Imatges de pàgina
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"Ah, luckless train! ah, fate-devoted race; “The dreadful tale, experience tells, believe; "Dark heavy mifts obfcure the morning's face, "But blood and death fhall close the dreary eve.

"This day, fell man, whofe unrelenting hate
"No grief can foften, and no tears affwage;
"Pours dire deftruction on the feather'd ftate,
"Whilft pride and rapine urge his savage rage.

"I, who so oft have 'fcap'd th'impending fnare,
"Ere night arrives may feel the fiery wound;
"In giddy circles quit the realms of air,
"And ftain with ftreaming gore the dewy ground."

She faid; when lo! the pointer winds his prey,
The ruffling ftubble gives the fear'd alarm;
The gunner views the covey fleet away,
And rears th' unerring tube with skilful arm.

In vain the mother wings her whirring flight,
The leaden deaths arreft her as fhe flies;
Her scatter'd offspring fwim before her fight,
And, bath'd in blood, fhe flutters, pants, and dies.

H. P.

THE

THE SCULL'S ADDRESS,

ON BEING LOOKED ON.

WHY start! this case will yours be very foon,

In fome few years, perhaps the coming moon,
Life, at its utmost length, is scarce a breath,
And those who longeft dream, muft wake in death.
Like you, I once thought ev'ry blifs fecure,
And gold of ev'ry ill the certain cure;
Till plung'd in forrow, and befieg'd with pain,
Too late I found all earthly riches vain.
Disease made fruitlefs quite the fordid fee,
And death still answer'd," What is gold to me?"
Fame, titles, honours, next I vainly fought,
And fools, obfequious, nurs'd each childish thought,
Elate with brib'd applause, and purchas'd praise,
'I built on endless grandeur, endless days;
Till death awoke me from my dream of pride,
And laid a prouder beggar by my fide.
Pleasure I courted, and indulg'd my taste,
The banquet fmil'd, and fmil'd the gay repast.
A loathfome carcafe was my only care,

And worlds were ranfack'd but for me to fhare.
Go on, vain man! to luxury be firm,
Yet know I feafted but to feast a worm.

Already

Already fure lefs terrible I seem,

And like me, shall own that life's a dream.

you,

Farewell! remember! nor my words despise,

"The only happy are the early wife.”

INCOG.

THE EASY CHAIR.

COME, thou indulgent friend to foft repose, Whether with crimfon, green, or yellow lin'd;

Come with thy downy lap, and let's embrace
While thus fupine I fink into thy arms :

When man can't faunter thro' the filent grove,
Or under fhade to tufted trees, alone

Indulge in folitude his weary hours

;

When chilling damps, or winter's nipping froft, Denies access to filent hawthorn bow'rs:

Oh grant him heav'n! grant him your next best gift,

The soft, reclining, gentle, eafy chair:
There if by gambol, or in jocund dance,
Or if by fkating o'er the frozen ftream
(Health breeding exercise) he chance to tire,
There, brisk activity gives up her sway,
And yields dominion to all-powerful ease.
Hail fmiling eafe! philofophy's great pride,

Mother

Mother of meditation, and the nurse
Of all the tribes in sportive fancy's train.
Without thy care great Newton ne'er had found
The laws of nature, or difcover'd worlds.
Hail cheerful ruler of the mental pow'rs!

Here now accept a vot'ry at thy fhrine,
And cheer with fmiles a wearied fon of care.

C. B.

[The following well-imagined and affecting elegy, was written by a young gentleman of fashion, upon the lofs of a most amiable wife.]

AN ELEGY.

In every varied pofture, place, and hour,
How widow'd every thought of every joy !
Thought, bufy thought, too busy for my peace!
Strays, wretched rover! o'er the pleafing PAST;
In queft of wretchedness perverfly ftrays;
And finds all defart now.

IN

YOUNG.

N Burton's favourite groves, alas, how chang'd By Charlotte's death! oft let me devious rove Indulging grief; where glad fome once I rang'd, In fweet fociety with peace and love.

Oft

Oft in the filent evening, all alone,

When folemn twilight fhades the face of day, The plaintive mufe fhall hither waft her moan; With tendereft paffion here infpire my lay.

Thefe hours, allotted to that mufe's hand,
To latest time thy memory fhall endear;
While foft ideas rife at her command,

And in luxurious forrow prompt the tear.

Recall, foft fame of gentleness and love!
That calm, which triumph'd o'er thy parting
breath;

That blooming texture by the graces wove :
-And are those eyes for ever fet in death?

One more-and then-farewell! one lingering view

Tore

my fond foul from all it held fo dear: 'Twas o'er!-farewell-my joys: fweet hope,

adieu !

-Adieu, my love!-we part for ever here:

No! in the ftill of night, my reftless thought Pursues thy image thro' its change unknown; Steals oft unnotic'd to the dreary vault,

And in that vale of forrow pours my own:

For,

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