"No longer from thy window look, "Thou hast no son, thou tender mother! "No longer walk thou lovely maid! 66 Alas, thou hast no more a brother! "No longer seek him east or west, "And search no more the forest thorough; "For, wandering in the night so dark, "He fell a lifeless corse in Yarrow. "The tear shall never leave my cheek, “And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow." The tear did never leave her cheek, No other youth became her marrow; She found his body in the stream, And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow. O D E. On the Death of a young Lady. THE peace of Heaven attend thy shade, Ah, with what joy did I behold The flower of beauty fair unfold, And fear'd no storm to blast thy bloom, Untimely gone! for ever fled Alas! the cheek where beauty glow'd, And dust to dust' the mourner cries. O, from thy kindred early torn, Fair with my first ideas twined, And, while remembrance brings thee near, Affection sad will drop a tear. How oft does sorrow bend the head, Before we dwell among the dead! Scarce in the years of manly prime, What tragick tears bedew the eye! No after-friendship e'er can raise Affection dies, a vernal flower, And love, the blossom of an hour; The spring of fancy cares controul, And mar the beauties of the soul. Versed in the commerce of deceit, Then lovely nature is expell'd, And friendship is romantick held : The veil is rent-the vision flies. The dear illusions will not last; The sallies of the soul are o'er, The feast of fancy is no more; And ill the banquet is supplied Ye Gods! whatever ye withhold, Still may the generous bosom burn, Though doom'd to bleed o'er beauty's urn; Though moisten'd with a tender tear. THE CUCKOO. HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove! Thou messenger of spring! Now heaven repairs thy rural seat, And woods thy welcome sing. 6 What time the daisy decks the green, ⚫ Thy certain voice we hear; Hast thou a star to guide thy path, Or mark the rolling year? Delightful visitant! with thee I hail the time of flowers, And hear the sound of musick sweet From birds among the bowers. The school-boy, wandering through the wood To pull the primrose gay, Starts, the new voice of spring to hear, And imitates thy lay. What time the pea puts on it's bloom Thou fliest the vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another spring to hail. Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year! Ob could I fly, I'd fly with thee! |