In vain warm suns their influence shed,
The zephyrs sport in vain,

He rears unchanged his barren head,
Whilst beauty decks the plain.

What though, in scaly armour dressed,
Indifference may repel

The shafts of woe, in such a breast
No joy can ever dwell.

'Tis woven in the world's great plan,
And fixed by Heaven's decree,
That all the true delights of man
Should spring from Sympathy.

'Tis nature bids, and, whilst the laws
Of nature we retain,

Our self-approving bosom draws

A pleasure from its pain.

Thus grief itself has comforts dear

The sordid never know;

And ecstasy attends the tear,

When virtue bids it flow.

For when it streams from that pure source,

No bribes the heart can win

To check, or alter from its course,

The luxury within.

Peace to the phlegm of sullen elves,
Who, if from labour eased,
Extend no care beyond themselves,
Unpleasing and unpleased.

Let no low thought suggest the prayer!
Oh! grant, kind Heaven, to me,
Long as I draw ethereal air,

Sweet Sensibility!

Where'er the heavenly nymph is seen,

With lustre-beaming eye,

A train, attendant on their queen,

(Her rosy chorus) fly.

The jocund Loves in Hymen's band,
With torches ever bright,

And generous Friendship hand in hand

With Pity's watery sight.

The gentler Virtues too are joined,
In youth immortal warm,

The soft relations which, combined,
Give life her every charm.

The Arts come smiling in the close,
And lend celestial fire;

The marble breathes, the canvas glows,
The Muses sweep the lyre.

Still may my melting bosom cleave
To sufferings not my own;
And still the sigh responsive heave,
Where'er is heard a groan.

So Pity shall take Virtue's part,
Her natural ally,

And fashioning my softened heart,
Prepare it for the sky.

This artless vow may Heaven receive,
And you, fond maid, approve ;
So may your guiding angel give
Whate'er you wish or love.

So may the rosy-fingered hours
Lead on the various year,
And every joy which now is yours
Extend a larger sphere.

And suns to come, as round they wheel, Your golden moments bless,

With all a tender heart can feel,

Or lively fancy guess.

THE CERTAINTY OF DEATH

MORTALS! around your destined heads
Thick fly the shafts of Death,
And lo! the savage spoiler spreads
A thousand toils beneath.

In vain we trifle with our fate;
Try every art in vain ;

At best we but prolong the date

And lengthen out our pain,

Fondly we think all danger fled,
For Death is ever nigh;
Outstrips our unavailing speed,
Or meets us as we fly.

Thus the wrecked mariner may strive
Some desert shore to gain,
Secure of life, if he survive
The fury of the main.

But there, to famine doomed a prey,
Finds, the mistaken wretch!
He but escaped the troubled sea
To perish on the beach.

Since then in vain we strive to guard
Our frailty from the foe,

Lord, let me live not unprepared
To meet the fatal blow!

TRANSLATION OF PSALM CXXXVII

To Babylon's proud waters brought,
In bondage where we lay,

With tears on Sion's Hill we thought,
And sighed our hours away;
Neglected on the willows hung
Our useless harps, while every tongue
Bewailed the fatal day.

Then did the base insulting foe

Some joyous notes demand,

Such as in Sion used to flow

From Judah's happy band:
Alas! what joyous notes have we,
Our country spoiled, no longer free,
And in a foreign land?

O Solyma! if e'er thy praise
Be silent in my song,
Rude and unpleasing be the lays,
And artless be my tongue!
Thy name my fancy still employs ;
To thee, great fountain of my joys,
My sweetest airs belong.

Remember, Lord! that hostile sound,
When Edom's children cried,
"Razed be her turrets to the ground,
And humbled be her pride!
Remember, Lord! and let the foe
The terror of thy vengeance know,
The vengeance they defied!

Thou too, great Babylon, shalt fall
A victim to our God;
Thy monstrous crimes already call
For heaven's chastising rod.
Happy who shall thy little ones
Relentless dash against the stones,
And spread their limbs abroad.

LINES WRITTEN UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF DELIRIUM

HATRED and vengeance, my eternal portion,
Scarce can endure delay of execution,
Wait with impatient readiness to seize my

Soul in a moment.

Damned below Judas; more abhorred than he was,
Who for a few pence sold his holy Master!
Twice-betrayed Jesus me, the last delinquent,
Deems the profanest.

Man disavows, and Deity disowns me,
Hell might afford my miseries a shelter;

Therefore Hell keeps her ever-hungry mouths all
Bolted against me.

Hard lot! encompassed with a thousand dangers; Weary, faint, trembling with a thousand terrors, I'm called, if vanquished, to receive a sentence Worse than Abiram's.

Him the vindictive rod of angry Justice

Sent quick and howling to the centre headlong;
I, fed with judgment, in a fleshly tomb, am

Buried above ground.

A SONG OF MERCY AND Judgment

LORD, I love the habitation

Where the Saviour's honour dwells.
At the sound of Thy salvation
With delight my bosom swells.

Grace Divine, how sweet the sound!
Sweet the grace that I have found.

Me thro' waves of deep affliction
Dearest Saviour! Thou has brought,
Fiery deeps of sharp conviction

Hard to bear and passing thought.

Sweet the sound of grace Divine,

Sweet the grace which makes me Thine.

From the cheerful beams of morning
Sad I turned mine eyes away :
And the shades of night returning
Filled my soul with new dismay.

Grace Divine, how sweet the sound!

Sweet the grace that I have found.

Food I loathed, nor ever tasted
But by violence constrained,
Strength decayed and body wasted
Spoke the terrors I sustained.

Sweet the sound of grace Divine,

Sweet the grace which makes me Thine.

Bound and watched, lest, life abhorring,
I should my own death procure,
For to me the pit of roaring
Seemed more easy to endure.

Grace Divine, how sweet the sound!
Sweet the grace which I have found.

Fear of Thee with gloomy sadness
Overwhelmed Thy guilty worm,
Till, reduced to moping madness,
Reason sank beneath the storm.

Sweet the sound of grace Divine,

Sweet the grace which makes me Thine.