But mourn in vain—his vigorous arm shall fail,
Guilt sink him down, and angry Heav'n prevail ;
No friendly hand to earth his limbs convey,
But dogs and vultures tear the bloated prey !

Yet, ah, fond heart! avert, kind Heaven, the stroke,
My heart denies what trembling lips have spoke.
The varying accents real nature prove,
And only shew how wild a thing is love.
Go, much-lov'd youth! with every blessing crown'd,
And Laura's wishes ever guard thee round.
Me to the silent shades, and fad retreat,
Where love's expiring flames forget their heat,
Death wooes all-powerful: ere he parts the clew,
Once more thy Laura bids her love adieu ;
Bids health and affluence every bliss afford,
Bids thee be lov'd, be happy, and ador'd!
In ease, in mirth, glide each glad hour away ;
No pain to spot thy fortune's cloudless day;
No sigh to swell, no tear to flow for me !
O grant, Heaven, all !—but grant thee constancy !

Yet from my hand this last address receive ;
This last address is all that hand can give.
In vain thy bark with spreading canvas flies,
If these fad lines shall meet thy conscious eyes,
And, taught with winning eloquence to move,
The winds and waters waft the voice of love ;
That voice, (O grant what dying lips implore !)
Alks but one tear from thee, and asks no more!

Then world, farewel! farewel life's fond defires,
False flattering hopes, and love's tormenting fires.
Already, Death, before my closing eyes
Thy airy forms and glimmering Mades arise.
Hark! hear I not for me yon passing bell
Toll forth, with frequent pause, it's sullen knell ?
Waits not for me yon fexton on his spade,
Elithe whistling o'er the grave his toil has roade?

Say,

Say, why yon hearse with fading flowers is crown'd,
AŅd midnight gales the deep-mouth'd dirge resound 2
Hail, fifter worms! and thou my kindred duft,
Secure to you my weary limbs I trust.
Dim burns life's lamp; O Death! thy work compleat,
And give my soul to gain her last retreat.
Such as before the birth of Nature sway'd,
Ere springing light the first Great Word obey'd.
Let filence reign; come, Fate, exert thy might;
And, Darkness, wrap me in eternal night!

ON the banks of the Styx, as a beautiful gholt

,

In resemblance the shade of the Goddess of Love, Was revolving the days when a counters and toast

She flaunted about in the regions above;

News arriv'd, which foon made all Elysium to ring,

That the Fates a great monarch had summon'd to rest, În calling Old England's late father and king

To a crown of reward in the realms of the bl 'da

My lady was vex'd to be robb'd of th’occasion,

By dying before him so mal-a-propos,
Of seeing his royal young heir's coronation,

And making a party herself in the show.

She therefore in haste skipp'd away to the ferry

• Here, Charon! you're empty ; come, take over me ; • I'm resolv'd to go back to the world in your wherry,

• The only fine fight I e'er miss'd of, to see.'

Old Charon most civilly bow'd to my lady;

Stepp'd out of his wherry, and handed her in ; But finding the wanted a pafs, was as ready

Her ladyship roughly to turn out again.

Then sudding away to the court in a hurry,

Direct, for a passport, tu Pluto she ran ; And put Madam Proserpine into a furry,

Who thought Ihe was come to seduce her good man.

Gloomy Dis grimly smild at the lady's request,

But more at her whimsical motive and reason; And, having malignly a mind for a jest,

Represented her suit as a thing out of season.

• I cannot,' said he, • lady fair,' with a frown,

Indulge ev'ry ghost in it's wanton desire ; • But if for their fakes wife or husband come down,

• I then might restore the fond fouls they require.

. Since Orpheus, however, in risque of his life,

• Long ago made us ftare with his musick and passion, « Not a soul hath come down, or for husband or wife ; . So that journies of this kind are quite out of fashion.

a

! Yet, as you're a beauty, the favour I grant ye ;

• But wherefore again should you covet on earth, « To mix with a crowd, that perhaps only want ye

• To make you the theme of impertinent mirth?

• Befides,

• Besides, pretty lady, you're greatly mistaken,

* If pleasure you promise yourself in the fight; • For, unseen by your friends, by admirers forsaken,

« There's none will regard an impalpable sprite.'

• Nay, nay! quoth the countess, if that be the case,

• Take your paffport again ; I'll have no more chagrin : ? A fig for fine fights, if unseen one's fine face!

" What signifies seeing, if one is not seen!'

THE CONTENTED PHILOSOPHER,

BY THE REV. MR. CUNNINGHAME.

D

EEP filence reign'd, and dewy Night

Her silver vestment wore ;
The western gale breath'd calm delight,

And busy day was o'er ;

To hail Reflection's hour I rose,
Each throbbing care at reft ;

;
For sacred Peace in mild repose

Had lylld my anxious breast,

The breezy mount, the misty vale,

Alternately I stray'd ;
The Gothick spire, the lonely cell,

My wandering eye survey'd :

Till, where the trembling beams of night

O’er limpid currents play'd,
Meandering-fix'd my roving fight

On deep Retirement's shade.

The unambitious dome, conceal'd,

Fear'd no intrusive foes ;
From deep-embowering trees reveal'd

The feat of calm repose.

'Twas Sophron's grove, an aged fire,

Who, vers'd in Wisdom's lore, Now tun'd his confecrated lyre,

To clofe the silent hour.

The hallow'd strain inflam'd my breast,

I gain’d the rustick cell;
The courteous father bless'd his guet,

Then gave th' instructive tale.

How false the aim of erring life !

• How fruitless the employ! « That treads the pompous maze of ftrifey

• In quet of folid joy!

. The plumy tribes unceasing roam,

Each verdant bough survey; * But fix at last their leafy home,

« Where silence wooes their fay :

• Where no alarming hinds invade,

• No fear their peace destroys; • Remote in the fequefter'd fhade,

• They rear their callow joys.

• Thus restless Nature loves to range,

! Thro’ life's gay scenes to rove; « Till Reason prompts the happier change,

• To Contemplation's grove !

( When