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Albion, soon thy poets free
Pour'd their soft stores of harmony;
And dancing in the verdant grove,
Fair Venus led the train os love j
Yellow Ceres o'er thy breast,
Smiling flung her wavy vest.
Here genial freedom six'd her feat.
Ruby-crested glory shone,
Resulgent near her facred throne,
Attendant on her state.
Then commerce blest thy silver strand,
And scatters plenty o'er the land: Dear, facred isle! ne'er (hall these honours die, for arts and arms renown'd, the land of liberty.
ODE TO THE RIPER CAM.
BY MR. (-.FORCE DYER.
[From the Annual Anthology for 1799.3
While yon rustic whistles gay. On thy hanks, oh! Cam, I lie,
Musesul pour the pensive lay.
Suits too well the thoughtsul breast;
Sorrow here might sigh to rest.
Near yon steeple's tapering height,
Beauteous Julia, thou art laid; 1 could linger through the night
Still to mourn thee, lovely maid! In yon garden fancy reads—
"Sophron strays no longer here," Then again my bosom bleeds:
Then I dtup Che silent tea;.
Hoary Cam, steal flow along:
Near yon desolated grove Sleep the partners of my long,
There with them I wont to rove. He, the youth of fairest fame,
Hasten.d to an early tomb— Friendship shall record his name,
Pity mourn his hapless doom.
Hark! I hear the death-bell found!
There's another spirit fled!
Philo slumbers with the dead.
Shakespeare's,name to him was dear; Kind and gentle was his heart,
Now again I drop a tear.
Bending sad beside thy stream,
While I heave the srequent sigh, Do thy rippling waters gleam,
Sympathetic murrh'ring by? Then, oh! Cam, will I return,
Hail thy soothing stream again, And as viewing Julia's urn,
Gratesul bless thee in my strain.
Still there are, who raptur'd view
Scenes, which youthsul hopes endear; Here they science still can woo,
Still they love to wander here. Peace they meet in every grove;
Lives again the rapturous song; Sweetly sportive still they rove,
Cam! thy sedgy banks along.
Stately streams, and glens, and lakcj,
They can leave to Scotia's plains, Mountains hoar, and vales, and brakis,
They resign to Cambrian swains. But these placid scenes sull well
Suit the quiet musing breast; Here, is fancy may not dwell,
Science shall delight to rest.
CALM'D is the roaring of the billowy main—
Freed by the potent sun's cnliv'ning ray,
Each scene to decorate with flow'iets gay,
ISo! at his magic touch, the primrose blows,
Amid the humid marsh the cowslip glows,
The garden now its stow'ry pride displays,
A spotless stole the snow-drop fair arrays,
And gay, in vernal charms, the shrubb'ry's seen,
The hawthorn blooms, the copse is clad with green,
Their matin hymns the larks now sing with glee,
And sweet the murmur of the busy bee,
High on the breezy downs, and on the plains,
Wildly melodious pipe the shepherd swains,
Wav'd by the gale there embryo harvests grow,
The glitt'ring rivers murmur as they stow,
The silent shade reflection now may seek,
As memory pictures deeds of childhood meek,
And mad ambition, whose ferocious breast
Throb'd with wild joy, when conquest crown'd hi» arms,
Amidst these tranquil scenes may love to rest,
Here modest beauty, from licentious gaze,
UnveiPd may wander peacesul thro' the grove:
And age rever'd, may spend his fragile days,
BY MRS. ROBINSOV.
H! cold neglect—more chilling far
The smiles of fame, the pride oftruth,
The noblest energies of youth—
Wit, valour, genius, science, taste;
A form by all that's lovely grae'd,
The spring of lise looks fresh and gay,
We think that ev'ry morn is May;
While hope and rapture sill the brejst,
We hold reflection's lore a jest,
Nor own that sorrow's shaft can wound,
Ah! then how sad the world appears!
How false, how idle are the gay! Morn only breaks to witness tears, And ev'ning closes but to shew That darkness mimics human woe,
And life's best scene, a summer's day
That shines and fades away.
Some dread disease, and others woe;
Some visionary torments fee; Some shrink unpitied love to know, Softie writhe beneath oppression'* fangs, And some with jealous hopeless pangs 3
But whatsoe'er my fate may be,
Oh! keep negleB from me 1
E'en after death let mem1ry's hand,
Directed by the moon-light ray, Weave o'er my grave a cypress-band, And bind the sod with curious care, And scatter flow'rets fresh and fair;
And oft the sacred tribute pay
To keep negleSl away!
i)LACID eve succeeds the day,