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O come, in simple vest array'd,
To bless my longing sight;
And chaste subdued delight.
To find thy hermit cell;
The modest virtues dwell.
And clear undaunted eye ;
A vista to the sky.
There Health, through whose calm bosom glide
That rarely ebb or flow;
To meet the offer'd blow.
Her influence taught the Phrygian sage
With settled smiles to meet :
And kiss'd thy sainted feet.
Or pierced some fond unguarded heart
The potent sounds like lightning dart
Daughters of Jove, receive the child,"
Ah, luckless hour! mistaken maids,
But thou, O nymph retired and coy! In what brown hamlet dost thou joy
To tell thy tender tale ? The lowliest children of the ground, Moss-rose, and violet blossom round,
And lily of the vale. O say what sofi propitious hour I best may chvose to hail thy power,
And court thy gentle sway ? When Autumn friendly to the muse, Shall thy own modest tints diffuse,
And shed thy milder day.
When Eve, her dewy star beneath,
And every storm is laid ;-
Low whispering through the shade.
THE ORIGIN OF SONG-WRITING."
Illic indocto primum se exercuit arcu ;
When Cupid, wanton boy! was young,
* Addressed to the Author of Essays on Song.writing.
The earth's fair bosom ; while the streaming veil
Protects thy modest blooms
Sweet is thy reign, but short :-The red dog-star
Thy greens, thy flowerets all,
And wash'd with tears, the mournful verse
Reluctant shall I bid thee then farewell ;
Nor Summer's ruddiest fruits,
Can aught for thee atone.
Each joy and new-born hope
AN ADDRESS TO THE DEITY.
ODE TO SPRING.
God of my life! and Author of my days!
Permit my feeble voice to lisp thy praise ; Sweet daughter of a rough and stormy sire, And trembling, take upon a mortal tongue lloar Winter's blooming child; delightful Spring! That hallowed name, to harps of seraphs sung. Whose unshorn locks with leaves
Yet here the brightest seraphs could no more And swelling buds are crown'd;
Than veil their faces, tremble, and adore.
Worms, angels, men, in every different sphere, From the green islands of eternal youth,Crown'd with fresh blooms and ever springing All nature faints beneath the mighty name,
Are equal all,- for all are nothing here. shade, Turn, hither turn thy step,
Which nature's works through all their parts
proclaim. O thou, whose powerful voice
I feel that name my inmost thoughts control, More sweet than softest touch of Doric reed,
And breathe an awful stillness through my soul; Or Lydian fluie, can sooth the madding wind, As by a charın, the waves of grief subside; And through the stormy deep
Impetuous Passion stops her headlong tide : Breathe thine own tender calm.
At thy felt presence all emotions cease,
And my hush'd spirit finds a sudden peace, Thee, best beloved! the virgin train await
Till every worldly thought within me dies, With songs and festal rites, and joy to rove
And earth's gay pageants vanish from my eyes ; Thy blooming wilds among,
Till all my sense is lost in infinite, And vales and Jewy lawns,
And one vast object fills my aching sight. With untired feet; and cull thy earliest sweets
But soon, alas! this holy calm is broke; To weave fresh garlands for the glowing brow
My soul submits to wear her wonted yoke ; Of him, the favoured youth
With shackled pinions strives to soar in vain, That prompts their whisper'd sigh.
And mingles with the dross of earth again.
But he, our gracious Master, kind as just, l’nlock thy copious stores,—those tender showers Knowing our frame, remembers man is dust, That drop their sweetness on the infant buds ; His spirit, ever brooding o'er our mind, And silent dews that swell
Sees the first wish to betier hopes inclined; The milky ear's green slem,
Marks the young dawn of every virtuous aim,
And fans the smoking Rax into a flame.
He reads the language of a silent tear,
And sighs are incense from a heart sincere. Salute the blowing flowers.
Such are the vows, the sacrifice I give; Now let me sit beneath the whitening thorn,
Accept the vow, and bi ? the suppliant live : And mark thy spreading tints steal o'er the dale;
From each terrestrial bondage set me free; And watch with patient eye
Still every wish that centres not in thee; Thy fair unfolding charms.
Bid my fond hopes, my vain disquiets cease,
And point my path to everlasting peace.
When all is smiling, tranquil, and serene,
And vernal beauty paints the flattering scene
O teach me to elude each latent snare,
And dancing lustres, where the unsteady eye, And whisper to my sliding heart,-Beware! Restless and dazzled, wanders unconfined With caution let me hear the syren's voice, O'er all this field of glories ; spacious field, And doubtful, with a trembling heart, rejoice. And worthy of the Master: he, whose hand If friendless, in a vale of tears I stray,
With hieroglyphics elder than the Nile Where briars wound, and thorns perplex my way,
Inscribed the mystic tablet, hung on high Still let my steady soul thy goodness see,
To public gaze, and said, “ Adore, O man! And with strong confidence lay hold on thee; The finger of thy God." From what pure wells With equal eye my various lot receive,
Of milky light, what soft o'erflowing urn, Resign’d to die, or resolute to live;
Are all these lamps so fillid ? these friendly lamps Prepared to kiss the sceptre or the rod,
For ever streaming o'er the azure deep While God is seen in all, and all in God.
