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A

A N ELEGY.

BY THE REV. MR. GERRARD.

N o'ergrown wood my wandering fteps invade, With furface mantled in untrodden fnow; Dire haunt for none but favage monfters made, Where frofts defcend, and howling tempests blow.

Here, from the fearch of bufy mortals stray'd,
My woe-worn foul shall hug her galling chain :
For fure, no forest boasts too deep a fhade,
No haunt too wild, for misery to remain.

O my Aminta! dear distracting name!

Late all my comfort, all my fond delight; Still writhes my foul beneath it's torturing flame, Still thy pale image fills my aching fight!

When shall vain Memory flumber o'er her woes?
When to oblivion be her tale refign'd?
When fhall this fatal form in death repofe,
Like thine, fair victim, to the duft confign'd?

Again the accents faulter on my tongue;
Again, to tear the confcious tear fucceeds;
From fharp reflection is the dagger fprung,
And Nature, wounded to the centre, bleeds.

Ye bitter fkies! upon the tale defcend;

Ye blafts, tho' rude your visits, lend an ear; Around, ye gentler oaks, your branches bend; And, as ye liften, drop an icy tear!

'Twas

"Twas when the step with conscious pleasure roves,

Where round the shades the circling woodbines throng; When Flora wantons o'er th' enamell'd groves,

And feather'd choirs indulge the amorous fong:

Infpir'd by duteous love, I fondly ftray'd,
Two milk-white doves officious to enfnare;
Beneath a filent thicket as they play'd,
A grateful prefent for my fofter fair.

But, ah! in fmiles no more they met my fight,
Their ruffled heads lay gasping on the ground:

Where my dire emblem!-a rapacious kite

Tore their soft limbs, and strew'd their plumes around.

The tear of pity stole into my eye;

While ruder paffions in their turn fucceed;

Forbid the victims unreveng'd to die,

And doom the author of their wrongs to bleed.

With hafty step, enrag'd, I homewards ran;

Curfe on my fpeed! th' unerring tube I brought;
That fatal hour my date of woe began,
Too sharp to tell, too horrible for thought!

Difaft'rous deed! irrevocable ill!

How fhall I tell the anguish of my fate! Teach me, remorseless monsters, not to feel, Inftruct me, fiends and furies, to relate!

Wrathful behind the guilty fhade I ftole,

I rais'd the tube-the clamorous woods refound

Too late I saw the idol of my foul,

Struck by my aim, fall fhrieking to the ground!

No

No other blifs her foul allow'd but me;
(Hapless the pair that thus indulgent prove!)
She fought concealment from a fhady tree,
In amorous filence to obferve her love.

I ran; but O! too foon I found it true!

From her ftain'd breast life's crimson ftream'd apace ;
From her wan eyes the fparkling luftres flew;
The fhort-liv'd rofes faded from her face!

Gods! could I bear that fond reproachful look,
That ftrove her peerless innocence to plead !
But partial death awhile her tongue forfook,

To fave a wretch that doom'd himself to bleed.

While I, distracted, prefs'd her in my arms,
And fondly ftrove t' imbibe her latest breath;
O fpare, rafh love!' fhe cry'd,thy fatal charms,
Nor feek cold fhelter in the arms of death.

6

Content beneath thy erring hand I die!

Our fates grew envious of a bliss so true; Then urge not thy diftrefs when low I lie, But in this breath receive my laft adieu!'

No more she spake, but droop'd her lily head!
In death the ficken'd-breathlefs-haggard-paie!
While all my inmost foul with horror bled,

And ask'd kind vengeance from the paffing gale.

Where flept your bolts, ye lingering lightnings fay!
Why riv'd ye not this felf-condemned breast!

Or why, too paffive Earth, didst thou delay!
To ftretch thy jaws, and crush me into rest?

Low

Low in the duft the beauteous corse I plac❜d,
Bedew'd and foft with many a falling tear;
With fable yew the rifing turf I grac❜d,

And bade the cypress mourn in filence near.

Oft as bright morn's all-fearching eye returns,
Full to my view the fatal fpot is brought;
Thro' fleepless night my haunted fpirit mourns,
No gloom can hide me from diftracting thought.

.

When, fpotlefs victim, fhall my form deca y !
This guilty load, fay, when fhall I refign!
When shall my spirit wing her chearless way,
And my cold corfe lie treasur'd up with thine!

THE

AFRICAN PRINCE,

IN ENGLAND, TO ZARA AT HIS FATHER'S COURT,

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR M DCC XLIX.

BY DR. DODD.

PRINCES, my fair, unfortunately great,

Born to the pompous vaffalage of state, Whene'er the publick calls, are doom'd to fly Domestick blifs, and break the private tie

;

Fame pays with empty breath the toils they bear,
And Love's foft joys are chang'd for glorious care
Yet conscious Virtue, in the filent hour,
Rewards the hero with a noble dow'r :

For this alone I dar'd the roaring fea,

Yet more—for this I dar'd to part with thee!
But while my bofom feels the nobler flame,
Still unreprov'd, it owns thy gentler claim,

Tho

Tho' Virtue's awful form my
foul approves,
'Tis thine, thine only, Zara, that it loves!
A private lot had made the claim but one,
The prince alone must love for virtue shun.
Ah! why distinguish'd from the happier crowd,
To me the blifs of millions difallow'd?
Why was I fingled for imperial fway,

Since love and duty point a different way?

Fix'd the dread voyage, and the day decreed,
When, duty's victim, love was doom'd to bleed;
Too well my mem'ry can these scenes renew,
We met to figh, to weep our laft adieu.

That confcious palm, beneath whofe tow'ring fhade
So oft our vows of mutual love were made;
Where hope fo oft anticipated joy,

And plann'd, of future years, the best employ ;
That palm was witness to the tears we shed,
When that fond hope, and all those joys were fled.
Thy trembling lips, with trembling lips I prefs'd,
And held thee panting to my panting breast:
Our forrow, grown too mighty to fuftain,
Now fnatch'd us, fainting, from the fenfe of pain.
Together finking in the trance divine,

I caught thy fleeting foul, and gave thee mine!
O blefs'd oblivion of tormenting care!

O why recall'd to life and to defpair!

The dreadful fummons came, to part-and why?
Why not the kinder fummons, but to die?
To die together, were to part no more,
To land in fafety on fome peaceful fhore,
Where love's the bufinefs of immortal life,
And happy fpirits only guefs at ftrife.

as Zara kind-✨

If in fome diftant land my prince should find Some nymph more fair,' you cry'd, Mysterious doubt! which could at once impart Relief to mine, and anguifh to thy heart.

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