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Pomposus fills his magisterial chair;

Yet a few years, one general wreck will whelm Pomposus governs,--but, my muse, forbear:

The faint remembrance of our fairy realm. Contempt, in silence, be the pedant's lot;

Dear honest race, though now we meet no more, His name and precepts be alike forgot;

One last long look on what we were before No more his mention shall my verse degrade,

Our first kind greetings, and our last adieuTo him my tribute is already paid.

Drew tears from eyes unused to weep with you. High, thro' those elms with hoary branches crown'd, Through splendid circles, fashion's gaudy world, Fair Ida's bower adorns the landscape round;

Where folly's glaring standard waves unfurld, There Science, from her favour'd seat, surveys

I plunged to drown in noise my fond regret, The vale where rural Nature claims her praise;

And all I sought or hoped was to forget. To her awhile resigns her, youthful train,

Vain wish! if chance some well-remember'd face, Who move in joy, and dance along the plain;

Some old companion of my early race, In scatter'd groups each favour'd haunt pursue;

Advanced to claim his friend with honest joy, Repeat old pastimes, and discover new;

My eyes, my heart proclaim'd me still a bay; Flush'd with his rays, beneath the noontide sun,

The glittering scene, the fluttering groups around, In rival bands between the wickets run,

Were quite forgotten when my friend was found; Drive o'er the sward the ball with active force,

The smiles of beauty-(for, alas! I've known Or chase with nimble feet its rapid course.

What 't is to bend before Love's mighty throne)But these with slower steps direct their way

The smiles of beauty, though those smiles were deu Where Brent's cool waves in limpid currents stray ;

Could hardly charm me when that friend was near While yonder few search out some green retreat,

My thoughts bewilderd in the fond surprise,

The woods of Ida danced before my eyes;
And arbours shade them from the summer heat:
Others again, a pert and lively crew,

I saw the sprightly wanderers pour along,
Some rough and thoughtless stranger placed in view,

I saw and join'd again the joyous throng; With frolic quaint their antic jests expose,

Panting, again I traced her lofty grove,

And friendship's feelings triumph'd over love.
And tease the grumbling rustic as he goes;
Nor rest with this, but many a passing fray

Yet why should I alone with such delight
Tradition treasures for a future day:

Retrace the circuit of my former flight? " 'Twas here the gather'd swains for vengeance fought, Is there no cause beyond the common claim And here we earn'd the conquest dearly bought;

Endeard to all in childhood's very name? Here have we fled before superior might,

Ah! sure some stronger impulse vibrates here, And here renew'd the wild tumultuous fight."

Which whispers friendship will be doubly dear

To one who thus for kindred hearts must roam, While thus our souls with early passions swell,

And seek abroad the love denied at home.
In lingering tones resounds the distant bell;
Th' allotted hour of daily sport is o'er,

Those hearts, dear Ida, have I found in thee

A home, a world, a paradise to me. And Learning beckons from her temple's door.

Stern death forbade my orphan youth to share No splendid tablets grace her simple hall,

The tender guidance of a father's care: But ruder records fill the dusky wall;

Can rank, or e'en a guardian's name, supply There, deeply carved, behold! each tyro's name

The love which glistens in a father's eye? Secures its owner's academic fame;

For this can wealth or title's sound atone, Here mingling view the names of sire and son

Made by a parent's early loss my own ? The one long graved, the other just begun;

What brother springs a brother's love to seek? These shall survive alike when son and sire

What sister's gentle Lies has prest my cheek 3 Beneath one common stroke of fate expire:

For me how dull the vacant moments rise, Perhaps their last memorial these alone,

To no fond bosom link'd by kindred ties! Denied in death a monumental stone,

Ont in the progr-99 of some fleeting dream Whilst to the gale in mournful cadence wave Fraternal smils collected round me seem; The sighing weeds that hide their nameless grave While still the visions to my heart are prest, And here my name, and many an early friend's, The voice of love will murmur in my rest: Along the wall in lengthen'd line extends.

