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The spirits, when they gayest shine,
Youth, beauty, pleasure, all are thine !
O fun of life! whose heav'nly ray
Lights up and cheers our various day,
The turbulence of hopes and fears,
The storm of fate, the cloud of years,
Till nature, with thy parting light,
Reposes late in DEATH's calm night:
Fled from the trophy'd roofs of state,
Abodes of splendid pain and hate;
Fled from the couch, where, in sweet Deep,
Hot Riot would his anguish steep,
But tofles through the midnight-shade,
Of death, of life, alike afraid;
For ever fled to shady cell,
Where TEMP'RANCE, where the muses dwell;
Thou oft art feen, at early dawn,
Slow-pacing o'er the breezy lawn:
Or, on the brow of mountain high,
In silence-feafting ear and eye,
With fong and prospect, which abound
From birds, and woods, and waters round.

But when the sun, with noon-tide ray,
Flames forth intolerable day;
While heat fits fervent on the plain,
With Thirst and LANGOur in his train:
All nature fick’ning in the blaze :
Tholi, in the wild and woody maze,
That clouds the vale with umbrage deep,
Impendent from the neighb’ring Iteep,
Wilt find betimes a calm retreat,
Where breathing coolness has her feat.

There, plung'd amid the lhadows brown,
* IMAGINATION lays him down;
Attentive, in his airy mood,
To ev'ry murmur of the wood:
The bee in yonder flow'ry nook;
The chidings of the headlong brook;
The green-leaf fhiv’ring in the gale ;
The warbling hill, the lowing vale;

The distant WOODMAN's echoing stroke;
The thunder of the falling oak.
From thought to thought in vision led,
He holds high converte with the dead;
Sages, or poets. See they rise!
And shadowy skim before his eyes.
Hark! ORPHEUs strikes the lyre again,
That foftens savages to man:
Lo! SOCRATES, the fent of heav'n,
To whom its moral will was giv’n.
Fathers and friends of human-kind,
They form’d the nations, or refin'd ;
With all that mends the head and heart,
Enlight'ning TRUTH, adorning Art.

While thus I mus'd beneath the shade,
At once the founding breeze was laid :
And NATURE, by the unknown law,
Shook deep with reverential awe.
Dumb SILENCE grew upon the hour ;
A browner night involv'd the bow'r:
When ifluing from the inmost wood,
Appear’d fair FREEDOM's genius good.
0,-FREEDOM! fov'reign boon of heav'n;
Great charter, with our being giv’n ;
For which the PATRIOT and the SAGE,
Ilave plunn’d, have bled, through ev'ry age!
High privilege of human-race,
Beyond a mortal-monarch's grace:
Who could not give, nor can reclaim,
What but from Gop immediate came?

SELIM; OR, THE SHEPHERD's MORAL.

Scene, a Valley near Bagdat.-Time, Morning. YE PERsian maids, attend your poet's lays,

“ And hear how shEPHERDS pass their

“ golden days, “ Not all are blefl whom fortune's hand sustains * With wealth in courts, nor all that haunt the

plains:

" Welf may your hearts believe the truths I tell ! 'Tis VIRTUE makes the bliss, where'er we dwell.”

Thus selim sung, by sacred TRUTH inspir'd; Nor praise, but such as TRUTH bestow'd, desir’d: Wife in himself, his meaning songs convey'd, Informing morals to the SHEPHERD MAID; Or taught the swains that lurest bliss to find, What groves nor ftreams bestow-aVIRTUOUS MIND.

When sweet and blushing, like a virgin bride, The radiant morn resum'd her orient pride, When wanton gales along the vallies play, Breathe on each flow'r, and bear their sweets away: By TIGRIS' wand'ring ways he fate, and sung This useful lesson for the fair and young:

“ Ye PERSIAN dames," he said, “ to you belong, “ Well may they please, the morals of my song: “ No fairer maids, I trust, than you are found, “ Grac'd with soft arts, the peopled world around! “ The morn that lights you, to your loves supplies “ Each gentler ray, delicious to your eyes : “ For you those flow’rs her fragrant hands bestow, “ And yours the love that kings delight to know. “ Yet think not there, all beaut'ous as they are, “ The best kind blessings heav'n can grant the fair ! " Who trust alone in beauty's feeble ray, “ Boaft but the worth Bassor A's pearls display! Drawn from the deep, we own their surface bright, “ But, dark within, they drink no lustrous light; * Such are the maids, and such the charms they boast; “ By sense unaided, or to VIRTUE lott. “ Self-flatt'ring sex! your hearts believe, in vain, “ That Love shall blind, when once he fires the

« fwain; Or, hope a lover by your faults to win, As spots in ermin beautify the skin: 6. Who leeks secure to rule, be first her care • Each softer VIRTUE that adorns the fair ;

« reign,

“ Each tender passion man delights to find, The lov'd perfections of a female mind!

Blest were the days, when wisdom held her “ And shepherds fought her on the filent plain; “ With truth The wedded in the secret grove; “ Immortal TRUTH! and daughters bless'd their

66 love. “ O hafte, fair maids ! ye virtues come away! « Sweet peace and PLENTY lead you on your way! “ The balmy shrub for you shall love our shore, “ By Ind excell’d, or ARABY, no more.

“ Loft to our fields, for so the fates ordain, “ The dear deserters Thall return again. « Come thou, whose thoughts as limpid springs are

“ clear, « To lead the train, sweet MODESTY, appear: Here make thy court amidst our rural scene, “ And SHEPHERD-GIRLS thall own thee for their

queen. “ With thee be CHASTITY, of all afraid,

Distrusting all, a wise suspicious maid, “ But MAN the most-not more the mountain Dog “ Holds the swift FALCON for her deadly foe. “ Coid is her breast, like flow’rs that drink the dew, “ A tilken veil conceals her from the view; “ No wild defires amidst thy train be known, “ But FAITH, whose heart is fix'd on one alone :

Desponding MEEKNESS, with her down-caft eyes, “ And friendly Pity, full of tender sighs; “ And love the last: by these your hearts approve, “ These are the VIRTUES that must lead to love.

Thus sung the swain; and ancient legends say, The maids of BAGDAT verified the lay : Dear to the plains, the virtues came along; The SHEPHERDS lov’d, and selim bless’d his song.

66

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AUTUMN.

ALAS! with swift and filent pace,

Impatient time rolls on the year; The seasons change, and nature's face

Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe. 'Twas spring, 'twas SUMMER, all was gay,

Now AUTUMN bends a cloudy brow; The flow'rs of Spring are swept away,

And Summer fruits desert the bough. The verdant leaves that play'd on high,

And wanton'd on the western breeze, Now trod in duft neglected lie,

As BOREAs strips the bending trees.
The fields that wav'd with golden grain,

As russet heaths, are wild and bare;
Not moist with dew, but drench'd in rain,

Nor HEALTH, nor PLEASURE, wanders there. No more, while through the midnight-shade,

Beneath the moon's pale orb I ftray, Such pleasing woes my heart invade,

As PROGNE pours the melting lay. From this capricious clime she foars,

O! would some god but wings fupply! To where each morn the SPRING restores,

Companion of her flight I'd fly. Vain wih! me fate compels to bear

The downward seasons' iron reign;
Compels to breathe polluted air,

And liver on a blasted plain.
What bliss to life can AUTUMN yield,

If glooms, and show'rs, and storms prevail;
And Ceres flies the naked field,

And flow'rs, and fruits, and PHOBUS fail?

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