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In the fair morn of favor*« roseate day,

By sudden fall bis fetters drop away:

On the wide world's tempestuous ocean cast,

How happy from thp storm escap'd at last,

To save the wreck of life, a want-devoted prey!

Yet still to cheer him in this wreck of life,
One treasure, source of soothing peace remain'd:
In this he deems all happiness regain'd;
A friend, a cottage, and a faithful wife.
"O gracious Heaien! but tie gn these blessings spare,
"Spare me but these!" was now his only prayer.
No other wish his happy spirit knew—
Heav'n heard—ten years like one too swiftly flew.
Then o'er their tomb be bow'd an image of despair?

Three sons, fair thriving in life's vernal bloom,
The image of his youth, anri hope of age,
Are swept away by pestilential rage,
And grief soon lays their mother in the tomb.
Who now is left that si-hs bis sigh to hear,
Who, when he weeps, consoles with answ'ring tear i
For, ah! his only friend, he too is gone!
Bereft of all be Ic-'u, he pines alone;
Lone, in a stranger world, bow'd down with woe severe i

He droops upon the desolated spot,
A lone and leafless tree, 'mid stormy gales:
Tbe fountain of bis joy for ever fails-
How insupportable the friendless cot
Where happiness once fix'd her chosen place!
What is the world t a vast and vacant space
For fortune's wheel to roll around at will!
His last lov'd prop now gone, why linger still r
His sole sad wish a grave, to end his weary race.

Within this void inhospitable seat
Alphonso flew with woe-bewilder'd mind:
And found, what grief had never hpp'd to find.
Peace and content as tardy years retreat.
Tbo' worldlings from the wretch had basely flown,
One who Alphonso's prosperous days had known,
An old domestic, faithful to his lord,
Cleaves to hb side in grief without reward—
And here their sole retreat, the rude o'erhanging stone.

And by degrees he struggled thro* the flood
That nigh o'erwhelm'd his soul in hopeless death-
Peace, stillness, temperance, Zephyr's balmy breath,
His mind unclouded, purified his blood,

And And bade new hope a gleam of joy restore.

And now he felt from heaven's exhaustless store

That e'en tor wounds like bis a balsam flow'd:

Felt, when the magic of asun-heam glow'd,

That nature's charms had pow'r to soothe his soul once more.

And when at last this paradise he saw,
By some kind genius fenc'cl with rocks around,
As if for him a consecrated ground,
He feels affliction from his soul withdraw:
He feels his spirit glowing with delight,
Rous'd frow the tortures of afev'rous night,
Soar to the twilight of eternal day—
"Here rest," be cries, "this paradise survey, .
"Rest, where no worldly grief our souls shall rudely smite!"

Thus in enjoyment, and alternate toil,
fie the late harvest of his life consum'd,
And till'd his little spot, where ever bloom'd
Luxuriant plenty from the grateful soil—
Labour was pleasure, labour sweeten'd rest:
Lost to the world, its miseries seem'd at best
A childish dream, wheneVr he turn'd to trace .

The wretched earnings of his earthly race:
Thus conscience, health, and peace, his spirit daily blest.

Now, bow'd with years, his lov'd companion died—
Alone remain'd the hermit, yet the more
His spirit turn'd to that celestial shore,
Where all he lov'd did with their God reside-
There dwelt his soul—a wandering stranger here—
'Mid the si ill night when objects disappear,
And bodies, as external senses die,
In their tirsi nothing seem again to lie,
Oft on bis cheek be felt a breathing spirit near.

Then his half-slumbering ears in trance perceive,
With shuddering rapture heard, the groves amoog,
Angelic harmonies at distance sung,
For him the inexpressive chorus weave:
And as he lists be feels earth's slender wall,
That ports him from his friends, about to fall:
His spirit swells, a flame celestial bright
Burns in his breast, while rob'd in heavenly light
Shapes of the viewless world his soul responsive call.

These yet remain, when softly laid in sleep
H s eyelids close, and in the morning rays,
When the wide world its theatre displays,
Still o'er his sense the warbled echoes sweep;

N2 A soulA soul-felt glance of heavenly joy suprema"

Gilds all around, the groves and mountains gleam 7

And, over all, he sees the form diviue,

The uncreated in his creatures shine,

Bright as in drops of dew the sun's reflected beam.

Thus imperceptibly did heaven and earth
United in his soul together run:
His spirit brightens like an inward sun;
Far from the dissonance of mortal birth,
From passion's turmoil, iu this holy gloom
Joys that await the blest his soul illume.
Who locks my daring lip with viewless seal,
Lest aught ineffable its warmth reveal?
Mute o'er th* abyss I bend—man dares no more presume.

Situation, Ornaments, &c. of a Villa, adapted to lettered luse.

