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HAPPINESS.

THE midnight moon ferenely finiles
O'er nature's foft repose;
No low'ring cloud obfcures the sky,
No ruffling tempeft blows.

Now ev'ry paffion finks to reft,
The throbbing heart lies ftill;
And varying fchemes of life no more
Distract the lab'ring will.

In filence hush'd, to REASON'S voice
Attends each mental pow'r:
Come, dear EMILIA, and enjoy eni
Reflection's fav'rite hour.

Come! while the peaceful scene invites,
Let's fearch this ample round,
Where shall the lovely fleeting form
OF HAPPINESS be found?

Does it amidst the frolic mirth
Of gay affemblies dwell?
Or, hide beneath the folemn gloom,
That shades the hermit's cell.

How oft the laughing brow of JOY
A fick'ning heart conceals!
And through the cloister's deep recess,
Invading SORROW steals.

In vain through beauty, fortune, wit,
The fugitive we trace;
It dwells not in the faithless smile,
That brightens CLODIO'S face.
Perhaps the joy to these deny'd,
The heart in FRIENDSHIP finds;
Ah! dear delufion, gay conceit,
Of vis'onary minds!

R

Howe'er our varying notions rove,
Yet all agree in one,
To place its being in fome state
At distance from our own.
O blind to each indulgent aim,
Of pow'r fupremely wife;
Who fancy HAPPINESS in ought
The hand of heav'n denies!

Vain is alike the joy we feek,
And vain what we poffess,
Unless harmonious REASON tunes
The paffions into peace.
To temper'd wishes, just desires,
IS HAPPINESS confin'd;
And, deaf to FOLLY's call, attends
The mufic of the mind.

THE DRUM.

I HATE that DRUM's discordant found, Parading round, and round, and round: To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields, And lures from cities and from fields, To fell their liberty for charms Of tawdry lace, and glitt'ring arms; And when AMBITION'S voice commands, To march, and fight, and fall, in foreign lands. I hate that DRUM'S difcordant found, Parading round, and round, and round: To me it talks of ravag'd plains, And burning towns, and ruin'd swains, And mangled limbs, and dying groans, And WIDOWS' tears, and ORPHANS' moans; And all that mis'ry's hand bestows,

To fill the catalogue of human woes.

ODE TO MORNING.

HAIL to thy living light,

Ambrofial MORN! all hail thy rofeate ray!

That bids gay nature all her charms difplay

In varied beauty bright!

That bids each dewy-spangled flow'ret rife,
And dart around its vermeil eyes;
Bids filver luftre grace yon' sparkling tide,
That winding warbles down the mountain's fide.

Away, ye goblins all!

Wont the bewilder'd traveller to daunt;
Whose vagrant feet have trac'd your fecret haunt
Befide fome lonely wall,

Or fhatter'd ruin of a mofs-grown tow'r,
Where, at pale midnight's stilleft hour,
Through each rough chink the folemn orb of night
Pours momentary gleams of trembling light.

Away, ye elves, away!

Shrink at ambrofial morning's living ray :

That living ray, whose pow'r benign

Unfolds the scene of glory to our eye,
Where, thron'd in artless majefty,
The cherub beauty fits on nature's ruftic shrine.

JOHN AND JOAN.

NO plate had JOHN and JOAN to hoard,
Plain folk, in humble plight;
One only tankard crown'd their board,
And that was fill'd each night.
Along whose inner bottom sketch'd,
In pride of chubby grace,
Some rude engraver's hand had etch'd
A baby angel's face.

JOHN fwallow'd first a mod'rate fup;
But JOAN was not like JOHN;
For when her lips once touch'd the cup,
She fwill'd till all was gone.

JOHN often urg'd her to drink fair,
But the ne'er chang'd a jot;
She lov'd to fee the angel there,
And therefore drain'd the pot.
When JOHN found all remonstrance vain,
Another card he play'd,
And, where the angel stood so plain,
He got a devil pourtrayed.
JOAN faw the horns, JOAN-faw the tail,
Yet JOAN as stoutly quaff'd!
And ever, when she seiz'd her ale,
She clear'd it at a draught.
JOHN star'd, with wonder petrify'd,
His hairs rose on his pate;
And "why doft guzzle now" he cry'd,
"At this enormous rate?""

O JOHN!' faid she, 'am I to blame?
I can't in confcience stop:
For fure 'twould be a burning fhame
To leave the devil a drop!"

ΕΡΙΤΑΡΗ ON MISS CAMPBELL.

OPENSIVE passenger! do not refuse

To pause awhile, and weep upon this tomb,
For here the cold remains of CAMPBELL lie,
This narrow spot, the vernal maiden's doom.
Yes! she was gentle as the twilight breeze,
Which o'er the fainting violet's bosom blows;
Patient the bow'd beneath the stroke of death,
In faded semblance of the filver rofe.

And oft low bending o'er this hallow'd tomb,
Shall the pure angel INNOCENCE appear;
And FRIENDSHIP, like an hermit, shall be found
To bathe the circling fod with many a tear.

THE THREE SISTERS.

FRE SATURN's fons were yet disgrac'd, And heathen gods were all the tafte, Full oft (we read) 'twas JOVE'S high will To take an air on IDA's hill.

It chanc'd, as once with ferious ken He view'd from thence the ways of men, He faw (and pity touch'd his breast) The world by three foul fiends poffeft: Pale DISCORD there, and FOLLY vain, With haggard VICE, upheld their reign. Then forth he fent his fummons high, And call'd a fenate of the sky. Round as the winged orders preft, pre JOVE thus his facred mind expreft: "Say! which of all this shining train "Will VIRTUE'S conflict hard fuftain? "For fee! the drooping takes her flight, "While not a god fupports her right." He paus'd-when from amidst the iky, WIT, INNOCENCE, and HARMONY, With one united zeal arose, The tripple tyrants to oppofe. That inftant from the realms of day, With gen'rous speed, they took their way; TO BRITAIN'S ifle direct their car, And enter'd with the ev'ning star.

Befide the road a mansion stood,

Defended by a circling wood:
Hither, disguis'd, their steps they bend,
In hopes, perchance, to find a friend :
Nor vain their hope, for records fay,
WORTH ne'er from thence was turn'd away.
They urge the trav'ller's common chance,
And ev'ry pit'ous plea advance:
The artful tale that wIt had feign'd,
Admittance, eafy, foon obtain'd.

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