For Beauty's honour'd image. Hither turn
Thy graceful footsteps; hither, gentle maid,
Incline thy polish'd forehead: let thy eyes
Effuse the mildness of their azure dawn;
And may the fanning breezes waft aside
Thy radiant locks; disclosing, as it bends
With airy softness from the marble neck,
The cheek fair blooming, aud the rosy lip,
Where winning smiles and pleasure sweet as love,
With sanctity and wisdom, temp'ring blend
Their soft allurement.
YE Fair, for whom the hands of Hymen weave The nuptial wreath to deck your virgin brów, While pleasing pains the conscious bosom heave, And on the kindling cheek the blushes glow:
To you I sing.-Ah! ere the raptor'd youth
With trembling hand removes the jealous veil,
Where, long regardless of the vows of truth,
Unsocial coyness stamp'd th'ungrateful seal :
Allow the poet round your flowing hair,
Cull'd from an humble vale, a wreath to twine,
To Beauty's altar with the Loves repair,
And wake the lute beside that living shrine:
That shrine where Nature, with presaging aim,
What time her friendly aid Lucina brings,
The snowy nectar pours, delightful stream! Where flutt'ring Cupids dip their purple wings:
For you, who bear a Mother's sacred name, Whose cradled offspring, in lamenting strain,. With artless eloquence asserts his claim, The boon of Nature, but asserts in vain :
When 'mid the polish'd circle ye rejoice, Or roving join fantastic Pleasure's train,
Unheard perchance the nursling lifts his voice,
His tears unnotic'd, and unsooth'd his pain.
Far better hadst thou first beheld the light
Beneath the rafter of some roof obscure;
There in a mother's eye to read delight,
And in her cradling arm repose secure.
Unsway'd by Fashion's dull, unseemly jest,
Still to the bosom let your infant cling,
There banquet oft, an ever welcome guest,
Unblam'd inebriate at that healthful spring.
With fond solicitude each pain assuage,
Explain the look, awake the ready smile;
Unfeign'd attachment so shall you engage,
To crown with gratitude maternal toil :
So shall your daughters, in Affliction's day, When, o'er your form the gloom of age shall spread, With lenient converse chase the hours away,
And smooth with Duty's hand the widow'd bed:
E'en from the wreath, that decks the warrior's brow, Some chosen leaves your peaceful walks shall strew : And c'en the flow'rs on classic ground that blow, Shall all unfold their choicest sweets for you.
With conscious joy the tender parent fraught,
Still to her son's renown adjoins her name;
For at the nurt'ring breast the patriot caught
The love of virtue, and the love of fame.
O THOU great Arbiter of life and death! Nature's immortal, immaterial sun!
Whose all-prolific beam late call'd me forth
From darkness, teeming darkness, where I lay
The worm's inferior; and, in rank, beneath
The dust I tread on; high to bear my brow,
To drink the spirit of the golden day,
And triumph in existence; and couldst know
No motive but my bliss, and hast ordain'd
A rise in blessing! with the patriarch's joy
Thy call I follow to the land unknown :
I trust in thee, and know in whom I trust:
Or life or death is equal; neither weighs;
All weight in this-O let ine live to thee!
HAIL Mem'ry, hail! in thy exhaustless mine From age to age unnumber'd treasures shine! Thought and her shad'wy brood thy call obey, And Place and Time are subject to thy sway! Thy pleasures most we feel, when most alone; The only pleasures we can call our own. Lighter than air, Hope's summer-visions die, If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky; If but a beam of sober Reason play, Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away! But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Pow'r, Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour? These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight, Pour round her path a stream of living light; And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest, Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest!
O'er the still lake the bell of ev'ning toll'd, And on the moor the shepherd penn'd his fold;
And on the green hill's side the meteor play'd;
When, hark! a voice sung sweetly thro' the shade.
It ceas'd- yet still in Florio's fancy sung,
Still on each note his captive spirit hung;
Till o'er the mead a cool, sequester'd grot ·
From it's rich roof a sparry lustre shot.
A crystal water cross'd the pebbled floor,
And on the front these simple lines it bore:
"Hence away, nor dare intrude!
In this secret, shad'wy cell
Musing Mem'ry loves to dwell,
With her sister Solitude.
Far from the busy world she flies,
To taste that peace the world denies.
Entranc'd she sits; from youth to age,
Reviewing Life's eventful page;
And noting, ere they fade away,
The little lines of yesterday."
Ah! why should Virtue dread the frowns of
Fate?
Hers what no wealth can win, no pow'r create!
A little world of clear and cloudless day,
Nor wreck'd by storms, nor moulder'd by decay;
A world, with Mem'ry's ceaseless sunshine blest,
The home of Happiness, an honest breast.
COMING OF THE MESSIAH.
THE Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold: Hear him, ye deaf; and all ye blind, behold! He from thick âlms shall purge the visual ray, And on the sightless eye-ball pour the day:
'Tis he th' obstructed paths of sound shall clear,
And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear:
The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego,
And leap, exulting, like the bounding roe.
No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear,
From ev'ry face he wipes off ev'ry tear.
In adamantine chains shall Death be bound,
And Hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound.
As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care,
Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air;
Explores the lost, the wand'ring sheep directs,
By day o'ersees them, and by night protects;
The tender lambs he raises in his arms,
Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms;
Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage,
The promis'd father of the future age.
SAY, where shall hope and fear their objects find? Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind?
Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate,
Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate?
Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise,
No cries invoke the mercies of the skies?
Inquirer, cease; petitions yet remain,
Which Heav'n may hear; nor deem religion vain.
Still raise for good the supplicating voice;
But leave to Heav'n the measure and the choice.
Safe in his pow'r, whose eyes discern afar
The secret ambush of a specious pray'r,
Implore his aid, in his decisions rest,
Secure whate'er he gives, he gives the best.
Yet when the sense of Sacred Presence fires,
And strong devotion to the skies aspires,
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