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SONG ON PEACE.

[This and the following were composed at the request of Lady Austen in the summer of 1783.]

AIR- 66

My fond shepherds of late," &c. .

No longer I follow a sound;
No longer a dream I pursue ;
O happiness! not to be found,
Unattainable treasure, adieu!

I have sought thee in splendour and dress,
In the regions of pleasure and taste;
I have sought thee, and seem'd to possess,
But have proved thee a vision at last.

An humble ambition and hope

The voice of true wisdom inspires ; 'Tis sufficient, if Peace be the scope, And the summit of all our desires.

Peace may be the lot of the mind

That seeks it in meekness and love;

But rapture and bliss are confined
To the glorified spirits above.

ANOTHER.

AIR" The Lass of Patie's Mill."

WHEN all within is peace,

How Nature seems to smile!

Delights that never cease,

The live-long day beguile.
From morn to dewy eve,
With open hand she showers
Fresh blessings to deceive

And sooth the silent hours.

It is content of heart

Gives Nature power to please;
The mind that feels no smart,
Enlivens all it sees;
Can make a wintry sky

Seem bright as smiling May,
And evening's closing eye
As peep of early day.

The vast majestic globe,
So beauteously array'd
In Nature's various robe,
With wondrous skill display'd,
Is to a mourner's heart

A dreary wild at best;

It flutters to depart,

And longs to be at rest.

THE ROSE.

[Published in the Gentleman's Magazine for August, 1785, but written in June, 1783. The domestic trait so beautifully touched in this little piece occurred on a Wednesday evening, when the Poet, on returning from a walk, rashly, as he describes, snapped the dewy flower which Mrs Unwin had just presented to Lady Austen.]

THE rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a shower,
Which Mary to Anna convey'd,

The plentiful moisture encumber'd the flower,
And weigh'd down its beautiful head.

The cup was all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet,

And it seem'd to a fanciful view,

To weep for the buds it had left with regret,
On the flourishing bush where it grew.

I hastily seized it, unfit as it was

For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd,
And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas!
I snapp'd it it fell to the ground.

And such, I exclaim'd, is the pitiless part
Some act by the delicate mind,

Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart
Already to sorrow resign'd.

This elegant rose, had I shaken it less,

Might have bloom'd with its owner a while; And the tear, that is wiped with a little address, May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.

THE FAITHFUL FRIEND.

[Written in August, 1783, on a circumstance described with equal felicity in prose in the Poet's letters of that date. In the title the author writes sometimes bird, sometimes friend.]

THE greenhouse is my summer seat:
My shrubs displaced from that retreat
Enjoy'd the open air;

Two goldfinches, whose sprightly song
Had been their mutual solace long,
Lived happy prisoners there.

They sang, as blithe as finches sing,
That flutter loose on golden wing,
And frolic where they list;
Strangers to liberty, 'tis true,
But that delight they never knew,
And therefore never miss'd.

But Nature works in every breast;
Instinct is never quite suppress'd;
And Dick felt some desires,
Which, after many an effort vain,
Instructed him at length to gain
A pass between his wires.

The open window seem'd to invite
The freeman to a farewell flight;
But Tom was still confined;

And Dick, although his way was clear,
Was much too generous and sincere
To leave his friend behind.

For, settling on his grated roof,

He chirp'd and kiss'd him, giving proof
That he desired no more;

Nor would forsake his cage at last,

Till, gently seized, I shut him fast,
A prisoner as before.

O ye, who never knew the joys,
Of Friendship, satisfied with noise,
Fandango, ball, and rout!

Blush, when I tell you how a bird,
A prison with a friend preferr'd
To liberty without.

VALEDICTION.

[Composed in November, 1783, and occasioned by the neglect with which his two early friends, Colman, and especially Chancellor Thurlow, treated the Poet's first volume, to each of whom he sent a copy; a compliment which neither acknowledged. The seeming disrespect, though afterwards explained to his satisfaction, caused him much pain, and some of the suppressed verses shew that he felt with becoming dignity, as for instance

Forgetful of the man whom once ye chose,
Cold in his cause, and careless of his woes!

I bid you both a long and last adieu,

Cold in my turn, and unconcern'd as you!

See Letter to Colman, No. 200, December 27, 1785.]
O Friendship! cordial of the human breast!
So little felt, so fervently profess'd!
Thy blossoms deck our unsuspecting years;
The promise of delicious fruit appears:
We hug the hopes of constancy and truth,
Such is the folly of our dreaming youth;
But soon, alas! detect the rash mistake,
That sanguine inexperience loves to make;
And view with tears the expected harvest lost,
Decay'd by time, or wither'd by a frost.

Whoever undertakes a friend's great part
Should be renew'd in nature, pure in heart,
Prepared for martyrdom, and strong to prove
A thousand ways the force of genuine love.
He may be call'd to give up health and gain,
To exchange content for trouble, ease for pain,
To echo sigh for sigh, and groan for groan,
And wet his cheeks with sorrows not his own.
The heart of man, for such a task too frail,
When most relied on, is most sure to fail;
And, summon'd to partake its fellow's wo,
Starts from its office, like a broken bow.

Votaries of business, and of pleasure, prove
Faithless alike in friendship and in love.
Retired from all the circles of the gay,
And all the crowds, that bustle life away,
To scenes, where competition, envy, strife,
Beget no thunder-clouds to trouble life,
Let me, the charge of some good angel, find
One, who has known, and has escaped mankind ;
Polite, yet virtuous, who has brought away
The manners, not the morals, of the day:
With him, perhaps with her, (for men have known
No firmer friendships than the fair have shown)
Let me enjoy, in some unthought-of spot,
All former friends forgiven and forgot,
Down to the close of life's fast fading scene,
Union of hearts, without a flaw between.
'Tis grace, 'tis bounty, and it calls for praise,
If God give health, that sunshine of our days!
And if he add, a blessing shared by few,
Content of heart, more praises still are due
But if he grant a friend, that boon possess❜d
Indeed is treasure, and crowns all the rest;
And giving one, whose heart is in the skies,
Born from above, and made divinely wise,
He gives, what bankrupt nature never can,
Whose noblest coin is light and brittle man,
Gold, purer far than Ophir ever knew,

A soul, an image of himself, and therefore true.

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