North and south, east and west, tho' we diversely go,
Those bonds of Affection and Nature shall glow:

Tho' form'd of young roses, they're stronger than steel,
And brighter than gems all the mines can reveal;
In our bosoms the rivets are fix'd to remain,

For, though distance extends, it ne'er weakens the chain;
Each Sister's a link, wheresoe'er her retreat,
And our Parent the centre at which we all meet.

THE TWO SOPHIAS;

OR, THE

INNOCENT ELOPERS.

BOTH Mother and Daughter gone off with a man!
And boarding and bedding a part of the plan!
But as Father and Husband approve of the fray,
The Scandalous World can have nothing to say.
Your time has no doubt pass'd both merry and hearty,
Since Cupid and Hymen were both of the party;
And when such brisk travellers journey together,
They may keep themselves warm in despite of cold weather.
White Favors, Cockades, flaming Torches and Darts,
And Mortals and Gods fed with bride-cake-in Hearts:

'Twas enough to make all the beholders regret,
As the carriage pass'd by, they were not of your set.
For myself I must own, altho' trips of that sort
When time has knoll'd fifty they're not a man's forte,
I wish it had been my good fortune to ride,
Pack'd up in a corner, near Bridegroom and Bride:

Yet

Yet not for the world to take other folks' places,
But purely to look at two happy young faces;
And if there's a feast for the heart of Bard Pratt
More rich than another, I'll swear it is that;
And Critics and Snarlers may say what they will,
I know better than they the delights that I feel.

Now, though I'm too late in your Jaunt to take part,
I still may pour forth the soft pray'r of my heart-
That the Gods who went with you may greet your returning,
Cupid's Quiver be full, Hymen's Torch be still burning;
And when you and their Godships shall no longer roam,
Like yourselves may they find in your dwelling a HOME!

ON ACCIDENTALLY SEEING A FATHER TAKE LEAVE OF AN ONLY SON.

TO MR. WHATELEY.

O THOU of few but smiling years,
Who fill'st a parent's eyes with tears;
Tears of sweet hope and tender joy,
And trembling love for thee his Boy!
O it is fitting thou shouldst know

For thee alone those heart-drops flow;

* Of Grafton-street, no less distinguished for professional skill than for the gentleness with which he exercises an art that demands the union of firmness and humanity.

And as they bathe a Father's eyes,
'Tis Heav'n itself the stream supplies.

Think then, ah think that Fathers feel
More than the fondest tears reveal;
Think that Affection bids them start,
And that their Fountain is the Heart;
Think that they fall, lest thou shouldst stray
From filial Virtue's path away:

Who greatly love must greatly fear,
And both united form the Tear;
It agitates, yet gives relief,

At once the cause and cure of grief.

A parting treasure thou, dear youth,
Of thy poor Mother's love and truth;
Who perish'd as she gave thee breath,-
A legacy, alas! in death;

One precious gem brought safe to shore,

When life's rude storms would spare no more;
And, should that precious gem be tost
By those rude storms till it be lost,
Think how complete a wreck were there,
And think how vast thy Sire's despair!

Ah then how deep the source of tears,
How justified a father's fears!

Yet all those fears shall groundless prove
In a dear Son's observant love.
Thy blooming health, ingenuous child,
Thy pleasures pure, affections mild;
Sense which derives from mirth a charm,
And truth conducting fancy warm,

Shall

Shall give to that now trembling Sire
All that a Parent can desire!

And all these duties thou shalt twine
Around thy Angel Mother's shrine;
And make her, in her seraph state,
Enraptur'd view her Husband's fate
As oft from Heav'n she sees her Boy
Deserving all a Father's joy!
And if that joy, too great to bear,
Should still demand a tender tear,
O meet it with a holy kiss,

For 't is the sweet excess of bliss.

WRITTEN IN THE EMPTY HOUSE OF A FRIEND, ON

THE FAMILY QUITTING TOWN.

WHILE gleams the moon-light on the naked walls,
Pale Fancy in her shroud seems flitting by,
And mourning Mem'ry many a scene recalls,
And all the passing shadows seem to sigh,

As from their graves, and this their spot belov'd,
The Ghosts of buried Happiness appear;

Spectres of Joys entomb'd, or far remov❜d,
While Friendship views them with a tender tear.

Yet Hope still rises to disperse the gloom,

And gently bids her new-born sunbeams play; Whispers that fond Affection still shall bloom, And the Heart follows where she leads the way.

IVY COTTAGE.

WRITTEN IN THE DEPTH OF WINTER, WHILE ON A

VISIT TO MR. AND MRS. MACGEOrge.

IN yonder modest Cot, with Ivy bound,
Full many a pleasing theme has Friendship found.
Around the pictur'd rooms the eye regales
On mimic mountains, and on painted vales :
On these the barren suns appear to glow;
On those to ripen fruitful fields below.
Kings, queens, and princes, deck the storied walls
Here floats a wreck, and there a ruin falls.
And, though stern Winter chills the earth, we see
Frost hangs his spangled pictures on each tree;-
Fantastic forms-amusing to the view,

Chaste to the chisel, to the pencil true:
Some airy frolic, or some quaint device,
Lovers in frost-work, buxom dames in ice;
Hoar monks congealing on the bending bough,
And hooded nuns all freezing in their vow;
And damsels petrified, as frail as fair,
Their virgin whiteness form'd, alas! of air—
Of fleeting air-for Sol's first amorous ray
Full soon shall melt the yielding maids away:
A second beam, more warm, shall instant draw
The crystal convent to a general thaw.
These charms without :-within each guest can tell
That Love and Friendship in this Cottage dwell;

That