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On leaving Neyland, the residence of the Rev. W. Jones. (The Author returning to London.)

A GRATEFUL pilgrim's fond adieu,
Delightful vales remain with you!
For in life's brief, but weary way,
Ye interpos'd one dear delay.
And now I turn my ling'ring feet,
Once more a noisy world to meet ;
Yet oft with each regretted scene,
The fringed Kills romantic screen;
The distant main; the clear blue sky,
To sooth afflicted Fancy's eye.
O thou, whose varied virtues blend,
"The guide, philosopher, and friend !"
How longs my youth, from passion free,
To dwell the tranquil shades with thee,
Secure in holy lore to find,

The sole nepenthe of the mind!

In vain a different scene I know
Demands me; and prepar'd I go,
Should Truth the prompted soul engage,
To tempt the rude polemic rage;
With Error's giant ranks to close,
And plunge amid conflicting foes.

Me so may some congenial soil
Receive from Day's oppressive toil,
To taste like thee with decent pride,
The christian calm of eventide.

ST. JOHN'S COLL. OXON.

T.

STANZAS

WRITTEN IN THE SPRING.

RETURNING Spring, with gladsome ray,
Adorns the earth, and smooths the deep;
All nature smiles serene and gay,

It smiles, but yet, alas, I weep!
But why, why flows th' unbidden tear?
When Fate such precious boons hath lent;
The lives of those who life endear,

And tho' scarce competence content.

Sure when no other bliss was mine,

But that which still kind Heav'n bestows Yet then could Peace and Hope combine, To promise joy, and give repose: Then have I wander'd thro' the plain, And bless'd each flower that met my view; Thought Fancy's power would ever reign, And Nature's charms be ever new.

I fondly thought where Virtue dwelt
That happy bosom knew no ill;

That those who scorn'd me Time would melt,
And those I lov'd be faultless still :

Enchanting dreams! kind was your art,
That bliss bestow'd without alloy;
Or if soft sadness claim'd a part,

'Twas sadness sweeter far than joy.

Ah! whence the change, that now alarms,
Fills this sad heart and tearful eye;
And conquers the once powerful charms,
Of Youth, of Hope, of Novelty ?
"Tis harsh Experience! fatal power,
That clouds the gay, illumin'd sky;
That darkens life's meridian hour;
And bids each fairy vision fly.

She paints the scene, how different far, From that which youthful Fancy drew; Shows Joy and Prudence oft at war,

Our woes increas'd, our comforts few; See in her train cold Foresight move, Shunning the rose to 'scape the thorn, And Prudence every fear approve, And Pity harden into scorn.

The glowing tints of Fancy fade,

Life's distant prospects charm no more. Alas! are all my hopes betray'd? Ah! what can now my bliss restore? Relentless pow'r! at length be just, Thy better skill alone impart ; Give caution-but withhold distrust,

And guard—but harden not my heart.

THE TEAR.

TO MISS GEDDES.

I TALK'D of the woes of the days that are past-
Of afflictions and trials severe;

How the May-morn of life was with storm overcast,
How the blossoms of hope were all nipt by the blast:
And Beauty sat list'ning to hear.

Of hardships and dangers, and many a wrong,
And of toils that beset me so near,

Of Treachery's snare, and Ingratitude's tongue
I told;-and 'twas pleasant the tale to prolong-
For Beauty repaid with a tear.

Ah! soft form of Beauty that gladdens the soul !
Is aught as thy sympathy dear-

When thy bright-beaming eyes with benignity roll,
When heaves thy full bosom at Pity's controul,
And thy roses are wash'd with a tear?

When dark roll the clouds that o'ershadow our doom, When toils, and when dangers appear,—

When the storm-threat'ning waves all their terrors

assume,

Then the sun-beam of Hope that can break thro' the

gloom,

O Beauty! must shine thro' a tear.

Yes Beauty-thy tear that from sympathy flows,
To Manhood shall ever be dear:

"Tis the balm of all ills, and the cure of all woes; And the heart-rankling wounds of remembrance shall

close

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ONCE on a time, as holy authors* say,

A Roman Knight met Catot on the way;

"Kind Sir," quoth he, "your speedy counsel lend; "Strange portents are abroad, that fright your friend :

"A prodigy I've seen :-last night a rat

"Eat my old shoe-what think you, Sir, of that? "My wife is sick :-and hence I surely spy

"She will recover, or myself will die."

Thus spake the knight, and thus the seer began,
"Your idle fears dispel, and be a man.
"Rats will maraud; and if I augur true,
"Nor death, nor disappointment thence ensue.
"If your old shoe, indeed, had eat the rat,
"I should have thought a prodigy in that."

* St. Augustin.

✦ Cato was one of the College of Augurs.

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