I hear-I wake--and in the sound rejoice; Though still our deeds amuse the youthful race, I hear again—but ah! no brother's voice. Who tread our steps, and fill our former place, A hermit, 'midst of crowds, I fain must strat Who young obey'd their lords in silent awe,

Alone, though thousand pilgrims fill the way: Whose nod commanded, and whose voice was law, While these a thousand kindred wreatb, anime, And now in turn possess the reing of power, I cannot call one single blossom Ivine: To rule the little tyrants of an hour;

What then remains ? in solitude to emua, Though sometimes with the tales of ancient day To mix in friendship or to sigh alone ? They pass the dreary winter's eve away

Thus must I cling to some endearing hand, “ And thus our former rulers stemm'd the tide,

And none more dear than Ida's social band. And thus they dealt the combat side by side; Jusi ir ihis piace the mouldering walls they scaled,

Alonzo! best and dearest of my friends, Nor bolts uor bars against their strength avail'd;

Thy name ennobles him who thus commends; Here I'robus came, the rising fray to quell,

From this fond tribute thou canst gain no praiso,

The praise is his who now that tribute pays And here he falter'd forth his last farewell; And here one night abroad they dared to roam,

Oh! in the promise of thy early youth, While bold Pomposus bravely stay'd at home;" —

If hope anticipate the words of truth, While this they speak, the hour must soon arrive,

Some loftier bard shall sing thy glorious name, Wluin names of these, like ours, alone survive

To build bis own upon thy deathless faune.

Friend of my heart, and foremost of the list
Of those with whom I lived supremely blest,
ont have we draind the font of ancient lore;
Though drinking deeply, thirsting still the more.
Yet when confinement's lingering hour was done,
Our sports, our studies, and our souls were one:
Sogether we impell'd the flying ball;
Together waited in our tutor's hall;
Together join'd in cricket's manly toil,
Or shared the produce of the river's spoil;
Or plunging from the green declining shore,
Our pliant limbs the buoyant billows bore;
In every element, unchanged, the same,
All, all that brothers should be but the name.

Nor yet are you forgot, my jocund boy! Davus, the harbinger of childish joy; For ever foremost in the ranks of fun, The laughing herald of the harmless pun; Yet with a breast of such materials madeAnxious to please, of pleasing half afraid; Candid and liberal, with a heart of steel In danger's path, though not untaught to feel. Still I remember in the factious strife The rustic's musket aim'd against my life: High poised in air the massy weapon hung, A cry of horror burst from every tongue; Whilst I, in combat with another foe, Fought on, unconscious of th' impending blow; Your arm, brave boy, arrested his careerForward you sprung, insensible to fear; Disarm’d and baffled by your conquering hand, The grovelling savage roll'd upon the sand: An act like this can simple thanks repay ? Or all the labours of a grateful lay? Oh no! whene'er my breast forgets the deed, That instant, Davos, it deserves to bleed.

Lycus! on me thy claims are justly great: Thy milder virtues could my muse relate, To thee alone, unrivallid, would belong The feeble efforts of my lengthen'd song. Well canst thou boast to lead in senates fitA Spartan firmness with Athenian wit: Though yet in embryo these perfections shine, Lycus! thy father's fame will soon be thine. Where learning nurtures the superior mind, What raay we hope from genius thus refined! When time at length matures thy growing years, How wilt thou tower above thy fellow peers! Prudence and sense, a spirit bold and free, With honour's soul, united beam in thee.

Shall fair EURYALUS pass by unsung? From ancient lineage, not unworthy, sprung: What though one sad dissention bade us part, That name is yet embalm'd within my heart; Yet at the mention does that heart rebound, And palpitate responsive to the sound. Envy dissolved onr ties, and not our will: We once were friends, -I'll think we are so still, A form unmatch'd in nature's partial mould, A heart untainted, we in thee behold: Yet not the senate's thunder thou shalt wield. Nor seek for glory in the lented field; To minds of ruder texture these be givenThy soul shall nearer soar its native heaven. Haply in polish'd courts might be thy seat, But that thy tongue could never forge deceit; The courtier's supple bow and sneering smile, The flow of compliment, the slippery wile,

Would make that breast with indignation burn,
And all the glittering snares to tempt thee spurn.
Domestic happiness will stamp thy fate;
Sacred to love, unclouded e'er by hate;
The world admire thee, and thy friends adore;
Ambition's slave alone would toil for more.

Now last, but nearest of the social band,
See honest, open, generous Cleon stand;
With scarce one speck to cloud the pleasing scene.
No vice degrades that purest soul serene.
On the same day our studious race begun,
On the same day our studious race was run;
Thus side by side we pass'd our first career,
Thus side by side we strove for many a year;
At last concluded our scholastic life,
We neither conquer'd in the classic strife;
As speakers each supports an equal name,
And crowds allow to each a partial fame:
To soothe a youthfnl rival's early pride,
Though Cleon's candour would the palm divide,
Yet andour's self compels me now to own
Justice awards it to my friend alone.

