Ah! would those happy days return again,
When 'neath your arches, free from every stain,
I heard of guilt and wonder'd at the tale!
Dear haunts! where oft my simple lays I sang,
Listening meanwhile the echoings of my feet,
Lingering I quit you, with as great a pang,
As when ere while, my weeping childhood, torn
By early sorrow from my native seat,

Mingled its tears with hers-my widow'd Parent lorn.

TO THE MUSE.

THO' no bold flights to thee belong;
And tho' thy lays with conscious fear,
Shrink from Judgment's eye severe,
Yet much I thank thee, Spirit of my song!
For, lovely Muse! thy sweet employ
Exalts my soul, refines my breast,
Gives each pure pleasure keener zest,
And softens sorrow into pensive Joy.
From thee I learn'd the wish to bless,
From thee to commune with my heart;
From thee, dear Muse! the gayer part,
To laugh with Pity at the crowds, that press
Where Fashion flaunts her robes by Folly spun,
Whose hues gay varying wanton in the sun.

1789.

WITH FIELDING'S AMELIA.

VIRTUES and Woes alike too great for man
In the soft tale oft claim the useless sigh;
For vain the attempt to realize the plan,
On folly's wings must imitation fly.
With other aim has Fielding here display'd
Each social duty and each social care;
With just yet vivid coloring portray'd

What every wife should be, what many are
And sure the Parent of a race so sweet
With double pleasure on the page shall dwell,
Each scene with sympathizing breast shall meet,
While Reason still with smiles delights to tell
Maternal hope, that her lov'd Progeny
In all but Sorrows shall Amelias be!

ON RECEIVING AN ACCOUNT

THAT HIS ONLY SISTER'S DEATH WAS INEVITABLE.

THE tear which mourn'd a brother's fate scarce dryPain after pain, and woe succeeding woe

Is

my heart destin'd for another blow?

O my sweet sister! and must thou too die?
Ah! how has Disappointment pour'd the tear
O'er infant Hope destroy'd by early frost !

How are ye gone, whom most my soul held dear!

Scarce had I lov'd
you, ere I mourn'd you lost;
Say, is this hollow eye-this heartless pain
Fated to rove thro' Life's wide cheerless plain-
Nor father, brother, sister meets its ken-

My woes, my joys unshar'd! Ah! long ere then
On me thy icy dart, stern Death, be prov'à ;-
Better to die, than live and not be lov'd!

ON SEEING A YOUTH

AFFECTIONATELY WELCOMED BY A SISTER.

I TOO a sister had! too cruel Death! How sad remembrance bids my bosom heave! Tranquil her soul, as sleeping Infant's breath; Meek were her manners as a vernal Eve. Knowledge, that frequent lifts the bloated mind, Gave her the treasure of a lowly breast, And Wit to venom'd Malice oft assign'd, Dwelt in her bosom in a Turtle's nest. Cease, busy Memory! cease to urge the dart; Nor on my soul her love to me impress! For oh I mourn in anguish-and my heart Feels the keen pang, th' unutterable distress. Yet wherefore grieve I that her sorrows cease, For Life was misery, and the Grave is Peace!

THE SAME.

I TOO a sister had, an only sister;

She lov'd me dearly and I doted on her; To her I pour'd forth all my puny sorrows, (As a sick patient in a nurse's arms) ·

And of the heart those hidden maladies

That e'en from Friendship's eye will shrink asham'd. O! I have wak'd at midnight and have wept Because she was not.

PAIN.

ONCE Could the Morn's first beams, the healthful breeze,

All nature charm, and gay was every hour:-
But ah! not Music's self, nor fragrant bower
Can glad the trembling sense of wan disease.
Now that the frequent pangs my frame assail,
Now that my sleepless eyes are sunk and dim,
And seas of pain seem waving through each limb-
Ah what can all Life's gilded scenes avail?
I view the crowd, whom youth and health inspire,
Hear the loud laugh, and catch the sportive lay,
Then sigh and think-I too could laugh and play
And gaily sport it on the Muse's lyre,

Ere Tyrant Pain had chas'd away delight,

Ere the wild pulse throbb'd anguish thro' the night'

LIFE.

As late I journied o'er the extensive plain Where native Otter sports his scanty stream, Musing in torpid woe a sister's pain,

The glorious prospect woke me from the dream.

At every step it widen'd to my sight,

Wood, Meadow, verdant Hill, and dreary Steep. Following in quick succession of delight,

Till all-at once-did my eye ravish'd sweep!

May this (I cried) my course through Life portray! New scenes of wisdom may each step display,

And knowledge open as my days advance! Till what time Death shall pour the undarken'd ray, My eye shall dart thro' infinite expanse, And thought suspended lie in rapture's blissful Trance.

LINES ON AN AUTUMNAL EVENING.

O THOU wild Fancy, check thy wing! No more Those thin white flakes, those purple clouds explore! Nor there with happy spirits speed thy flight Bathed in rich amber-glowing floods of light;