Bid mild Omiah bring his choicest stores,
The juicy fruits, and the luxuriant flow'rs;
Bring the bright plumes, that drink the torrid

ray,

And strew each lavish spoil on Cook's Morai!

Come Oberea, hapless fair one! come, With piercing shrieks bewail thy hero's doom! She comes!--she gazes round with dire survey! Oh! fly the mourner on her frantic way. See! see! the pointed ivory wounds that head Where late the Loves impurpl'd roses spread; Now stain'd with gore, her raven-tresses flow, In ruthless negligence of mad'ning woe;

Loud she laments!-and long the nymph shall stray,

With wild unequal step round Cook's Morai!

But ah!-aloft on Albion's rocky steep,

That frowns incumbent o'er the boiling deep,

Solicitous and sad, a softer form

Eyes the lone flood, and deprecates the storm.
Ill-fated matron!-for, alas! in vain ́·

Thy eager glances wander o'er the main !–
'Tis the vex'd billows, that insurgent rave,
Their white foam silvers yonder distant wave,
'Tis not his sails!-thy husband comes no more!
His bones now whiten an accursed shore!-
Retire, for hark! the sea-gull shrieking soars,
The lurid atmosphere portentous low'rs;
Night's sullen spirit groans in ev'ry gale,
And o'er the waters draws the darkling veil,
Sighs in thy hair, and chills thy throbbing breast,
Go, wretched mourner! weep thy griefs to rest!

Yet, tho' through life is lost each fond delight, Tho' set thy earthly sun in dreary night, Oh! raise thy thoughts to yonder starry plain, And own thy sorrow selfish, weak, and vain;

Since, while Britannia, to his virtues just,

Twines the bright wreath, and rears th' immortal bust;

While on each wind of heav'n his fame shall rise, In endless incense to the smiling skies;

THE ATTENDANT POWER, that bade his sails expand,

And waft her blessing to each barren land, Now raptur'd bears him to th' immortal plains, Where Mercy hails him with congenial strains, Where soars, on Joy's white plume, his spirit free,

And angels choir him, while he waits for THEE.

AN

ODE TO THE SUN.

I.

LORD of the Planets! in their course
Thro' the long tracts of never-ceasing day,
Who to their orbs, with matchless force,
Bendest their rapid, wild, reluctant way;
Tho' midst the vast and glitt'ring maże
Of countless worlds, that round thee blaze,

Small, dim, and cold, our little Earth appears,
Thy life-enkindling light she shares:

From the chill Pole's far-shining mountains frore,

To sandy Afric's sultry shore,

Wide o'er her plains thy living lustre stream,

In Lapland's long pale day, and swart Numi

dia's beam.

II.

For her, with delegated right,

Thy virgin-sister in thy absence shines,
Throws her soft robe of snowy light

O'er sullen Night's opake and shadowy shrines;
Thy watchful centinel, she reigns

Controller of the wat❜ry plains,

Onward her silver arm the Ocean guides,

Or dashes back the impetuous tides.

But thou, on the green wave's capacious bed, Hast light, and life, and gladness shed,

Thro' liquid mountains, as they roll,

Darting the beauteous beam, the vivifying soul.

III.

That paints the shell's meand'ring mould,

Or spots the twinkling fin with gold;