Oh! friends regretted, scenes for ever dear, Remembrance hails you with her warmest tear! Drooping, she bends o'er pensive Fancy's urn, To trace the hours which never can return; Yet with the retrospection loves to dwell, Aud soothe the sorrows of her last farewell! Yet greets the triumph of my boyish mind, As infant laurels round my head were twined When Probus' praise repaid my lyric song, Or placed me higher in the studious throng, Or when my first barangue received applause, His sage instruction the primeval cause, What gratitude to him my soul possest, While hope of dawning honours fill'd my breast ! For all my humble fame, to bim alone The praise is due, who made that fame my own. Oh! could I soar above these feeble lays, These young effusions of my early days, To him my muse her noblest strain would give: The song might perish, but the theme must live. Yet why for him the needless verse essay ? His honourd name requires no vain display: By every son of grateful Ida blest, It finds an echo in each youthful breast; A faine beyond the glories of the proud, Or all the plaudits of the venal crowd.

Ida, not yet exhausted is the theme, Nor closed the progress of my youthful dream. How many a friend deserves the grateful strain, What scenes of childhood still insung remain! Yet let me hush this echo of the past, This parting song, the dearest and the last; And brood in secret o'er those hours of joy, To me a silent and a sweet employ. But thou my generous youth, whose tender years Are near my own, whose worth my heart reveren Henceforth affection sweetly thus begun, Shall join our bosoms and our souls in one; Without thy aid, no glory shall be mine; Without thy dear advice, no great design; Alike through life esteem'd, thou godlike boy, In war my bulwark, and in peace my joy."

To him Euryalus "No day shall shame The rising glories which from this I claim Fortune may favour, or the skies may frown But valour, spite of fate, obtains renown.

Yet, ere from hence our eager steps depart,

But he, who thus foretold the fate of all, One boon I beg, the nearest to my heart:

Could not avert his own untimely fall.
My mother, sprung from Priam's royal line, Next Remus' armour-bearer hapless fell,
Like thine ennobled, hardly less divine,

And three unhappy slaves the carbage swell:
Nor Troy nor king Acestes' realms restrain The charioteer along his courser's sides
Her feeble age from dangere of the main ;

Expires, the steel his sever'd neck divides;
Alone she came, all selfish fears above,

And, last, his lord is number'd with the dead: A bright example of maternal love.

Bounding convulsive, flies the gasping head: Unknown the secret enterprise I brave,

From the swoll'n veins the blackening torrents pour. Lest grief should bend my parent to the grave;

Stain'd is the couch and earth with clotting gore. From this alone no fond adieus I seek,

Young Lamyrus and Lamus next expire, No fainting mother's lips have press'd my cheek; And gay Serranus, fill'd with youthful fire: By gloomy night and thy right hand I vow

Half the long night in childish games was pasad;
Her parting tears would shake my purpose now: Lulld by the potent grape, he slept at last :
Do thou, my prince, her failing age sustain, Ah! happier far had be the morn survey'd,
In thee her much-loved child may live again;

And till Aurora's dawn his skill display'd.
Her dying hours with pious conduct bless,
Assist her wants, relieve her fond distress.

In slaughter'd folds, the keepers lost in sleep.

His hungry fangs a lion thus may steep; So dear a hope must all my soul inflame,

'Mid the sad flock, at dead of night, he prowls, To rise in glory, or to fa!l in fame."

With murder glutted, and in carnage rolls : Struck with a filial care so deeply felt,

Insatiate still, through teeming herds he roams; In tears at once the Trojan warriors melt:

In seas of gore the lordly tyrant foams. Faster than all, Iulus' eyes o'erflow; Such love was his, and such had been his woe. Nor less the other's deadly vengeance came, " All thou hast ask'd, receive," the prince replied; But falls on feeble crowds without a name: * Nor this alone, but many a gift beside.

His wound unconscious Fadus scarce can feel, To cheer thy mother's years shall be my aim, Yet wakeful Rhæsus sees the threatening steel. Creusa's* style but wanting to the dame.

His coward breast behind a jar he hides, Fortune an adverse wayward course may run, And vainly in the weak defence confides; But bless'd thy mother in so dear a son.

