Flow'rs may adorn the flatt'ring way,
Where folly leads the wifh aftray;
But flow'rs conceal the faithless fnare,
And fall'n, we strive with fruitless care,
To free our captive feet.

ASON G.

By METASTASI O.

IS hard to fay, Barbarian, if thy breaft
With Pity's pow'r or Reafon's is unbleft.
Could't thou that ruthlefs face of thine furvey,
What confcious horror would thy bosom fway!

Not the rude bear, that feels the baneful wound,
On her rough breast diffuse its torments round;
Not the dire fnake amidfl unceafing pain,
That heedlefs feet have crush'd along the plain;
Not the ftern lion, dreadful in his glare,
Whose op'ning claws to seize their prey prepare;
Nor e'en the tyger, furious and forlorn,
Doom'd its lov'd offspring's heavy loss to mourn;
In their grim looks a gloomy fierceness wear,
Which can with that, difclos'd by thine, compare.

A

SONETT O.

O

Del Silenzio figlio, e della notte,

Padre di vaghe imaginate forme,

Sonno gentil, per le cui tacit' orme

Son l' Alme al ciel d' amor fpeffo condotte.

Or ch' in grembo alle lievi ombre interrotte
Ogni cor (fuor che 'l mio) riposa e dorme
L'Erebo ofcuro al mio penfier conforme
Lafcia ti prego, e le cimerie grotte,

E vien' col dolce tuo tranquillo oblìo,

E col bel volto, in ch'io mirar m' appago

A confolar il vedovo desìo.

Che fe 'n te la fembianza, onde fon vago

Non m' è dato goder, godrò pur io

Della notte, che bramo, almen l'imago.

CAN.

A SONNET.

HOU gentle fon of Silence, and of Night!

THO

Father of Fancy's bright ideal train!

Sleep! by whofe pathless footsteps gliding light
Enamour'd fouls their love's high heav'n obtain ;

Now that deep funk beneath thy friendly fhade,

All hearts, but mine, are in thy bands confin'd,
Quit thy Cimmerian grots, too truly made
The dark resemblance of my gloomy mind!

Come! with thy calm Oblivion to my aid,

And with thee bring the image of the maid,
Whose fight alone so loft a wretch can save;

But if that form my flumbers may not bless,
Yet fly not thou; that I may ftill poffefs
At least the image of that death I crave.

ASON G.

By METASTASI O.

To NECESSITY.

Y thee midst fields of wild affray,

BY

Clos'd are the warrior's eyes in fleep

By thee infpir'd, the failor blythe and gay,
Loud carols, as his bark rolls o'er the deep;
Death has no terrors left when thou art near,

Nor to the grave remains its pale attendant, Fear.

The tame, unwarlike, trembling beaft,

By Nature form'd for fear and flight,

At thy command, within his breaft

Feels genuine courage glow, and dares the fight.