But ah! this flatt'ring scene of peace,
By neither can be long possest,
When Eurus breaks thy transient calm,
And rising sorrows shake my
Obscur'd thy Cynthia's silver ray
When clouds opposing intervene;
And every joy that friendship gives
Shall fade beneath the gloom of spleen.
TO-MORROW, didst thou say ?
Methought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow.
Go to-I will not hear of it-To-morrow!
"Tis a sharper, who stakes his penury
Against thy plenty-who takes thy ready cash, And pays thee nought but wishes, hopes, and pro mises,
The currency of ideots-Injurious bankrupt,.
That gulls the easy creditor!-To-morrow!
It is a period nowhere to be found
In all the hoary registers of Time,.
Unless perchance in the fool's calendar.
Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society
With those who own it. No, my Horatio,
'Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its father;
Wrought of such stuff as dreams are, and as baseless
As the fantastic visions of the evening.
But soft, my friend-arrest the present moments;
For be assured they are all arrant tell-tales;
And tho' their flight be sileat, and their path
Trackless, as the wing'd couriers of the air,
They post to heaven, and there record thy folly.
Because, tho' station'd on the important watch,
Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentinel,
Didst let them pass unnotic'd, unimprov'd.
And know, for that thou slumber'dst on the guard,
Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar
For every fugitive; and when thou thus
Shalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal
Of hood-wink'd Justice, who shall tell thy audit?
Then stay the present instant, dear Horatio,
Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings.
'Tis of more worth than kingdoms! far more precious
Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountain.
O! let it not elude thy grasp; but, like
The good old patriarch upon record,
Hold the fleet angel fast, until he bless thee.
WHAT falls so sweet on summer flow'rs
As soft, refreshing, tepid show'rs?
What bids the bud its sweets exhale
Like ev'ning's mildly-whispering gale?
Yet sweeter, more delicious far,
And brighter than the brightest star,
Decking the intellectual sphere,
Is Pity's meek, and balmy tear.
What bids despair her arrows hide?
What checks affliction's tort'ring tide?
What heals the wound of mental pain,
And sooths the fev'rish, throbbing brain?
What calms the rage of jealous pride,
And bids the rending pang subside?
Lulling to rest distrust and fear.
Soft Pity's kind and holy tear.
Yet not that pity form'd to give
A pang which bids affliction live;
Not Pity that can, taunting, show,
Superior pride, untouch'd by woe:
Not Pity that, with haughty smile,
Consoles, and murders all the while-
But Pity which is form'd to prove,
The bond of faith-the test of love.
YES, sweet is the joy when our blushes impart
The youthful affection that glows in the heart,
If prudence, and duty, and reason approve,
The timid delight of the virgin's first love.
But if the fond virgin be destin'd to feel
A passion she must in her bosom conceal,
Lest parents, relentless, the flame disapprove,-
Where's then the delight of the virgin's first love?
If stolen the glance by which love is exprest,
If sighs when half heav'd be with terror supprest,
If whispers of passion suspicion must move,
Where's then the delight of the virgin's first love?
Or if (ah too faithful!) with fondness she sighs
For one who has ceas'd her affection to prize,
Forgetting the vows by whose magic he strove
To gain that rich treasure the virgin's first love.
If, tempted by interest, he venture to shun
The gentle affection his tenderness won,
Through passion's soft maze with another to rove,—
Where's then the delight of the virgin's first love?
Her eye, (when the tale of his treachery she hears,)
Now beams with disdain, and now glistens with tears;
Ah! what can the arrow then rankling remove?
Farewell the delight of the virgin's first love!
And see, sad companion of mental distress,
Disease steal upon her in health's Hatt'ring dress:
Oh! surely that bloom every fear should remove!
Ah! no;-seek its cause in the virgin's first love.
Still brighter the colour appears on her cheek,
Her eye boasts a lustre no language can speak ;-
But vain are the hopes these appearances move,
Fond parent! they spring from the virgin's first love.
And soon, while unconscious that fate hovers near,
While hope's flattering smiles on her features appear,
No struggle, no groan, his approaches to prove,
Death ends the fond dream of the virgin's first love.
WHEN youth his fairy reign began,
Ere sorrow had proclaim'd me man;
While peace the present hour beguil'd,
And all the lovely prospect smil'd;
Then, Mary, 'mid my lightsome glee,
I heav'd the painless sigh for thee.
And when, along the waves of woe,'
My harrass'd heart was doom'd to know
The frantic burst of outrage keen,
And the slow pang, that gnaws unseen;
Then, shipwreck'd on life's stormy sea,
I heav'd an anguish'd sigh for thee!
But soon reflection's power impress'd
A stiller sadness on my breast;
And sickly hope, with waning eye,
Was well content to droop and die:
I yielded to the stern decreee,
Yet heav'd a languid sigh for thee!
And tho' in distant climes to roam,
A wand'rer from my native home,
I fain would soothe the sense of care,
And lull to sleep the joys that were!-
Thy image may not banish'd be-
Still, Mary, still I sigh for thee.
CHARACTER OF THE FAIR SEX.
THROUGH many a land and clime a ranger, With toilsome steps I've held my way,
A lonely unprotected stranger,
To all the stranger's ills a prey.
While steering thus my course precarious,
My fortune still has been to find
Men's hearts and dispositions various,
But gentle Woman ever kind.
Alive to every tender feeling,
To deeds of mercy always prone;
The wounds of pain and sorrow healing,
With soft compassion's sweetest tone.
No proud delay, no dark suspicion,
Stints the free bounty of their heart;
They turn not from the sad petition,
But cheerful aid at once impart.
Form'd in benevolence of nature,
Obliging, modest, gay, and mild,
Woman's the same endearing creature
In courtly town and savage wild.
When parch'd with thirst, with hunger wasted,
Her friendly hand refreshment gave;
How sweet the coarsest food has tasted!
What cordial in the simple wave!
|