I thought that GRANDEUR with a lib'ral hand

Could strew my path of life with sweetest flow'rs;
That WEALTH omnipotent could TIME command,
And from his pinions pluck his whitest hours.

Constant in MEM'RY's eye her form appears--
Where'er I tread, a source of woe I find;
In ev'ry rill methinks I see her tears,
And hear her sigh in ev'ry passing wind.

What now remains, my horrors to beguile?

Away, ye dreams of grandeur, wealth, away!
Who cannot give my cheek one little smile,

Nor bribe a single moment to be gay.

*

THE RELIC;

OR, THE FAIR MOURNER.

BY PETER PINDAR, ESQ.

Supposed to be spoken by a LADY, on receiving a lock of the Duke D'ENGHIEN's hair, which he desired to be cut off and presented to her after his execution.-To this Lady, report says, the DUKE was very soon to have been married.

DEAR RELIC, to me, ah! divine!
O welcome, no more to depart ;

On this bosom of sorrow recline,

Thy presence will soothe my poor heart.

Thou wilt hear the complaint of fond LovE,

And pity the rigour of FATE;

Thou wilt hear the lorn voice of the dove,

Lamenting the loss of her mate.

So pure of our pleasures the spring,

We rivall'd the ages of old,

TIME brought not a care on his wing,

For his moments were moments of gold.

Near my heart, thou, rich RELIC! shalt lic, While I wander life's valley of gloom; And when thy Companion shall die,

We will join in the sleep of the Tomb.

THE END.

C. SPILSBURY, PRINTER, ANGEL-COURT, SNOWHIIL.