Yet Charlotte's tears shall soothe thy hov'ring shade,
Her faithful obsequies be fondly paid;

Warm from her heart each pious incense given,
To win forgiveness from the Throne of Heaven,
While Pity's off'rings shall thy grave adorn,
And teach the tender and the good to mourn.
Recording Friendship still shall love thy name,
And veil the hapless deed which wounds thy fame.
E'en Albert's self will breathe a generous sigh,
Nor chide the tear which clouds his Charlotte's eye.
While o'er this turf shall weeping Mercy bend,
To consecrate the sod which wraps his friend.
The cypress grove thy Charlotte's hand shall plant,
Nor shall this spot one verdant honour want.
Favonius oft upon his viewless wing

To this green shrine collected sweets shall bring;
And infant breezes in a mournful gale,
For Werter's fate shall sigh along the vale.

THE ROSE AND BEE.

A ROSE just op'ning to the day,
In prime of youth and beauty gay,
Gave her rich essence to the gale,
And bloom'd the fav'rite of the vale.

Attracted by her balmy breast,
A neighbouring Bee her charms confest;
Through clouded hours or sunny skies
To her with faithful wing he flies.

For

For her, forsook the thymy glade,
Nor with the honey'd woodbine staid.
Prais'd her soft leaves with modest truth,
And vow'd to guard her heedless youth.-
The lovely Flower allowed his claim,
And blush'd approval of his flame.

One morning, absent from her side
On plans important to his tribe,
A Butterfly essay'd his art

To lure her eye and charm her heart :
Proud of his form, the gaudy thing
Spreads to the sun his spangled wing;
In airy circles round her flew,
At distance first-then bolder grew;
Humm'd flattering nonsense in her ear,
Which Flowers as well as Belles will hear
Swore none could e'er deserve her charms
Who strayed one moment from her arms;
And said, ""Tis strange, 'twixt you and me,
"You listen to that plodding Bee-
"An insect so devoid of grace,

"Uncouth in figure as in face:

"We wonder much, my blooming friend,
"To sweets like yours he dare pretend.
"Forbid him then thy glowing eye ;
"And see a thousand conquests nigh."

The silly Rose at first would chide,
Yet heard his praise with conscious pride;
And still would lend a willing ear
Whene'er the giddy fop was near;

Till with his form enamour'd grown,
Her Bee no more she deign'd to own;
And, lost to truth, soon let him know
Her heart's election was the Beau.

The generous Bee forbore reply, But view'd with scorn her tinsel Fly; In pity saw his lovely Flow'r

Doom'd to repent this faithless hour,

And only wish'd, "she might not prove, "A coxcomb's heart was born to rove."

Prediction true! Ere ev'ning's close
The Insect left his yielding Rose;
To seek new conquests gaily flies,
Unheedful of her perfum'd sighs;
On each new Bud a smile bestows,
And hints the goodness of his Rose;
Who, withering on the parent tree,
Repentant mourn'd her injur'd Bee.

POEMS

POEMS

BY

DOCTOR WALCOTT.