Full in his heart, the falchion search'd his veins, Now, by my life!--my sire's most sacred oath

The reeking weapon bears alternate stains; To thee I pledge my full, my firmest troth,

Through wine and blood, commingling as they for All the rewards which once to thee were vow'd,

One feeble spirit seeks the shades below. If thou shouldst fall, on her shall be bestow'd." Now where Messapus dwelt they bend their way, Thus spoke the weeping prince, then forth to view Whose fire emits a faint and trembling ray: A gleaming falchion from the sheath he drew; There, unconfind, behold each grazing steed, Lycaon's utmost skill had graced the steel,

Unwatch'd, unheeded, on the herbage feed: For friends to envy and for foes to feel ;

Brave Nisus here arrests his comrade's arm, A tawny hide, the Moorish lion's spoil,

Too flush'd with carnage, and with conquest warmSlain 'mid the forest, in the hunter's toil,

“ Hence let us haste, the dangerous path is pass'd; Mnestheus to guard the elder youth bestows,

Full foes enough lo-night have breathed their last And old Alethes' casque defends his brows.

Soon will the day those eastern clouds adorn;
Arm'd thence they go, while all th' assembled train, Now let us speed, nor tempt the rising morn."
To aid their cause, implore the gods in vain.
More than a boy, in wisdom and in grace,

What silver arms, with various art embossid, Iulus holds amid the chiefs his place:

What bowls and mantles in confusion tossed, His prayer he sends; but what can prayers avail, They leave regardless! yet one glittering prize Lost in the murmurs of the sighing gale!

Attracts the younger hero's wandering eyes;

The gilded harness Rhamnes' coursers felt, The trench is pass'd, and, favour'd by the night,

The gems which slud the monarch's golden belt Through sleeping foes they wheel their wary flight.

This from the pallid corse was quickly torn, When shall the sleep of many a foe be o'er ?

Once by a line of former chieftains worn. Alas! some slumber who shall wake no more!

Th' exulting boy the studded girdle wears, Chariots and bridles, mix'd with arms, are seen;

Messapus' helm his head in triumph bears; And flowing flasks, and scatter'd troops between:

Then from the tents their cautious steps they bend, Bacchus and Mars to rule the camp combine;

To seek the vale where safer paths extend.
A mingled chaos this of war and wine.
“Now," cries the first, "for deeds of blood prepare, Just at this hour a band of Latian horse
With me the conquest and the labour share: To Turnus' camp pursue their destined course:
Here lies our path; lest any hand arise,

While the slow foot their tardy march delay,
Watch thou, while many a dreaming chieftain dies: The knights, impatient, spur along the way:
I'll carve our passage through the heedless foe, Three hundred mai)-clad men, by Volscens led,
And clear thy road with many a deadly blow."

To Turnus with their master's promise sped: His whispering accents then the youth repressid,

Now they approach the trench, and view the walls, And pierced proud Rhamnes through his panting breast: When, on the left, a light reflection falls; Stretch'd at his ease, th' incautious king reposed;

The plunder'd helmet, through the waning night, Debauch, and not fatigue, his eyes had closed :

Sheds forth a silver radiance, glancing bright. To Turnus dear, a prophet and a prince,

Volscens with question loud the pair alarms:Pis omens more than augur's skill evince ;

“Stand, stragglers! stand! why early thus in arus?

From whence, to whom ?”-He meets with no reply • Nie rother of fu'us, lost on the night when Troy was taken. Trusting the covert of the night, they fly;

The thicket's depth with hurried pace they tread, Or crimson poppy, sinking with the shower,
While round the wood the hostile squadron spread. Declining gently, falls a fading flower;
With brakes entangled, scarce a path between,

Thus, sweetly drooping, bends his lovely head,

And lingering beauty hovers round the dead.
Dreary and dark appears the sylvan scene:
Euryalus his heavy spoils impede,

But fiery Nisus stems the battle's tide,
The boughs and winding turns his steps mislead;

Revenge his leader, and despair his guide; But Nisus scours along the forest's maze

Volscens he seeks amid the gathering host, To where Latinus' steeds in safety graze,

Volscens must soon appease his comrade's ghost; Then backward o'er the plain his eyes extend,

Steel, flashing, pours on steel, foe crowds on foe On every side they seek his absent friend.

Rage nerves his arm, fate gleams in every blow; ** O God! my boy," he cries, “ of me bereft,

In vain beneath unnumber'd wounds he bleeds, In what impending perils art thou left !"