To point our path, and light us to our home. I read his awful name, emblazon'd high How soft they slide along their lucid spheres ! With golden letters on th' illumined sky;
And silent as the foot of Time, fulfil Nor less the mystic characters I see
Their destined courses : Nature's self is hush'd Wrought in each flower, inscribed in every tree ;
And, but a scatter'd leaf, which rustles through In every leaf that trembles to the breeze
The thick-wove foliage, not a sound is heard I hear the voice of God among the trees ;
To break the midnight air; though the raised ear, With thee in shady solitudes I walk,
Intensely listening, drinks in every breath. With thee in busy crowded cities talk;
How deep the silence, yet how loud the praise ! In every creature own thy forming power, But are they silent all? or is there not In each event thy providence adore.
A tongue in every star, that talks with man, Thy hopes shall animate my drooping soul, And woos him to be wise ? nor woos in vain : Thy precepts guide me, and thy fears control : This dead of midnight is the noon of thought, Thus shall I rest, unmoved by all alarms,
And Wisdom mounis her zenith with the stars. Secure within the temple of thine arms ;
At this still hour the self-collected soul
Of high descent, and more than mortal rank;
Which must burn on for ages, when the sun,-
Forgets his wonted journey through the east. With decent triumph, and a look serene;
Ye citadels of light, and seats of gods! Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
Perhaps my future home, from whence the soul, And having lived to Thee, in Thee to die. Revolving periods past, may oft look back
With recollected tenderness on all
Its deep-laid projects, and its strange events,
As on some fond and doating tale that sooth'd
Her infant hours–O be it lawful now
Approach your burning confines. Seized in The dazzled sight, but with mild maiden beams
thought, Of temper'd lustre court the cherish'd eye On Fancy's wild and roving wing I sail, To wander o'er their sphere; where hung aloft From the green borders of the peopleu Tarth, Dian's bright crescent, like a silver bow
And the pale Moon, her duteous fair attendant ; New strung in heaven, lists high its beamy horns From solitary Mars; from the vast orb Impatient for the night, and seems to push Of Jupiter, whose huge gigantic bulk Her brother down the sky. Fair Venus shines Dances in ether like the lightest leaf; E'en in the eye of day; with sweetest beam To the dim verge, the suburbs of the system, Propitious shines, and shakes a trembling flood Where cheerless Saturn midst his watery moons Of sofien'd radiance from her dewy locks. Girt with a lucid zone, in gloomy pomp, The shadows spread apace ; while meekend Eve, Sits like an exiled monarch : fearless thence Her cheek yet warm with blushes, slow retires I launch into the trackless deeps of space, Through the Hesperian gardens of the west, Where, burning round, ten thousand suns appear, And shuts the gates of day. "Tis now the hour Of elder beam, which ask no leave to shine When Contemplation from her sunless haunts, Of our terrestrial star, nor borrow light The cool damp grotto, or the lonely depth
From the proud regent of our scanty day ; Of unpierced woods, where wrapt in solid shade Sons of the morning, first-born of creation, She mused away the gaudy hours of noon, And only less than Him who marks their track, And sed on thoughts unripen’d by the sun, And guides their fiery wheels. Here must I stop, Moves forward ; and with radiant finger points Or is there aught beyond ? What hand unsee To yon blue concave swell'd by breath divine, Impels me onward through the glowing orbs Where, one by one, the living eyes of heaven Of habitable nature, far remote, Awake, quick kindling o'er the face of ether To the dread confines of eternal night, One boundless blaze : ten thousand trembling fires, I To solitudes of vast unpeopled space,
The deserts of creation, wide and wild;
WILLIAM. Where embryo systems and unkindled suns
John, faithful John, is with the horses come; Sleep in the womb of chaos ? fancy droops,
Mamma prevails, and I am sent for home.
Thrice happy whom such welcome tidings greet Invoke thy dread perfection?
Thrice happy who reviews his native seat! Have the broad eyelids of the morn beheld thee?
For him the matron spreads her candied hoard, Or does the beamy shoulder of Orion
And early strawberries crown the smiling board;
For him crush'd gooseberries with rich cream Support thy throne? 'O look with pity down On erring, guilty man! not in thy names
combine, Or terror clad: not with those thunders arm'd
And bending boughs their fragrant fruit resign:
Custards and sillabubs his taste invite;
Sports fill the day, and feasts prolong the night. That whispers comfort to the swelling heart
Think not I envy, I admire thy faie :t Abash'd, yet longing to behold her Maker.
Yet, ah! what different tasks thy comrades wait!
