Once did I shine among the great, And once was number'd with the gay; Now grandeur leaves me to my fate, Nor knows, nor pities, my decay. No anxious eye on mine attends Each rising wish to watch with care; And whither now are fled those friends, Who sought me young, who lov'd me fair! Thus blooms the lily priz'd by all, While summer suns as yet prevail; And there neglected does it fall Before the rude and chilling gale. No more it claims the virgin's care, No more her fond protection proves, No more the shepherd may compare, This fallen flow'r with her he loves. Then ruthless on its faded form, That I so flourish'd, and so fell, These tears, these sighs, these lines attest: Thus much may pale repentance tellHide, blushing virtue, hide the rest. ODE TO JEHOVAH. FROM THE HEBREW OF MOSES. IN high Jehovah's praise, my strain Our father's God, thy name we raise Far, in the caverns of the deep, Their chariots sunk to rise no more, What lambent lightenings round thee gleam, The flames, in undulations blue: And lo the waters of the deep Swell in one enormous heap, Collected at thy nostrils breath: The bosom of the abyss reveal'd, Wall'd with huge chrystal waves, congeal'd, Yawns hideous as the gate of death. "Swift steeds of Egypt, speed your course, "And swift, ye scythed chariots, roll; "Not Ocean's bed impedes our force, "Red vengeance soon shall glut our soul; "Soon shall the sabre sharp embrue "Its glimmering edge in gory dew."Impatient cried the exulting foe; When, ponderous as a mass of lead, But THOU, in whose sublime abode But far as Fame's shrill notes resound, The petrifying tale disarms The might of Canaan's countless swarms; Nor burning sands our course invade, Low in the deep's unfathomed caves, The warrior's rest, of Mazur's land, H. The memory of the wonderful event, which this Hebrew Ode commemorates, according to Diodorus, was long preserved by tradition among the natives of the African shore of the Red Sea. The ancient Hebrew, or rather Arabic names, of different mountains or passes on the African and Arabian shores of that sea, are still retained with little variation. THE JOY OF GRIEF." OSSIAN. SWEET the hour of tribulation, When the heart can freely sigh, And the tear of resignation Have you felt a kind emotion Tremble thro' your troubled breast, Soft as Evening o'er the ocean, When she charms the waves to rest? Have you lost a friend, a brother? Gazed upon a lifeless mother, Till she seem'd to wake from death? Have you felt a spouse expiring Did not grief then grow romantic, Yes!--but when you bad resign'd her, |