Nor wounds, nor death, distracted Nisus heeds; Listening he runs-above the waving trees,

In viewless circles wheel'd, his falchion flies, Tumultuous voices swell the passing breeze;

Nor quits the hero's grasp till Volscens dies; The war-cry rises, thundering hoofs around

Deep in his throat its end the weapon fouad, Wake the dark echoes of the trembling ground. The tyrant's soul Bed groaning through the wound. Again he turns, of footsteps hears the noise; Thus Nisus all his fond affection provedThe sound elates, the sight his hope destroys:

Dying, revenged the fate of him he loved; The hapless boy a ruffian train surround,

Then on his bosom sought his wonted place, While lengthening shades his weary way confound; And death was heavenly in his friend's embrace! Him with loud shouts the furious knights pursue, Celestial pair! if aught my verse can claim, Struggling in vain, a captive to the crew.

Wafted on Time's broad pinion, yours is fame! What can his friend 'gainst thronging numbers dare? | Ages on ages shall your fale admire, Ah! must he rush, his comrade's fate to share ? No future day shall see your names expire, What force, what aid, what stratagem essay, While stands the Capitol, immortal dome! Back to redeem the Latian spoiler's prey ?

And vanquish'd millions hail their empress, Rome! His life a votive ransom nobly give, Or die with him for whom he wish'd to live?

ANSWER TO A BEAUTIFUL POEM, WRITTEN Poising with strength his lifted lance on high,

BY MONTGOMERY, AUTHOR OF “THE WAN. On Luna's orb he casts bis frenzied eye:

DERER IN SWITZERLAND," &c. &c. ENTITLED "Goddess serene, transcending every star!

" THE COMMON LOT." Queen of the sky whose beams are seen afar!

1. By night heaven owns thy sway, by day the grove,

MONTGOMERY! true, the common lot When, as chaste Dian, here thou deign'st to rove;

of mortals lies in Lethe's wave; If e'er myself, or sire, have sought to grace

Yet some shall never be forgot-
Thine altars with the produce of the chase,

Some shall exist beyond the grave.
Speed, speed my dart to pierce yon vaunting crowd,
To free my friend, and scatter far the proud."

"Unknown the region of his birth,"
Thus having said, the hissing dart he flung;
Through parting shades the hurtling weapon sung;

The hero* rolls the tide of war;

Yet not unknown his martial worth,
The thirsty point in Sulmo's entrails lay,
Transfix'd his heart, and stretch'd him on the clay:

Which glares a meteor froin afar.

3. He sobs, he dies,-the troop in wild amaze, Unconscious whence the death, with horror gaze.

His joy or grief, his weal or woe, While pale they stare, through Tagus' temples riven,

Perchance may 'scape the page of fame; A second shaft with equal force is driven:

Yet nations now unborn will know Fierce Volscens rolls around his lowering eyes;

The record of his deathless name.

4. Veild by the night, secure the Trojan lies. Burning with wrath, he view'd his soldiers fall.

The patriot's and the poet's frame

Must share the common tomb of all: “Thou youth accurst, thy life shall pay for all !"

Their glory will not sleep the same; Quick from the sheath his flaming glaive he drew,

That will arise though empires fall. And, raging, on the boy defenceless flew.

5. Nisus no more the blackening shade conceals,

The lustre of a beauty's eye Forth, forth he starts, and all his love reveals;

Assumes the ghastly stare of death; Aghast, confused, his fears to madness rise,

The fair, the brave, the good must vie, And pour these accents, shrieking as he flies:

And sink the yawning gravo beneath. ** Me, me--your vengeance hurl on me alone;

6. Here sheathe the steel, my blood is all your own. Once more the speaking eye revives, Ye starry spheres! thou conscious Heaven! attest!

Still beaming through the lover's strain, He could not--durst not-lo! the guile confest!

For Petrarch's Laura still survives: All, all was mine,-his early fate suspend;

She died, but ne'er will die again. He only loved too well his hapless friend :

7. Bpare, spare, ye chiefs! from him your rage remove; The rolling seasons pass away, His fault was friendship, all his crime was love."

And Time, untiring, waves his wing; He pray'd in vain; the dark assassin's sword

Whilst honour's laurels ne'er decay, Pierced the fair side, the snowy bosom gored;

But bloom in fresh unfading spring. Lowly to earth inclives his plume-clad crest,

# No particular her is here alluded to. The exploits of Bayard, N. And sanguine torrents mantle o'er bis breast :

mours, Edward the Black Prince, and in more modern times the fame of Mart As some young rose, whose blossom scents the air, borough, Frederick the Great, Count Saxe, Charles of Sweden, &c. are famd

iar to every historical reader, but the exact places of their birth are known Languid in death, expires beneath the share;

a very small proportion of their admirers

Then why should I live in a hateful control ?

