ELEGIAC STANZAS, BY THE LATE THOMAS DERMODY. To Pleasure's wiles an easy prey, O, stranger! if thy wayward lot Through Folly's heedless maze has led, For he, by this cold hillock clad, To soothe all sorrow but his own. For he, by tuneful Fancy rear'd, And gave a tear for every woe: O, place his dear harp by his side! The fairy breeze, at even-tide, Will, trembling, kiss each weeping chord. Oft on yon crested cliff he stood, And catch the deep wave's sullen sound. Oft, when the rosy dawn was seen, 'Mid blue, to gild the blushing steep, He marked, o'er yonder margent green, The curling cloud of fragrance sweep. Oft did he pause the lark to hear, With speckled wing, the skies explore; Oft paus'd to see the slow flock near: But he shall see, or hear no more! Then, stranger! be his foibles lost; At such small foibles Virtue smil❜d: Few was their number, large their cost, For he was Nature's orphan-child. The graceful drop of Pity spare, (To him the bright drop once belong'd); Well, well his doom deserves thy care, Much, much he suffer'd, much was wrong'd. When taught by life its pangs to know, Ah! as thou roam'st the checquer'd gloom, Bid the sweet night-bird's numbers flow, And the last sun-beam light his tomb. 1794. ADDRESS, DELIVERED AT THE LIVERPOOL THEATRE, When a Free Benefit was given to the Children of the late Mr. Palmer. WRITTEN BY MR. ROSCOE, Ye airy Sprites, who, oft as Fancy calls, And Thou, whose pow'rs sublimer thoughts impart, Thou, too, withdraw; for, 'midst thy lov'd abode, As Fancy's pictur'd forms around us mové, And, whilst his pulse concordant measure keeps, Destin'd o'er Life's SUBSTANTIAL ills to mourn, Then, whilst thy bosom, lab'ring with its grief, Than ever FANCY feign'd, or POET drew! Say why, by Heav'n's acknowledg'd hand imprest, Such keen sensations actuate all the breast? Why throbs the heart for joys that long have fled ? Is there thro' all the intellectual frame No kindred mind that prompts the nightly dream; Or, in lone musings of remembrance sweet, Inspires the secret wish- -once more to meet ?There is for, not by more determin'd laws The sympathetic steel the magnet draws, Than the freed Spirit acts, with strong controul, And tells, in characters of truth unfurl'd, Blest be that tear; who gives it doubly blest, That heals with balm the Orphan's wounded breast! EPITAPH. NYMPH! over thee, chaste, fair, and young, Each bosom breathes a sigh; Applauses flow from every tongue, And tears from every eye. Still lives, and ever shall, thy name, Thy beauty only died: Envy has nothing to proclaim, Nor Flattery to hide. |