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Dear native brook! where first young Poesy
Star'd wildly-eager in her noontide dream,
Where blamelese Pleasures dimple Quiet's cheek,
As water-lilies ripple thy slow stream!
Dear native haunts ! where Virtue still is gay:
Where Friendship’s fix'd star sheds a mellow'd ray;
Where Love a crown of thornless Roses wears :
Where soften'd Sorrow smiles within her tears;
And Mem'ry, with a Vestal's chaste employ,
Unceasing feeds the lambent flame of joy !
No more your sky-larks melting from the sight
Shall thrill th' attuned heart-string with delight-
No more shall deck your pensive Pleasures sweet
With wreaths of sober hue my evening seat.
Yet dear to Fancy's eye your varied scene
Of wood, hill, dale, and sparkling brook between!
Yet sweet to Fancy's ear the warbled song,
That soars on Morning's wing your vales among.
Scenes of my Hope! the aching eye ye leave
Like yon bright hues that paint the clouds of eve!
Tearful and sad'ning with the sadden'd blaze
Mine eye the gleam pursues with wistful gaze.
Sees shades on shades with deeper tint impend,
Till chill and damp the moonless night descend.
IN THE MANNER OF SPENCER.
O PEACE, that on a lilied bank dost love
To rest thine head beneath an Olive Tree,
I would, that from the pinions of thy Dove
One quill withouten pain ypluck'd might be.
For O! I wish my Sara's frowns to flee,
And fain to her some soothing song would write,
Lest she resent my rude discourtesy,
Who vow'd to meet her ere the morning light,
But broke my plighted word-ah! false and recreant
Last night as I my weary head did pillow
With thoughts of my dissevered Fair engrossid,
Chill Fancy droop'd wreathing herself with willow,
As tho' my breast entomb'd a pining ghost.
“ From some blest couch, young Rapture's bridal
Rejected Slumber! hither wing thy way;
But leave me with the matin hour, at most!
As night-clos'd flowret to the orient ray,
My sad hart will expand, when I the Maid survey."
But Love, who “ heard the silence of my thought,"
Contriv'd a too successful wile, I ween :
And whisper'd to himself, with malice fraught-
“ Too long our Slave the Damsel's smiles hath seen ;
To-morrow shall he ken her alter'd mien!”
He spake, and ambush'd lay, till on my bed
The Morning shot her dewy glances keen,
When as I 'gan uplift my drowsy head-
Now, Bard ! I'll work thee woe!” the laughing Elfin
Sleep, softly-breathing God! his downy wing
Was flutt'ring now, as quickly to depart;
When twang'd an arrow from Love's mystic string,
With pathless wound it pierc'd him to the heart.
Was there some Magic in the Elfin's dart ?
Or did he strike my couch with wizard lance ?
For strait so fair a Form did upwards start
(No fạirer deck'd the Bowers of old Romance) That Sleep enamour'd grew, nor mov'd from his sweet
My Sara came, with gentlest look divine ;
Bright shone her eye, yet tender was its beam :
I felt the pressure of her lip to mine!
Whisp'ring we went, and Love was all our theme-
Love pure and spotless, as at first, I deem,
He sprang from Heaven! Such joys with Sleep did ’bide,
That I the living Image of my dream
Fondly forgot. Too late I woke, and sigh’d-
"O! how shall I behold my Love at even-tide!"
THE COMPOSITION OF A KISS.
Cupid, if storying * Legends tell aright,
Once fram’d a rich elixir of delight.
A Chalice o'er love-kindled flames he fix'd,
And in it nectar and ambrosia mix'd .
*“Effinxit quondam blandum meditata laborem
Basia lascivâ Cypria Diva manâ.
Ambrosiæ succos occultâ temperat arte,
Fragransque infuso nectare tingit opus.
Sufficit et partem mellis, quod subdolus olim
Non impune favis surripuisset Amor.
Decussos violæ foliis admiscet odores
Et spolia æstivis plurima rapta rosis.
Addit et illecebras et mille et mille lepores,
Et quot Acidalius guadia Cestus habet.
Ex his composuit Dea basia ; et omnia libans
Invenias nitidæ sparsa per ora Cloës ”
Carm. Quad. l'ol. II.
With these the magic dews, which Evening brings,
Brush'd from the Idalian star by fairy wings:
Each tender pledge of sacred Faith he join'd,
Each gentler pleasure of th' unspotted mind-
Day-dreams, whose tints with sportive brightness glow,
And Hope, the blameless parasite of Woe.
The eyeless Chemist heard the process rise,
The steamy chalice bubbled up in sighs;
Sweet sounds transpir’d, as when the enamour'd dove
Pours the soft murm’ring of responsive love.
The finish'd work might Envy vainly blame,
And “ Kisses” was the precious compound's name.
With half the God his Cyprian mother blest,
And breath'd on Sara's lovelier lips the rest,
An cease thy tears and sobs, my little Life!
I did but snatch away the unclasp'd knife:
Some safer toy will soon arrest thine eye
And to quick laughter change this peevish cry!
Poor stumbler on the rocky coast of Woe,
Tutor'd by Pain each source of pain to know !
Alike the foodful fruit and scorching fire,
Or rouse thy screams or wake thy young desire:
Yet art thou wise, for 'mid thy brief alarms
Thou closely clingest to thy Mother's arms,
Nestling thy little face in that fond breast
Whose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest!
Man's breathing miniature ! thou mak’st me sigh-
A Babe art thou-and such a thing am I!
ON THE CHRISTENING OF A FRIEND's child. 75
To anger rapid, and as soon appeas'd,
For trifles mourning and by trifles pleas’d,
Break friendship's mirror with a fretful blow
Yet snatch what coals of fire on Pleasure's altar glow!
O thou that rearest with celestial aim
The future Seraph in my mortal frame,
Thrice holy Faith! whatever thorns I meet
As on I totter with unpractis'd feet,
Still let me stretch my arms and cling to thee,
Meek Nurse of souls thro’ their long infancy!
ON THE CHRISTENING OF A FRIEND'S CHILD.
This day among the faithful plac'd
And fed with fontal manna ;
O with maternal title grac'd
Dear Anna's dearest Anna!
While others wish thee wise and fair,
A maid of spotless fame,
I'll breathe this more compendious prayer-
May'st thou deserve thy name!
Thy Mother's name, a potent spell,
That bids the Virtues hie
From mystic grove and living cell,
Confess’d to Fancy's eye ;
Meek Quietness without offence;
Content in homespun kirtle ;
True Love; and True Love's Innocence,
White blossom of the myrtle!