
For her contented I
resygne:
No other mayde
Will I persuade
To bende before thyne altarre, Love!
Calmlie myne howres shall glyde alonge,
Her kyndnesse shall each care remove;
Her smile shall cheere
The tranquille yeare;
Whyle turnynge from the giddie thronge, Serenelie gaye,
We'll pass each daye,
And bende before thyne altarre, Love!
SAW the Spring her sweets unfold,
With dewy hands she wreath'd the bowers; She tipp'd the verdant meads with gold, And spread her sweet ambrosial flowers: O'er the fair scenes thus early drest,
A mournful glance distress'd I threw ; By sorrow thrill'd, my bounding breast, Lamented Anna prov'd untrue!
The lark with grateful joy elate,
Aloft would gleam on sunny wing;
And cheerly call his modest mate,
To hail the soft return of spring:
Each flower that put it's blossoms forth,
Begemm'd with soft pellucid dew,
Seem'd but to speak of former mirth;
Ere beauteous Anna prov'd untrue!
DIRECTIONS FOR A TEA VASE.
FRIEND BOLTON! take these ingots fine,
From rich Potosi's sparkling mine;
With your nice art a Tea Vase mould,
Your art! more valued than the gold!
And where proud Radbourne's turrets rise,
To bright Eliza send the prize.
I'll have no serpents round it kiss
The foaming wave, and seem to hiss ;
No Naiads weep, no Sphynxes stare,
No tail-hung Dolphins high in air.
Let wreathes of myrtle round the rim,
And twisting rose-buds form the brim.
Each side let woodbine stalks descend,
And form the handles as they bend;
While at the foot a Cupid stands,
And twines the wreathes with both his hands.
Perch'd on the rising lid above,
Oh! place a love-lorn turtle-dove,
With hanging wing, and ruffled plume,
And gasping beak, and eye of gloom.
Last, lest the swelling vases shine
With siver white, and burnish fine;
Bright as the font whose banks beside
Narcissus gaz'd, and lov'd, and died.
Vase! when Eliza deigns to pour
With snow-white hand thy boiling shower,
And sweetly talks, and smiles, and sips
Thy fragrant stream with ruby lips;
More charms thy polish'd front shall shew,
Than ever Titian's pencil drew;
More than his chisel soft unfurl'd,
Whose Heaven-wrought statue charms the world.
FIE, Damon, fie! no more pursue me,
But, if you love, avow your flame;
For, if you love, you'll ne'er undo me,
Nor trifle with my heart and fame,
In vain, fond youth, you thus implore me;
I see through your delusive feint,
That, while you swear how you adore me,
You'd make a sinner of a saint!
You, in soft strains and fond addresses,
Of me a deity have made;
And yet, with impious bold caresses,
Your goddess you would fain degrade.
But, till you bring a priest to bind me,
I, goddess-like, will bear the sway;
In hymen's bands you'll woman find me,
Then, Love and Damon I'll obey.
THE HAUNTING OF HAVARDUR.
SON of Angrym, warrior bold,
Stay thy travel o'er the wold;
Stop, Havardur, stop thy steed;
Thy death, thy bloody death's decreed.
She, Coronzon's lovely maid,
Whom thy wizzard wiles betray'd;
Glides along the darken'd coast,
A frantic, pale, unshrouded ghost.
Where the fisher dries his net,
Rebelling waves her body beat;
Seduc'd by thee, she toss'd her form
To the wild fury of the storm.
Know, thou feeble child of dust,
Odin's brave, and Odin's just;
From the Golden Hall I come
To pronounce thy fatal doom;
Never shalt thou pass the scull
Of rich metheglin deep and full:
Late I left the giant throng,
Yelling loud thy funeral song;
Imprecating deep and dread,
Curses on thy guilty head.
Soon, with Lok, thy tortur'd soul,
Must in boiling billows roll;
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