And what avail'd, ye nymphs, your converse kind Chasing the listless yawn from letter'd ease; What, those sweet tones, that so entranc'd my mind?

Ah! what thy smiles my Julia! like the breeze That whispers o'er the sleep of summer seas [wing--When halcyon skims the expanse with emerald

Smiles, which the turbulence of wrath appease, To cheering light the spleen-dark spirit bring, [sting? And heal the festering wound, that rues affliction's

And lo, the maid! who far from Isca roves
Where sister-waves with Tavy's stream unité,

Whose melodies inspire the secret groves;
Whose innocence and candor, vestal-white,
Live in the lustre of their native light;
Whose polisht manners might a court adorn;
The radiance of whose eyes beam heavenly-bright;
Whose blush, of sweet-retiring meekness born,
Glows, like the crimsoning sky, that mantles to the

morn!

Alas! the joys of youth, of health are o'er!

And I am sunk with trembling frame too low To feel the charm of social pleasure more--

To breathe ecstatic ardors mid the flow

Of harmony! Alas! too well I know The faintings of disease, to bid the plume Instinct with all the poet's vivid glow Waft me where visionary beauties bloom, Riot in fields of bliss, and disappoint the tomb!

O! since my gaudier expectations fail,

Here shelter'd, may I heave a few fond sighs: And, as the wounded dove o'er hill and dale To her own nest on flagging pinion flies, Languish amidst domestic sympathies, Sooth'd by these shades! Here, after many a blast Darkening the pale horizon of my skies--

Once more be mine, ere yet I breathe my last, In holy silence husht, to muse o'er all the past!

Be mine, in every little trivial link

That holds me here, to mark the Almighty Power; And, whilst the ideas fair (that seem'd to sink

In wintry darkness) rise, and round my bower Break the 'dull gloom, as spring renews the flower;

O may I bless the Being, that bestow'd

Such simple aid to cheer the drooping hour; And view, if Virtue light this calm abode,

The path to that pure heaven, where saints behold their God!

END OF THE POEM.

N. Michell, Printer, Truro.

CHIEFLY,

THE LOCAL ATTACHMENT;

THE UNSEX'D FEMALES;

THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN;

THE PNEUMATIC REVELLERS;

AND

THE FAMILY PICTURE.

BY MR. POLWHELE,

OF POLWHELE.

IN FIVE VOLUMES.

Vol. II. The Unsex'd Females, &c.

TRURO:

Printed by J. Michell and Co. 8, High Cross,

FOR MESSRS. RIVINGTONS, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH YARD,

LONDON.