With Natures' charms alone thy charms shall fade, With Being's self thy beauteous tribe declineOh! living, may thy flow'rs my temples shade, And decorate, when dead, my envied shrine!
How well has Heaven proportion'd Sylla's whole:
A little body to a little soul!
ON SIMPLICITY IN WORKS OF GENIUS.
SIMPLICITY, when thee of yore
Nature to bright-ey'd Genius bore,
Struck with thine artless grace,
She gaz'd with rapture on thy charms,
Then joyful clasp'd thee in her arms
The fairest of her race.
And still on thee her fav'rite child
She gracious mother kindly smil❜d,
And freely taught her lore;
With thee in council fram'd her laws,
To thee unveil'd each hidden cause
Thro' all her boundless store.
Hence of her works the choicest part
Her master-piece!—the human heart
Acknowledges her sway-
Still to the inmost last retreat,
Where its unnumber'd windings meet,
"Tis thou must lead the way.
DEAR to my soul, oh early lost!
Affection's arm was weak to save,
And Friendship's pride, and Virtue's boast,
Have sunk to an untimely grave.
Clos'd, ever clos'd, those speaking eyes,
Where sweetness beam'd, where candour shone !
And silent that heart-thrilling voice,
Which Music lov'd, and call'd her own.
That gentle bosom now is cold,
Where Feeling's vestal splendours glowed;
And crumbling down to common mould,
That heart, where love and truth abode.
Yet I behold the smile unfeign'd,
Which doubt dispelled and kindness won;
Yet the soft diffidence, that gain'd
The triumph it appear'd to shun.
Delusion all-forbear my heart,
These unavailing throbs restrain ;
Destruction has perform'd his part,
And Death proclaims thy pangs are vain.
Vain tho' they be this heart must swell
With grief that time shall ne'er efface;
And still with bitter pleasure dwell,
On every virtue, every grace.
For ever lost! I vainly deem'd,
That Heaven my early friend would spare ;
And darker as the prospect seem'd,
The more I struggled with Despair.
I said yet a presaging tear
Unbidden rose, and spoke more true-
She still shall live-the unfolding year
Shall banish pain, and health renew.
She yet shall tread the flowery field,
And catch the opening roses breath;
To watchful Love Disease shall yield,
And Friendship ward the shafts of Death.
Alas! before the violet bloom'd,
Before the snows of winter fled,
Too certain Fate my hopes consum'd,
And she was numbered with the dead
She died deserving to be mourn'd,
While parted worth a pang can give;
She died-by Heaven's best gifts adorn'd,
While Folly, Falsehood, Baseness, live.
Long in their vileness live secure
The noxious weed, and wounding thorn ;
While snatch'd by violence ere mature,
'The lilly from her stem is torn.
Flower worthy Heaven-and Heaven alone,
Thee, good and pure, deserved to share―
On earth a stranger, only shown
To teach what angel natures are.
Yet, who shall blame the heart that feels,
When Heaven resumes the good it gave?
Yet, who shall scorn the tear that steals
From Friendship's eye at Virtue's grave?
Friend, Parent, Sister, tenderest names,
May I, as pale at Memory's shrine
Ye pour the tribute anguish claims,
Approach, unblam'd, and mingle mine?
Long on the joys of vanish'd years,
The glance of sadness shall be cast;
Long, long, the emphatic speech of tears
Shall mourn their bloom forever past.
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