On the leaf of beech and willow;
On the lake and sleepy billow-
Rouse thee, slumberer, from thy pillow!
Human life is but a day!
Gay its morn! but short as gay!
Day of evil! day of sorrow!
Hope, even hope, can point no morrow!
Steeped in sloth, or passions boiling,
Noon shall find thee faint and toiling!
Evening rears her mantle dreary—
Evening finds thee pale and weary!
Prospects blasted, aims misguided,
For the future ill provided;
Murmuring, worn, enfeebled, shaking,
Days of sorrow, nights of waking.
Yield thy soul unto the giver!
Bow thy head, and sleep for ever!
But rise up, now! to work betake thee!
Wake thee! drowsy slumberer! wake thee!
BENEATH a myrtle Cupid lay,
His eyelids drown'd in sleep's soft dew, When Dora, passing by that way,
His quiver seiz'd, and strait withdrew. Hence the fair artist's drawing charms, Her slightest sketches fire our hearts: The nymph, possess'd of Cupid's arms, Sports with our fate, and draws with darts.
20TH ODE OF THE 3D BOOK OF HORACE
TRANSLATED INTO THE SAPPHIC METRE.
Do not you see more perilous a combat,
Than of her young yon lioness to plunder,
Waits ye? full soon your insolence dismay'd, will
shun the destruction.
Thro' the surrounding populace she rushes,
Fierce to protect her elegant Nearchus :
Long is your conflict, difficult the toil that
He, the meanwhile, your recompense and umpire, While ye send forth your javelins in combat, Rends the light blooming coronal, and smiling
treads on the palm-branch,
Fans his soft ringlets redolent of perfume,
While the fresh breeze plays amorous around him,
Fairer than Nireus, or the boy convey'd from
Sent to the Honourable Miss Murray*, with a Bloodstone Broach; as a Bridal Present, by her Grandfather.
LET thy fond lover bring, sweet girl,
The diamond sheen, th' unsullied pearl;
Let bridal maids from wintry bower
Call blushing rose and myrtle flower,
And every nuptial bud that, blows
Gay flaunting mid green Albyn's snows;
I send, not I, one glittering prize,
To pine outshone by Charlotte's eyes;
I send, not I, one flowery wreath
To fade at Charlotte's sweeter breath.
Things of an hour! their glories fly
Like tints that on a bubble die;
Or like the painted dust that springs.
On the gay moth's resplendent wings;
Or like the evening's rosy streak;
Or frailer Beauty's blushing cheek.
Far be from thee the fragile joy
An hour can give, an hour destroy!
And different far my simple toy:"
Fit offering for a highland maid !
A broach to clasp thy silken plaid.
*Now the lady of General Oswald.
A simple toy! yet may it prove
A spell to shield the child I love!
Each bliss in that dear breast to guard!
Each feeling soothe, each evil ward!
And while its spotted surface shows
Refulgent on thy bosom's snows,
May never direr pressure pain,
May never dearer blood-drops stain,
Nor care, nor woe, nor ill betide
The highland flower, the hero's bride!
FROM THE FRENCH OF QUINAULT.
REIGN here, sweet sleep! o'er all extend thy reign;
Here shed thy drowsiest poppies round:
The senses calm; calm every care and pain;
And wrap each heart in peace profound.
Flow ye pellucid streams; but as ye flow
Let no rude wave a clamour make ;
For nought save your clear waters, murmuring low,
The silence of this spot may break.
WHAT IS BEAUTY? THE QUESTION. INSCRIBED TO LUCY IRWIN. BY EYLES IRWIN, ESQ. 1809.
WHAT is beauty? Muses! tell us,
For your votaries' credit jealous.
Be the charm confin'd to sight,
Artist! bring it quick to light.
By the pencil's roseate test,
Azure eye, and snowy breast:
By the chisel's waving line,
Faultless form, and air divine:
Traits, which all of mortal giving,
In TITIAN'S works, and PHIDIAS' living!
Be the spell by numbers bound,
Poet! all its marvels sound.
Thou! or Fancy can conceive
More, than reasoning minds believe;
Of ambush'd loves and speaking graces,
Such as old GREECE in VENUS traces;
Can estimate the mental mine,!
Where rival gems in contrast shinet
Here, Modesty, of ruby dies,
There, opal Genius, changeful, flies;
And emerald Truth, whose native rays
Unite with Virtue's brilliant blaze:
Tho' these, and more, attest her reign,
Will Beauty grace the Poet's strain ++ r
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