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The gentle Sister, constant Wife,
The parent fond must mourn the strife.
What airy phautoms had I chac'd!
What fond delusions fancy trac'd!
For ever hid in chearless gloom!
Subsided all within the tomb !
To heights ideal I pursu'd

The fair endowments that I view'd,
And saw them win the virtuous praise,
Too rarely sought in modern days.
And sure, the talents of my Son,
In arts and arms the palm had won,
Had Heav'n enlarg'd his narrow span,
To full maturity of man.—
With judgment ripe beyond his age
He turn'd each bright immortal page.
In early youth, the classic hoard
His mind with high conceptions stor'd,
From precept and example brought
By Sages, and by Heroes taught-
He felt the pow'r of lofty rhyme,
To waken thoughts, and aims sublime,
The kindling eye, the conscious breast,
The forms of good and fair confest.
The produce of his youthful vein
Gave earnest of poetic strain,
And true to symmetry and grace,
His eye could just proportion trace
With glance, as rapid as his mind,
While Fancy all he saw combin'd,
And bade his artist hand pourtray
The charms that Nature's works display.
Oh, how unlike the youth we meet,
That croud the theatre and street!

The vain, luxurious, heartless brood,
Without a mark, or likelihood-
By folly harness'd to her car,

The bane of Peace, unapt for War:
He scorn'd the poor pursuits and plays,
The trivial aims of boyish days,
To feel the high heroic flame,
A manly rank with men to claim.
To feel each energy of thought,
For well he wrote, and bravely fought.
He did not live, his course to guide,
By precepts, classic lore supplied;
Yet, nobly prodigal of breath,

He learn'd from them contempt of death.
Scarce conscious where, I listless range,
In change of place, to find no change,
While every smiling cheek I view,
Bids all my sorrows rise anew;
And every face, that happy shows,
Appears to triumph in my woes.
Ev'n objects dearest to my heart,
With ev'ry charmi, a pang impart.
Oft as I see the sun arise

The tear shall glisten in my eyes,
For him, that sought an orient clime,
To perish in the youthful prime,
And fancy still behold thy fall,
And still thy youthful form recall.-
Has life prolong'd her listless dream,
My Son, to make thy death my theme,
To pour
the weak enervate verse,
Unworthy off'ring, on thy hearse?
For me remains the mournful pride,
To think my Son has bravely died,

VOL. III.

That if he fell in youthful prime,
His name was never stain'd with crime.
And happier sure the parent's doom,
Whose Son is honour'd in the tomb,
Than his who mourns a worthless race,
In life continued, for disgrace,
To link dishonour with a name,
And tinge a Father's cheek with shame.

ΤΟ

ON HER APPEARING TO RETIRE FROM A WINDOW.

LADY, a little while remain ;
Unworthier eyes may gaze on thee:

And know, 'twill soothe the heart's sad pain,
Though but awhile thy charms to see.

Alas! what scenes of bliss have fled,
Since first thy peerless smiles I saw;
Reviving else, those scenes are dead,
If thou, ô Once-Belov'd! withdraw.

Like hope, thou beamest from afar

A bright though intermitting ray: I hail thee, beauteous as the star That softly gilds the setting day!

P. L. C.

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'Tis said Love flies;-whence came his wings?

The Boy was born with no such things,

For Innocence wou'd never rove,

And wings were useless then to Love:
Nor did they shoot up as he grew,
For Infancy is fond and true;

Thus, still unfledg'd, he reach'd the age
When tender sighs the heart engage,

For Constancy will ever prove
The sister fair of youthful Love :
But soon as e'er one balmy kiss,
From Chloe's lips, had seal'd his bliss,
And taught his little heart to leap,
The callow points began to peep.
Another kiss!-the callow points
To pinions sprout with downy joints.
Kiss follows kiss!-two days, 'tis said,
Full plumage o'er the pinions spread.
In fine, he talk'd and woo'd so well,
He gain'd much more than I shall tell.
Soon as his power the Urchin knew,
He proudly clapt his wings and flew.

NIGER.

A COLLEGE EXERCISE.

Opening of the Poem-Scenery of the Niger-Distress of Parke whilst travelling to discover its source-Difficult access to the interior of Africa-These difficulties not a sufficient obstacle to the pursuit of the Slave Trade-The misfortunes it entails on the Africans Revenged by the calamities peculiar to the West India Islands-The earthquake of Port Royal-The yellow fever-The war in Domingo-The happiness an introduction of Christianity into Africa would occasion-Conclusion.

STILL is the night, and slow the twilight hours
Throw their dim veil o'er Rhedicyna's tow'rs;
All silent now the tardy waves that glide
Beside her walls, a lucid, sparkling tide,
Save when the light waves tinkle on the shore,
Or echoes regular the dashing oar.

Fair evening star! whose scintillating fires
Silver with paly light these glimmering spires!
Fair star! that walk'st in brightness thro' the sky,
Vast is the scene now bursting on thine eye!
Subject to thee, all earth's wide surface yields,
Spain's citron groves and richly cultur'd fields,

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