I CHECK'D my sighs,” Antonio cried, At noon reclin'd the stream beside; "A lighter heart my bosom knew, "When last I bade my love adieu!

"For she with soften'd smile declar'd, "A gift for me that she prepar'd, "And, ere the closing week should end, "She vow'd the promis'd gift to send.

"I mark'd the evening leave the skies,
"The night retire, the Sun arise,
"And pleas'd Lcrieda joyless day,
“A tedious night, are worn away!

"Less dull, tho' saddened, was the morn, "Cheerless the day, tho' less forlorn ; "At night, with heart consol'd, I thought "That Lucy's gift to-morrow brought.

"Morn, noon, and evening circled round, "But I no gift from Lucy found;

"Another day my hopes deceiv'd, "No gift from Lucy was receiv'd.

"Rise! loitering Sun, and let me see
"The gift that Lucy sends to me;
"He rose, and ting'd the western main,
"For Lucy's gift I look'd in vain.

"Cease tuneful Lark, at morn I cried,
Thy matin song will Lucy chide;
"Another day-ah! thoughtless maid!
"Why Lucy is thy gift delay'd?

"Soothe Nightingale, with plaintive strain,

"At eve I cried-a lover's pain,

"How long must thus my hopes attend? "She means not sure the gift to send !

"Another day, another night,

"No gift receiv'd—the changeful light
"Of Cynthia fair I sigh'd to view,
"For love I found was changeful too.

"But yesterday, these Willows near, "I mourn'd a fondness too sincere ; "No gift was come to tell my mind "That Lucy's heart was not unkind.

"And now beneath the noontide beam,

"Again I watch the passing stream;
"So passes love, I well may cry-
"In vain for Lucy's gift I sigh."

Cease hapless youth! nor let thy tongue
On Lucy's faith this charge prolong:
Nor thoughtless, nor unkind, the maid
That has so long her gift delay'd.

Who ever shall the truth impart?
Or tell thy fond, thy breaking heart,
That cold and lifeless is the maid

That has so long her gift delay'd.

THE DREAM.

To MRS. - IN A DANGEROUS ILLNess.

Dusan Dream! that hovering in the midnight air, 'd with thy dusky wings my aching head;

magination's startled ear,

slow bell for bright Eliza dead.

Stretch'd on her sable bier, the grave beside,

A snow-white shroud her breathless bosom bound, O'er her wan brow its gather'd folds were tied,

And loves and graces hung their garlands round.

From those closed lips did softest accents flow?
Round that pale mouth the sweetest dimples play?
On this dull cheek the rose of beauty blow?
And these dim eyes diffuse celestial day?

Did this closed hand unasking want relieve,
Or wake the lyre to every rapturous sound?
How sad for other's woe this breast would heave,
How light that heart for other's transport bound!

Beats not the bell again! heavens do I wake!
Why heave my sighs, and gush my tears anew?
Unreal forms my frantic doubts mistake,
And trembling Fancy fears the vision true.

Dream! to Eliza bend thy airy flight,

Go tell my charmer all my tender fears; How love's fond woes alarm the silent night,

And steep my pillow with unpitied tears.

8.

And tell her, Darwent, as you murmur by,
How in these wilds with hopeless love I burn,
Teach your lone vales and echoing caves to sigh,
And mix my briny sorrows in your urn.

WHEN the soft tear steals silently down from the eye,
Take no note of its course, nor detect the slow sigh;
From some spring of soft sorrow its origin flows,
Some tender remembrance that weeps as it goes.

2.

Ah! it is not to say what will bring to the mind,
The joys that are fled, and the friends left behind;
A tune, or a song, or the time of the year,
Strikes the key of reflection, and moans on the ear.

3.

Thro' the gay scenes of youth the remembrancer strays, 'Till mem❜ry steps back on past pleasures to gaze; Fleeting shades they now seem, that glide silent away, The remains of past hours, and the ghosts of each day.