[From an Epistle to a Friend, &c. by the Author of the Pleasous <"


STILL must my partial pencil love to dwell
On the home-prospects of my hermit cell;
The mossy pales that skirt the orchard green,
Here hid by shrub-wood, there by glimpses seen;
And the brbwn pathway, that, with careless flow,
Sinks, and is lost among the trees below.
Still must it trace (the flattering tints forgive)
Each fleeting charm that bids the landscape live.
Oft o'er the mead, at pleasing distance pass
Urowsing the hedge by fits the pannier'd ass;
The idling shepherd boy, with rudedelight,
Whistling his dog to mark the pebble's flight;
And in her kerchief blue the cottage-maid,
With brimming pitcher from the shadowy glade.
Far to the south a mountain-vale retires,
Rich in its groves, and glens, and village-spires;
Its upland lawns, and cliffs with foliage hung,
Its wizard-stream, nor nameless nor unsung:
And thro' the various year, the various day,
What scenes of glory burst, and melt away!

Here no state-chambers in long line unfold,
Bright with broad mirrors, rough, with fretted gold •,
^ et modest ornament, with use combin'd,
Attracts the eye to exercise the mind. «
Small change of scene, small space his home requires,
Who leads u life of satisfied desires.

What tho* no marble breathes, no canvass glows,
From every point a ray of genius flows!
Be mine to bless the more mechanic skill,
That stamps, renews., and multiplies at will,
And cheaply circulates, thro' distant climes,
The fairest relics of the purest times.
Here from the mould to conscious being start ■

Those finer forms, the miracles of art;
Here chosen gems, imprest on sulphur, shine,
That slept lor ages in a second mine;
And here the faithful graver dares to trace
A Michael's grandeur, and a Raphael's grace!
Thy gallery, Florence, gilds my humble walls,
And my low roof the Vatican recalls!

Soon as the morning-dream my pillow flies,
To waking sense what brighter visions rise!
O mark; again the coursers of the sun,
At Guido's call, their round of glory run!
Again the rosy Hours resume their flight,
Obscur'd and lost in floods of golden light!

But could thine erring friend so long forget
(Sweet source of pensive joy and fond regret)
That here its warmest hues the pencil Sings,
Lo ! here the lost restores, the absent brings;
And still the few best lov'd and most rever'd
Rise round the board their social smile endear'd?

Selected shelves shall claim thy studious hours;
There shall thy ranging mind be fed on flowers!
There, while the shaded lamp's mild lustre streams,
Read ancient books, or woo inspiring dreams;
And, when a sage's bust arrests thee There,
Pause, and his features with bis thoughts compare.
—Ah, most that art my grateful rapture calls,
Which breathes a soul into the silent walls;
Which gathers round the wise of every tongue,
All on whose words departed nations hung;
Still prompt to charm with many a converse sweet;
Guides in the world, companions in retreat!

Tho' my thatch'd bath no rich mosaic knows,
A limpid stream with unfelt current flows.
Emblem of life ! which, still as we survey,
Seems motionless, yet ever glides away!
The shadowy walls record, with Attic art,
The strength and beauty that its waves import.

N3 Ho

Here Thetis, bending, with a mother's fears
Di;.s her dear boy, whose pride restrains his tears.
There Venus, rising, shrinks with sweet surprize,
As her fair self reflected seems to rise!

Lines from a Sick and Dying Plant at Hampton Court, to her


[From Mrs. Moody's Poetic Trifles.]

THOU dear companion of my birtb,
The produce ol one parent earth;
The care of one protecting hand,
And springing both Irom courtly land:
Ah why did late our lots disjoin,
And blessings only give to thine!
Why were not we, twin sisters, sent
To the same rural banishment?
How chai g'd since our last parting scene,
Tby Columnea's lovely mien:
When all my buds expanding grew,
With colour ol a scarlet hue:
My stem uossess'd a vigorous power,
Though frameu to bear a slender flower;
And on my leaves of tender green,
Was Nature's lightest pencil seen. ,
Thus.from the nursery we came,
With (harms deserving equal fame:
But equal fortune was nut given;
Thine was thechaige of kinder Heaven.
Yet miue, beheld through tashion's glass,
Where grandeur's glittering visious pass,
A happier dispensation seem'd;
And thine a vulvar lot was deem'd;
For I was destiu'd to resort
Amid the precincts of a court;
While thou, an exile to a cot,
By courts and toui tiers art forgot.
But Nature, judging in our case,
Decides through my declining lace,
That tainU^l gales a Court surround,
Where noxious particles abound;
She near no palace will reside,
Averse to haunts of wealth and pride;
Her laws exploded there she sees,
And all revers'd her pure decrees.
Hence She abandons grandeur's seats,
And seeks simplicity's retreats.


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