"Tis then, in misty woods entranc'd to rove, He flies the frolics of the noisy hall,
Where jolly-hearted HUMOUR laughs with all,
And, near the murmurs of some falling stream,
Pursues the image of his witching dream,
Sickens in thought, and languishes with love.
Oft in the evening's melancholy shade
He haunts the footsteps of his darling maid,
And hopes and fears, by young Desires led,
To steal the promised kiss with rapturous dread;
Yet all in vain—the dear delusion's o'er,
Till passion urge him to the suit once more.
Soul of myself, 'tis thus my fears conceal
That poignant wound my brimming eyes reveal ;,
Known, yet unseen, I follow in thy train,
Or near thy chamber window pour the strain,
Which idly whispers of my ceaseless sigh,
Although you slumber at its lullaby.
Most surely, love, I cannot be to blame
To spend my leisure moments at thy side,
In whom such graces as my pencil paints,
Are heightened by the purity of Saints,
Free from the tinges of caprice or pride.
Oh! no, to such Divinity as thee
To offer incense, or to bend the knee,
Is not idolatry, nor shame!
And yet I have been laugh'd to scorn
For wasting thus my short and precious morn,
Rather than learn the task assign'd
By RIGOUR with his stern precisive care;
Or with PHILOSOPHY in Spring prepare
To reap the golden harvest of the Mind.
OCHEARFULNESS! celestial Queen,
Of sparkling eye, and easy mien ;
Whether in bow'r or hall,
Where coyly-wanton Beauty wounds,
Where music breathes impassion'd sounds,
Thou smil'st, to thee I call.
Tho' Love my cup of pleasure sours,
And stops the too-too lagging hours;
If thou, heart-easing fair,
Once deign to grace my lonely roof,
Pale fac'd Dejection keeps aloof,
And Sorrow melts to air.
In vain the Bacchanalian crew
Thee mild with wine and roses woo,
Το grace their orgies wild;
Where laughs Debauch, where Riot sings,
Thou fly'st the rout on equal wings,
Thou Health and Virtue's child.
Author of the "SUGAR CANE," &c. &c.
Let shy Suspicion seek the glade,
Of social intercourse afraid,
Inwrapp'd in double gloom;
See Cacodæmons rule the skies,
At every step see terrors rise,
And yell his dismal doom.
Tho' sunny Afric own'd my sway,
And in my stores Potosi lay,
Each craving wish supply'd;
Unless thou com'st, Euphrosyne,
And bring'st thy nurse, Content, with thee, "Twere irksome all beside.
In vain I importune the Nine
Around my brows their wreaths to twine,
To strike the Tean lyre ;
My blood without thee anxious flows,
Nor fit nor just my judgment knows,
My fancy feels no fire.
Regret and mopish bodings fly,
Enliv'ning Queen, when thou art by,
Chagrin nor dares to stay;
Rash Suicide lets fall the bowl,
Fond Expectation warms the soul,
And whispers," Be thou gay."
In vain foul Vice assumes thy mien,
Alone fair Virtue smiles serene,
Serene, tho' Kings disgrace;
The thorns that goad the villain's breast, The secret dread that breaks his rest, Bely the vizor'd face.
Let dire eccentric comets glare,
Let fire-ey'd plague infect the air,
Let earthquakes rock the ground;
No sunk despondency repines,
No cavil taxes God's designs,
Where thou, Divine, art found.
Blithe Hope, in amice green array'd,
And meek-ey'd Peace that wooes the glade,
Thy genuine offspring are;
Thou paint'st with purpler streaks the dawn,
Thou tint'st with brighter bredes the lawn,
And fairer mak'st the fair;
For, if not fabulous my lore,
Thou art the magic zone she wore,
She, Queen of wreathed smiles! By thee she fix'd in ev'ry heart The pleasurably-painful dart,
From thee she stole her wiles.
If, with thy sweetly-winning ray,
Thou gild'st the close of life's decay,
Old age has pow'r to charm;
Without thee, Goddess debonnaire!
Not youth, not breathing youth is fair,
No gazer's breast can warm,
Wherever, Queen, thou deign'st to go,
Fruits hang, flow'rs bud, clear streamlets flow,
The echoing banks between;
Mild vernal airs around thee throng,
And all is sun, and all is song,
And all fair fresh'ning green.
Staid pleasures in thy presence wait,
Superior thou to frowns of fate,
To fretful Hymen's chains;
Thou art Religion's genuine look,
Thou art Philosophy's rebuke,
That wins while it restrains.
O Chearfulness! thy steady beam
By far outshines Mirth's transient gleam;
Mirth, Mourning's firm ally!
Rash apish Folly is his guide,
Wisdom is ever at thy side,
And chaste Hilarity.
Alas! I court thy smiles in vain,
Love throbs with keener, fonder pain,
While Mem'ry paints the past;
Yet, Chearfulness, I'd not forego
This pleasing anxious sense of woe,
For all the joys thou hast.
HERE rots the son of meanness and of pride,
Who liv'd unlov'd, and unlamented died.
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