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Then gold I find for thee once more,
For thee to fields for flow'r depart:
To please de idol I adore,

And give wid gold and flow'r my heart.

Den let we die and haste away,

And live in groves of Domahay.

Peter Pindar.

AN IMITATION FROM THEOCRITUS.

WHEN Snows descend, and robe the fields

In Winter's bright array;

Touch'd by the sun, the lustre fades,
And weeps itself away.

When Spring appears, when violets blow
And shed a rich perfume;

How soon the fragrance breathes its last!
How short-liv'd is the bloom!

Fresh in the morn, the Summer rose
Hangs withering ere 'tis noon;
We scarce enjoy the balmy gift,

But mourn the pleasure gone.

With gliding fire, an ev'ning star
Streaks the Autumnal skies;
Shook from the sphere, it darts away,
And, in an instant, dies.

Such are the charms that flush the cheek,
And sparkle in the eye;

So from the lovely finish'd form

The transient graces fly.

To this the seasons, as they roll,
Their attestation bring:

They warn the fair; their ev'ry round
Confirms the truth I sing.

Hervey.

STANZAS.

FORM'D for boundless bliss! Immortal soul, Why dost thou prompt the melancholy sigh, While ev'ning shades disclose the glowing pole, And silver moon-beams tremble o'er the sky?

These glowing stars shall fade, this moon shall fall,
This transitory sky shall melt away,

Whilst thou, triumphantly surviving all,
Shall glad expatiate in eternal day.

Sickens the mind with longings vainly great,

To trace mysterious wisdom's sacred ways; While chain'd and bound, in this ignoble state,

Humbly it breathes sincere, imperfect praise?

Or glows the beating heart with sacred fires,
And longs to mingle in the worlds of love?
Or, foolish trembler, feeds its fond desires

Of earthly good? Or dreads life's ills to prove?

Back does it trace the flight of former years,

The friends lamented, and the pleasures past? Or, wing'd with fore-cast vain, and impious fears, Presumptuous to the cloud-hid future haste?

Hence, far be gone, ye fancy-fondled pains; Peace, trembling heart, be every sigh supprest: Wisdom supreme, eternal goodness reigns,

Thus far is sure, to Heaven resign the rest.

Mrs. C. Talbot's Essays.

THE AFRICAN BOY:

AH! tell me, little mournful Moor,
Why still you linger on the shore ?
Haste to your play-mates, haste away,
Nor loiter here with fond delay;

When morn unveil'd her radiant eye, You hail'd me as I wander'd by; Returning, at th' approach of eve, Your meek salute I still receive. Benign enquirer, thou shalt know Why here my lonesome moments flow: 'Tis said, thy countrymen (no more Like rav'ning sharks that haunt the shore) Return to bless, to raise, to cheer, And pay compassion's long arrear. 'Tis said the numerous captive train, Late bound by the degrading chain, Triumphant come with swelling sails, 'Mid smiling seas and western gales; They come, with festive heart and glee, Their hands unshackled-minds as free; They come, at mercy's great command, To repossess their native land. The gales that o'er the ocean stray, And chase the waves in gentle play, Methinks they whisper as they fly, JUELLEN SOON will meet thine eye. 'Tis this that sooths her little son, Blends all his wishes into one! Ah! were I clasp'd in her embrace, I would forgive her past disgrace; Forgive the memorable hour She fell a prey to tyrant pow'r;

Forgive her lost, distracted air,

Her sorrowing voice, her kneeling pray'r;
The suppliant tears that gall'd her cheeks,
And last, her agonizing shrieks:

Lock'd in her hair a ruthless hand,
Trail'd her along the flinty strand;
A ruffian train, with clamours rude,
The impious spectacle pursu'd;
Still as she mov'd, in accents mild
She cry'd aloud-My child! My child!
The lofty bark she now ascends,
With screams of woe the air she rends;
The vessel less'ning from the shore,
Her piteous wails I heard no more:
Now, as I stretch'd my last survey,
Her distant form dissolv'd away.
That day is past--I cease to mourn-
Succceding joy shall have its turn :
Beside the hoarse resounding deep,
A pleasing anxious watch I keep;
For when the morning cloud shall break,
And darts of day the darkness streak,
Perchance along the glitt'ring main,
Oh! may this hope not throb in vain,
To meet these long desiring eyes,
JUELLEN and the sun may rise!

Cowper.

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