Why waste upon folly the days of my youth?

TO MISS CHAWORTH.

1. Ou! had my fate been join'd with thine,

As once this pledge appear'd a token, These follies had not then been mine,

For then my peace had not been broken.

8.
All, all must sleep in grim repose,

Collected in the silent tomb;
The old and young, with friends and foes,
Festering alike in shrouds, consume.

9.
The mouldering marble lasts its day,

Yet falls at length an useless fane;
To ruin's ruthless fangs a prey,
The wrecks of pillar'd pride remain.

10.
What though the sculpture be destroy'd,

From dark oblivion meant to guard?
A bright renown shall be enjoy'd
By those whose virtues claim reward.

11.
Then do not say the common lot

Of all lies deep in Lethe's wave; Some few who ne'er will be forgot Sball burst the bondage of the grave.

1806.

TO THE REV. J. T. BECHER.

1. DEAR Becher, you tell me to mix with mankind :

I cannot deny such a precept is wise ; But retirement accords with the tone of my mind : I will not descend to a world I despise.

2. Did the senate or camp my exertions require,

Ambition might prompt me, at once, to go forth; When infancy's years of probation expire, Perchance I may strive to distinguish my birth.

3. The fire in the cavern of Etna conceal'd

Still mantles unseen in its secret recess: At length in a volume terrific reveal'd, No torrent can quench it, no bounds can repress.

4. Oh! thus, the desire in my bosom for fame

Bids me live but to hope for posterity's praise. Could I soar with the ph@nix on pinions of flame, With him I would wish to expire in the blaze.

5. For the life of a Fox, of a Chatham the death, What censure, what danger, what woe would I

brave! Their lives did not end when they yielded their breath, Their glory illumines the gloom of their grave.

6. Yet why should I mingle in Fashion's full herd ?

Why crouch to her leaders, or cringe to her rules ? Why bend to the proud, or applaud the absurd ? Why search for delight in the friendship of fools?

7. I have tasted the sweets and the bitters of love;

In friendship I early was taught to believe; My passion the matrons of prudence reprove; I have found that a friend may profess, yet deceive.

8. To me what is wealth ? it may pass in an hour,

Il tyrants prevail, or if Fortune should-frown. To me what is title?-the phantom of power; To me what is fashion ?-I seek but renown.

9. Veceit 18 a stranger as yet to my soul,

I stil am unpractised to varnish the truth;

To thee these early faults I owe,

To thee, the wise and old renroving: They know my sins, but do not know 'Twas thine to break the bonds of loving.

3. For once my soul, like thine, was pure,

And all its rising fires could smother ; And now thy vows no more endure, Bestow'd by thee upon another.

4.
Perhaps his peace I could destroy,

And spoil the blisses that await him;
Yet let my rival smile in joy,
For thy dear sake I cannot hate him.

5.
Ah! since thy angel form is gone,

My heart no more can rest with any; But what it sought in thee alone, Attempts, alas, to find in many.

6. Then fare thee well, deceitful maid,

"Twere vain and fruitless to regret thee; Nor Hope, nor Memory, yield their aid, But Pride may teach me to forget thee.

7. Yet all this giddy waste of years,

This tiresome round of palling pleasures; These varied loves, these matron's fears, These thoughtless strains to Passion's measure

8. If thou wert mine, had all been hush'd

This cheek, now pale from early riot, With Passion's hectic ne'er had flushid, But bloom'd in calm domestic quiet.

9.
Yes, once the rural scene was sweet,

For Nature seem'd to sinile before thee;
And once my breast abhorr'd deceit,
For then it beat but to adore thee.

10.
But now I seek for other joys;

To think would drive my soul to madness; In thoughtless throngs and empty noise I conquer half my bosom's sadness.

11. Yet, even in these a thought will steal,

In spite of every vain endeavour; And fiends might pity what I feel,

To know that thou art lost for ever

REMEMBRANCE. 'Tis done!-I saw it in my dreams : No more with Hope the future beams;

My days of happiness are few: Chill'd by misfortune's wintry blast, My dawn of life is overcast,

Love, Hope, and Joy, alike adieu! Would I could add Remembrance too!

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