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SPOKEN BY MRS. WOODHAM, NOV. 2, 1807,
THE scenic fictions done, my task is o'er,
“Two years on wings of down have scarce
Since first I trod your hospitable shore,
bosoms found a place of rest.
These are sweet joys, that have too quickly
flown, And now once more into the world I'm
thrown; * As some poor bird, who's mate stern fate
has maim'd, Flies from the covey 'till its strength's re
gain’d; And in seclusion passes the dull hours, 'Till health shall kindly renovate its powers : So I, by conjugal affection borne, Am with my mate from your protection torn.
Alluding to Mr. Woodham's illness, which occasioned her leaving Baltimore.
But when the gay return of rosy spring,
And now my friends farewell, a short fare
well, May peace, joy, happiness amongst you dwell; May you !_but oh, I cannot now reveal, The soft emotions I this moment feel.Farewell my friends -perhaps a last adieuBut oh, this heart will ever think of you.
WHEN lovely spring, with smiling train,
Fresh cloth'd each plain and tree;
Along the banks of Dee.
Sat love with mirth and glee,
All sadness seem'd to flee.
She said, young stranger, whither stray'st,
Is't sadness to beguile,
To court fair pleasure's smile.
And bliss on bliss would'st pile ; Ne'er quit the substance for the shade,
But catch each joy the while,
The sun, that now with lustre decks,
The dew drops on the spray,
Fresh gracing and more gay.
New joys within them burn;
child of nature owns,
O man! why waste thy youthful days
In sorrow, sadness, grief?
Sweet mirth will find relief.
Let pleasure give a turn;
Man ne'er was made to mourn.