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Haply thy Muse, as with unceasing sighs
She keeps late vigils on her urn reclin❜d,
May see light groups of pleasing visions rise,
And phantoms glide, but of celestial kind.
Then Fame, her clarion pendent at her side,

Shall seek forgiveness of Ophelia's shade;
'Why has such worth, without distinction died?
Why, like the desert's lily, bloom'd to fade?'
Then young Simplicity, averse to feign,

Shall unmolested breathe her softest sigh; And candour with unwonted warmth complain, And innocence indulge a wailful cry. Then Elegance, with coy judicious hand,

Shall cull fresh flowrets for Ophelia's tomb; And beauty chide the Fates' severe command, That show'd the frailty of so fair a bloom! And Fancy then, with wild ungovern'd woe, Shall her lov'd pupil's native taste explain; For mournful sable all her hues forego,

And ask sweet solace of the Muse in vain! Ah! gentle forms! expect no fond relief:

Too much the sacred Nine their loss deplore: Well may ye grieve, nor find an end of griefYour best, your brightest, favourite is no more.

E 2

HE COMPARES THE TURBULENCE OF LOVE WITH THE TRANQUILLITY OF FRIENDSHIP.

TO MELISSA, HIS FRIEND.

FROM Love, from angry Love's inclement reign
I pass a while to Friendship's equal skies;
Thou, generous Maid! reliev'st my partial pain,
And cheer'st the victim of another's eyes.
'Tis thou, Melissa, thou deserv'st my care;
How can my will and reason disagree?
How can my passion live beneath despair?
How can my bosom sigh for aught but thee?
Ah, dear Melissa! pleas'd with thee to rove,
My soul has yet surviv'd its dearest time;
Ill can I bear the various clime of Love;

Love is a pleasing but a various clime.
So smiles immortal Maro's favourite shore,
Parthenope, with every verdure crown'd;
When straight Vesuvio's horrid caldrons roar,
And the dry vapour blasts the regions round.
Oh, blissful regions! oh, unrivall❜d plains!

When Maro to these fragrant haunts retir'd: Oh, fatal realms! and, oh, accurs'd domains! When Pliny mid sulphureous clouds expir'd. So smiles the surface of the treacherous main, As o'er its waves the peaceful halcyons play, When soon rude winds their wonted rule regain, And sky and ocean mingle in the fray.

But let or air contend or ocean rave;

Ev'n Hope subside, amid the billows tost; Hope, still emergent, still contemns the wave, And not a feature's wonted smile is lost.

TO A LADY,

ON THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS.

COME then, Dione, let us range the grove,
The science of the feather'd choirs explore,
Hear linnets argue, larks descant of love,
And blame the gloom of solitude no more.
My doubt subsides-'tis no Italian song,

Nor senseless ditty cheers the vernal tree:
Ah! who that hears Dione's tuneful tongue
Shall doubt that music may with sense agree?
And come, my Muse! that lov'st the silvan shade,
Evolve the mazes, and the mist dispel;
Translate the song; convince my doubting maid
No solemn dervise can explain so well.—

Pensive beneath the twilight shades I sate,

The slave of hopeless vows and cold disdain! When Philomel address'd his mournful mate, And thus I construed the mellifluent strain:'Sing on, my bird!—the liquid notes prolong, At every note a lover sheds his tear;

Sing on, my bird!-'tis Damon hears thy song,
Nor doubt to gain applause when lovers hear.
He the sad source of our complaining knows,
A foe to Tereus and to lawless love!
He mourns the story of our ancient woes;

Ah, could our music his complaint remove!
'Yon plains are govern'd by a peerless maid;
And see! pale Cynthia mounts the vaulted sky,
A train of lovers court the chequer❜d shade;
Sing on, my bird! and hear thy mate's reply.

'Erewhile no shepherd to these woods retir'd,
No lover bless'd the glow-worm's pallid ray;
But ill-star'd birds that, listening, not admir'd,
Or listening, envied our superior lay.

'Cheer'd by the sun, the vassals of his pow'r,

Let such by day unite their jarring strains; But let us choose the calm, the silent hour, Nor want fit audience while Dione reigns.'

HE DESCRIBES HIS VISION

TO AN ACQUAINTANCE.

Cætera per terras omnes animalia, &c.
All animals beside, o'er all the earth, &c.

Virg.

ON distant heaths, beneath autumnal skies,
Pensive I saw the circling shade descend;
Weary and faint I heard the storm arise,
While the sun vanish'd like a faithless friend.
No kind companion led my steps aright;
No friendly planet lent its glimmering ray;
Ev'n the lone cot refus'd its wonted light,
Where Toil in peaceful slumber clos'd the day.
Then the dull bell had given a pleasing sound;
The village cur 'twere transport then to hear;
In dreadful silence all was hush'd around,

While the rude storm alone distress'd mine ear.
As led by Orwell's winding banks I stray'd,
Where towering Wolsey breath'd his native air,
A sudden lustre chas'd the flitting shade,

The sounding winds were hush'd, and all was fair.

Instant a grateful form appear'd confess'd;

White were his locks, with awful scarlet crown'd; And livelier far than Tyrian seem'd his vest,

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That with the glowing purple ting'd the ground. Stranger, (he said) amid this pealing rain,

Benighted, lonesome, whither wouldst thou stray? Does wealth or power thy weary step constrain ? Reveal thy wish, and let me point the way. 'For know, I trod the trophied paths of pow'r, Felt every joy that fair Ambition brings, And left the lonely roof of yonder bow'r To stand beneath the canopies of kings. 'I bade low hinds the towering ardour share, Nor meanly rose to bless myself alone; I snatch'd the shepherd from his fleecy care, And bade his wholesome dictate guard the throne. 'Low at my feet the suppliant peer I saw;

I saw proud empires my decision wait; My will was duty, and my word was law,

My smile was transport, and my frown was fate.' Ah me! (said I) nor power I seek, nor gain; Nor urg'd by hope of fame these toils endure; A simple youth, that feels a lover's pain,

And from his friend's condolence hopes a cure, 'He, the dear youth! to whose abodes I roam, Nor can mine honours nor my fields extend; Yet for his sake I leave my distant home,

Which oaks embosom, and which hills defend. 'Beneath that home I scorn the wintry wind; The Spring, to shade me, robes her fairest tree; And if a friend my grass-grown threshold find, O how my lonely cot resounds with glee!

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