Ungenerous man, be first to shun thee;
Though all the world look cold upon thee,
Yet shall thy pureness keep thee still
Unharmed by that surrounding chill;
Like the famed drop, in crystal found,1
Floating, while all was frozen round,
Unchilled unchanging shalt thou be,
Safe in thy own sweet purity.

ANACREONTIC.

in lachrymas verterat omne merum. TIB. lib. i. eleg. 5.

PRESS the grape, and let it pour Around the board its purple shower; And, while the drops my goblet steep, I'll think in woe the clusters weep.

Weep on, weep on, my pouting vine!
Heaven grant no tears, but tears of wine.
Weep on; and, as thy sorrows flow,
I'll taste the luxury of woe.

TO.

WHEN I loved you, I can't but allow I had many an exquisite minute; But the scorn that I feel for you now Hath even more luxury in it.

Thus, whether we 're on or we 're off,
Some witchery seems to await you;
To love you was pleasant enough,
And, oh! 't is delicious to hate you!

TO JULIA.

IN ALLUSION TO SOME ILLIBERAL CRIT-
ICISMS.

WHY, let the stingless critic chide
With all that fume of vacant pride

1 This alludes to a curious gem, upon which Claudian has left us some very elaborate epigrams. It was a drop of pure water enclosed within a piece of crystal. See Claudian. Epigram. de crystallo cui aqua inerat." Addison mentions a curiosity of this kind at Milan; and adds, "It is such a rarity as this that I saw at Vendôme in France, which they there pretend is a tear that our Saviour shed over Lazarus, and was gathered up by an angel, who put it into a little crystal vial, and made a present of it to Mary Magdalen. -ADDISON'S "Remarks on several Parts of Italy."

Which mantles o'er the pedant fool,
Like vapor on a stagnant pool.
Oh! if the song, to feeling true,
Can please the elect, the sacred few,
Whose souls, by Taste and Nature taught,
Thrill with the genuine pulse of thought-
If some fond feeling maid like thee,
The warm-eyed child of Sympathy,
Shall say, while o'er my simple theme
She languishes in Passion's dream,
"He was, indeed, a tender soul
"No critic law, no chill control,
"Should ever freeze, by timid art,
"The flowings of so fond a heart!"
Yes, soul of Nature! soul of Love!
That, hovering like a snow-winged dove,
Breathed o'er my cradle warblings wild,
And hailed me Passion's warmest child,
Grant me the tear from Beauty's eye,
From Feeling's breast the votive sigh;
Oh! let my song, my memory, find
A shrine within the tender mind;
And I will smile when critics chide,
And I will scorn the fume of pride
Which mantles o'er the pedant fool,
Like vapor round some stagnant pool!

TO JULIA.

But shall I still go seek within those arms A joy in which affection takes no part? No, no, farewell! you give me but your charms,

When I had fondly thought you gave your heart.

THE SHRINE.

TO ......

My fates had destined me to rove
A long, long pilgrimage of love;
And many an altar on my way
Has lured my pious steps to stay;
For, if the saint was young and fair,
I turned and sung my vespers there.
This, from a youthful pilgrim's fire,
Is what your pretty saints require:
To pass, nor tell a single bead,
With them would be profane indeed!
But, trust me, all this young devotion
Was but to keep my zeal in motion;
And, every humbler altar past,

I now have reached THE SHRINE at last!

TO A LADY,

WITH SOME MANUSCRIPT POEMS.

ON LEAVING THE COUNTRY.

dream,

A dream, I find, illusory as sweet: One smile of friendship, nay, of cold esteem,

Far dearer were than passion's bland deceit !

I've heard you oft eternal truth declare; Your heart was only mine, I once believed.

Ah! shall I say that all your vows were air?

And must I say, my hopes were all deceived?

Vow, then, no longer that our souls are twined,

That all our joys are felt with mutual zeal;

Julia! 't is pity, pity makes you kind; You know I love, and you would seem to feel.

I leave the friends I cherish here Perchance some other friends to find, But surely finding none so dear

Haply the little simple page,

Which votive thus I 've traced for thee, May now and then a look engage, And steal one moment's thought for

me.

But, oh! in pity let not those

Whose hearts are not of gentle mould, Let not the eye that seldom flows

With feeling's tear, my song behold.

For, trust me, they who never melt

With pity, never melt with love; And such will frown at all I 've felt, And all my loving lays reprove.

But if, perhaps, some gentler mind, Which rather loves to praise than blame,

ΤΟ

SWEET lady, look not thus again:
Those bright deluding smiles recall
A maid remember'd now with pain,
Who was my love, my life, my all!

Oh! while this heart bewildered took
Sweet poison from her thrilling eye,
Thus would she smile and lisp and look,
And I would hear and gaze and sigh!

Yes, I did love her wildly love —

She was her sex's best deceiver ! And oft she swore she'd never rove And I was destined to believe her!

Then, lady, do not wear the smile
Of one whose smile could thus betray;
Alas! I think the lovely wile

Again could steal my heart away.

For, when those spells that charmed my mind,

On lips so pure as thine I see,
I fear the heart which she resigned
Will err again and fly to thee!

NATURE'S LABELS.

A FRAGMENT.

IN vain we fondly strive to trace
The soul's reflection in the face;
In vain we dwell on lines and crosses,
Crooked mouth or short proboscis;
Boobies have looked as wise and bright
As Plato or the Stagirite:

And many a sage and learned skull
Has peeped through windows dark and
dull.

Since then, though art do all it can,
We ne'er can reach the inward man,
Nor (howsoe'er "learned Thebans "
doubt)

The inward woman, from without,
Methinks 't were well if Nature could
(And Nature could, if Nature would)
Some pithy, short descriptions write,
On tablets large, in black and white,
Which she might hang about our throt-
tles,

Like labels upon physic-bottles;

And where all men might read -- but

stay