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His love grew desperate ; and defying death,
He made that cunning entrance I described,
And the young man escaped.


'Tis a sweet tale

And what became of him ?


He went on ship-board,
With those bold voyagers who made discovery
Of golden lands. Leoni's younger brother
Went likewise ; and when he returned to Spain,
He told Leoni, that the poor mad youth,
Soon after they arrived in that new world,
In spite of his dissuasion, seized a boat,
And, all alone, set sail by silent moonlight
Up a great river, great as any sea,
And ne'er was heard of more: but 'tis supposed
He lived and died among the savage men.




Away, those cloudy looks, that lab'ring sigh,

The peevish offspring of a sickly hour !

Nor meanly thus complain of Fortune's pow'r, When the blind gamester throws a luckless die.

Yon setting sun flashes a mournful gleam
Behind those broken clouds, his stormy train ;

To-morrow shall the many colour'd main
In brightness roll beneath his orient beam!

Wild, as th’ Autumnal gust, the hand of Time

Flies o'er his mystic lyre: in shadowy dance

Th' alternate groups of joy and grief advance Responsive to his varying strains sublime !

Bears on its wing each hour a load of fate.

The swain, who, lull’d by Seine's mild murmurs, led

His weary oxen to their nightly shed, To-day may rule a tempest-troubled state.

Nor shall not Fortune, with a vengeful smile,

Survey the sanguinary despot's might,

And haply hurl the pageant from his height, Unwept, to wander in some savage isle.

There shiv'ring sad, beneath the tempest's frown,

Round his tir'd limbs to wrap the purple vest;

And mix'd with nails and beads, an equal jest! Barter for food, the jewels of his crown.



Tho' much averse, dear Jack, to flicker,
To find a likeness for friend V- ker,
I've made, thro' earth, and air, and sea,
A voyage of discovery!

And let me add (to ward off strife)
For V- kers, and for V-ker's wife--
She large and round, beyond belief,
A superfluity of beef !
Her mind and body of a piece,
And both compos'd of kitchen-grease.
In short, dame Truth might safely dub her
Vulgarity enshrin'd in blubber !
He, meagre bit of littleness,
All snuff, and musk, and politesse ;
So thin, that strip him of his clothing,
He'd totter on the edge of nothing!
In case of foe, he well might hide
Snug in the collops of her side.
Ah then what simile will suit ?
Spindle leg in great jack-boot ?
Pismire crawling in a rut?
Or a spigot in a butt?
Thus I humm'd and ha'd awhile
When Madam Memory, with a smile,
Thus touch'd my ear—" Why sure, I ween
In London streets thou oft hast seen
The very image of this pair:
A little ape, with huge she bear
Link'd by hapless chain together :
An unlick'd mass the one-the other
An antic huge with nimble crupper
But stop, my Muse! for here comes supper.

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How long will ye round me be swelling,

O ye blue tumbling waves of the sea ? Not always in canes was my dwelling,

Nor beneath the cold blast of the tree. Thro' the high-sounding halls of Cathloma

In the steps of my beauty I stray'd ; The warriors beheld Ninathoma,

And they bless'd the white-bosom'd maid !

A ghost! by my cavern it darted !

In moon-beams the spirit was drestFor lonely appear the departed

When they visit the dreams of my rest! But disturb’d by the tempest's commotion,

Fleet the shadowy forms of delightAh cease, thou shrill blast of the ocean,

To howl thro' my cavern by night,



I sigh, fair injur'd stranger! for thy fate;

But what shall sighs avail thee? Thy poor heart, 'Mid all the “pomp and circumstance" of state,

Shivers in nakedness. Unbidden, start

Sad recollections of hope's gairish dream,

That shaped a seraph form, and nam'd it Love; It's hues gay-varying, as the orient beam

Varies the neck of Cytherea's dove.

To one soft accent of domestic joy,

Poor are the shouts that shake the high-arch'd dome; Those plaudits, that thy public path annoy,

Alas! they tell thee-Thou'rt a wretch at home!

O then retire, and weep! Their very woes

Solace the guiltless. Drop the pearly flood On thy sweet infant, as the full-blown rose,

Surcharg'd with dew, bends o'er its neighb'ring bud.

And ah! that Truth some holy spell might lend,

To lure thy wanderer from the syren's power; Then bid your souls inseparably blend,

Like two bright dew-drops meeting in a flower.



WHERE grac'd with many a classic spoil

Cam rolls his reverend stream along,
I haste to urge the learned toil

That sternly chides my love-lorn song.
Ah me! too mindful of the days
Illum'd by Passion's orient rays,

When peace with cheerfulness, and health
Enrich'd me with the best of wealth.

Ah, fair delights ! that o'er my soul

On mem'ry's wing, like shadows, fly!
Ah flowers ! which Joy from Eden stole,
While Innocence stood smiling by!-

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