Some in the grammar's thorny maze to toil, But now my soul, unused 10 stretch her powers
Some with rude strokes the snowy paper soil, In flight so daring, drops her weary wing,
Some o'er barbaric climes in maps to roam, And seeks again the known accustom'd spot, Dresi up with sun, and shade, and lawns and Far from their mother-tongue, and dear loved
Harsh names of uncouth sound, their memories load, A mansion fair, and spacious for its guest,
And oft their shoulders feel th' unpleasant goad.
Doubt not our turn will come some future time. Shall stand unveiled, and to my ravished sense
Now, William, hear us twain contend in rhyme, Unlock the glories of the world unknown.
For yet thy horses have not eat their hay,
Then spout alternate, I consent to hear, si
Let no false rhyme offend my critic ear;-
But say, what prizes shall the victor hold ?
I guess your pockets are not lined with gold !
A ship these hands have built, in every part
Carved, rigg'd, and painted, with the nicest art; As conscious she had ill fulfill'd
The ridgy sides are black with pitchy store, The promise of the dawn.
From stem to stern 'tis twice ten inches o'er. Another morning soon shall rise,
The lofty mast, a straight smooth hazel framed, Another day salute our eyes,
The tackling silk, the Charming Sally named ; As smiling and as fair as she,
And,--but take heed lest ihou divulge the tale,
The lappet of my shirt supplied the sail,
An azure riband for a pendant flies :-
Now, if thy verse excel, be this the prize.
For me at home the careful housewives make,
The West its sweetness gives, the East its spice :
From soft lonian isles, well known to fame,
Ulysses once, the luscious currant came.
The green transparent citron Spain bestows, Hist, William! hist! what means that air so gay? And from her golden groves the orange glows. Thy looks, thy dress, bespeak some holyday : So vast the heaving mass, it scarce has room Thy hat is brush'd; thy hands, with wondrous Within the oven's dark capacious womb; pains,
'Twill be consign'd to the next carrier's care, Are cleansed from garden mould and inky stains; I cannot yield it all,—be half thy share. Thy glossy shoes confess the lackey's care ; And recent from the comb shines thy sleek hair. What god, what saint, this prodigy has wrought ?* • Fortunate senex, his inter flutnina nota. Declare the cause, and ease my labouring thought? Non equidem invideo, miror magis.
1 At nog hinc alii sitientes ibimus Afros,
Pars Scythiam, et rapidum Cretæ veniemus Oaxem. • Sed tamen, ille Deus qui sit, da Tityre nobis.
Well does the gift thy liquorish palate suit ;
WILLIAM I know who robb'd the orchard of its fruit.*
Cease! cease your carols, both! for lo the bell, When all were wrapt in sleep, one early morn,
With jarring notes, has rung out Pleasure's knell. While yet the dew-drop trembled on the thorn,
Your startled comrades, ere the game be done, I mark'd when o'er the quickset hedge you leapt, Quit their unfinish'd sports, and trembling run. And, sly, beneath the gooseberry bushes crept it
Haste to your forms before the master call! Then shook the trees; a shower of apples fell,
With thoughtful step he paces o'er the hall, And where the hoard you kept, I know full well;
Does with stern looks each playful loiterer greet, The mellow gooseberries did themselves produce, Counts with his eye, and marks each vacant seat: For through thy pocket oozed the viscous juice. Intense the buzzing murmur grows around, HARRY
Loud through the dome the usher's strokes resound:
Sneak off, and to your places slyly steal, I scorn a telltale, or I could declare
Before the prowess of his arm you feel.
WHAT DO THE FUTURES SPEAK OF? Had not our master supp'd abroad that night.
IN ANSWER TO A QUESTION IN THE GREEK GRAMMAR EDWARD. On the smooth whitewash'd ceiling near thy bed,
They speak of never-withering shades,
And bowers of opening joy ;
They promise mines of fairy gold,
And bliss without alloy
They whisper strange enchanting things
Within llope's greedy ears ;
And sure this tuneful voice exceeds
The music of the spheres
They speak of pleasure to the gay,
And wisdom to the wise ; And, whispering, saved the virgin from disgrace:
And soothe the poet's beating heart
With fame that never dies.
To virgins languishing in love,
They speak the minute nigh;
And warm consenting hearts they join,
And paint the rapture high.
In every language, every tongue,
The same kind things they say ; Or Parmesan excels a Suffolk cheese ;
In gentle slumbers speak by night,
In waking dreams by day.
Cassandra's fate reversed is theirs;
She, true, no faith could gain,
They, every passing hour deceive,
Yet are believed again.
THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN.
Yes, injured woman! rise, assert thy right!
Woman! too long degraded, scorn'd, opprest; O born 10 rule in partial Law's despite,
Resume thy native empire o'er the breast! Go forth array'd in panoply divine ;
That angel pureness which admits no stain,
And kiss the golden sceptre of thy reign
Of bright artillery glancing from afar;
Blushes and fears thy magazine of war.
Non ego, te vidi, Damonis
-Tu post carecla latebas, Lenta salix quantum pallenti cedit olivæ. $ Dic quibus in terris, et eris mihi magnus Apollo.