May virtue, sense, and learning, ever find
A constant mansion in your cultur'd mind!
And while life's fairest honours you acquire,
And realize cach Parent's fond desire,
May this well fill'd permit you to impart
Each free effusion of a lib'ral heart!

POEMS

ADVERTISEMENT.

THERE is, in every sense of the words, a natural connection between the preceding Communications of the truly ingenious Laureat, and the subsequent Effusions of his Daughter; whose talents and virtues are hereditary. Part of the following Poems are from a small and elegant Collection, printed at a private Press, merely for dispersion amongst a limited eircle, and may therefore be considered in great measure as original.

ADDRESSED

ADDRESSED TO JOHN PENN, ESQ.

WITH THE AUTHOR'S POEMS.

Go! humble Lays, go, and with truth impart
The secret sufferings of a sorrowing Heart;
Tell how in silent anguish long I griev'd,
Tell with what woes this hapless bosom heav'd,
Till, by the aid of Friendship's potent balm,
My troubled Soul enjoys its present calm,

MAD SONG,

WITH downcast eye, and solemn pace,
Poor Ellen wanders o'er the plain,
Her locks unbound, and pale her face;
Sad victim to Love's slighted pain!

Lost are her Wits, her Reason, lost:
No tear she sheds, no word she speaks:
Deceiv'd by him she trusted most,

With silent grief her sad heart breaks.

Warm was her heart for others' grief,
Though now in icy fetters bound;
And if a sufferer sought relief,

Pity in Ellen's breast was found,

Her

Her eyes, which once, with brightest beam,
Expressive shone on all around,

Are fix'd on vacancy; or gleam,

With phrensied torpor, on the ground.

Her voice, whose soft and dulcet sound
Charm'd ev'ry ear with pure delight,

Is now in death-like silence bound,
And sunk in never-ending night.

This wreck of Genius, Worth, and Grace,
Ah! faithless Man, draw near and see;
Nought can her Senses e'er replace,

Victim to Sorrow, Love, and Thee.

TO MISFORTUNE.

O! THERE's a charm in that dejected eye;
O! there's more danger in that deep-drawn sigh
Than in the playful wiles of sportive Wit,
When happy Laughter and the Graces sit
Thron'd with gay Pleasure on the brow of Youth;
O! there's more peril in Misfortune's sigh,
More to be dreaded from the tearful eye

Telling the Sufferer's misery with truth.—

When sunshine round the head of Affluence flings.
Its rays, it every idle insect brings,

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