VI Ye winged hours that o'er us past, Enraptur'd more the more enjoy'd, Your dear remembrance in my breast, My fondly treasured thoughts employ'd. That breast, how dreary now, and void, For her too scanty once of room! Ev'n ev'ry ray of hope destroy'd, And not a wish to gild the gloom! VII. The morn that warms th' approaching day, That I must suffer, lingering, slow. VIII. And when my nightly couch I try, Reigus haggard-wild, in sore affright: From such a horror breathing night. IX. O! thou bright queen, who o'er th' expanse Now highest reign'st, with boundless sway Oft has thy silent-marking glance While love's luxurious pulse beat high, X. Oh! scenes in strong remembrance set! Scenes, never, never, to return! Scenes, if in stupor I forget, Again I feel, again I burn! DESPONDENCY, AN ODE. I. OPPRESS'D with grief, oppress'd with care, A burden more than I can bear, I sit me down and sigh: Along a rough, a weary road, Dim backward as I cast my view, What sorrows yet may pierce me thro Still caring, despairing, Must be my bitter doom; My woes here shall close ne'er, But with the closing tomb SI II. Happy, ye sons of busy life, Who, equal to the bustling strife, Ev'n when the wished end's deny'd Meet ev'ry sad returning night, Find every prospect vain. III. How blest the Solitary's lot, Who, all-forgetting, all forgot, Within his humble cell, The cavern wild with tangling roots, Or, haply, to his ev'ning thought, The ways of men are distant brought, A faint collected dream: While praising, and raising His thoughts to heav'n on high, He views the solemn sky. IV. Than I, no lonely hermit plac'd The lucky moment to improve, But, ah! those pleasures, loves, and joys, The Solitary can despise, V. Oh! enviable, early days, When dancing thoughtless pleasure's maze,' To care, to guilt unknown! How ill-exchang'd for riper times, To feel the follies or the crimes, Of others, or my own! Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport, Ye little know the ills ye court, WINTER, A DIRGE. I. THE wintry west extends his blast, Or, the stormy north sends driving forth While tumbling brown, the burn comes down, And roars frae bank to brae; And bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. II. "The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast,"* The joyless winter day, Let others fear to me more dear Than all the pride of May: * Dr Young. |