4. Fate will restore thee, Angel, kind and bright 5. The clouds disperse !-our long disastrous love, Trembling beneath pale Ruin's hovering wings, Emerges from their shade! O! may it prove No meteor-fire, that now before us springs, But a mild pole-star to the dear Retreat, 6. On thee to gaze thro' all the Summer's day! AN IMITATION OF HORACE, BOOK 2. ODE 7. THE AUTHOR GOING TO TAKE HIS DEGREE. "O sæpe mecum tempus in ultimum O THOU, in hair-breadth scapes like me, Full oft the light convivial vein To me, impatient for the boon, And yet thy safe return to hail, Be ours my then to shew Due honours at her patron shrine, My richest ripest flask be thine, Then let the warm libation flow To Freedom, Friendship, and the Nine. IMITATED FROM AN ANCIENT GREEK AUTHOR. 1. WITH me the rosy goblet share, With me enjoy the youthful hours, With me caress the frolic fair, With me compose the wreath of flowers! 2. Now drive with me dull thought away, Be merry Thou with Me to day ;- EDMUND L. SWIFT. 1802. LINES, WRITTEN ON AN AUTUMNAL VISIT AT THE VILLA OF A LONG-RESPECTED FRIEND. BY T. PARK, ESQ. REPINING Memory, sometimes, through Sees those, who in Youth's sunny prime Or set in Death's long night! Yet Nature still has means most dear And though poor Life's coëval leaves And not a breeze can blow but drives May the firm few that brave Time's circling blast, Cling to their early stock of Amity more fast! HYMN TO OLD AGE. BY WILLIAM PRESTON, ESQ. FULL many a Bard attunes the string For Youth, and all it loves to bring, It's graceful forms, it's polish'd toys, Delirium sweet, and promis'd joys; All these enchant the tuneful throng, And Youth, the season is for song; Rhyming, 'mid twenty whimsies more, Adds but one folly to the score. But should a Bard in riper age, Chance to retain poetic rage; The sole atonement for his rhyme, Which he can make to slighted time, Is with some monitory lay, To sing the praise of LIFE'S DECAY. Not myrtle bower, not virgin's dream, Not field of combat be my theme. No wreath my sober Muse shall find, For crimes and follies of mankind. Thy praises, Age, command my voice; And let the theme reward my choice. Repress the fiery pride of Youth, Impart the love of moral truth: |