Contented with her own. But every day her name I'll bless, SONG BY A WOMAN. Each day, each hour, her name I'll bless, MAN SPEAKER. The hardy veteran after struck the sight, But every danger felt before, The raging deep, the whirlwind's roar, Oh, let me fly a land that spurns the brave, SONG. BY A MAN-BASSO SPIRITUOSO. Old Edward's sons, unknown to yield, For thine and Britain's wrongs they feel, WOMAN SPEAKER. In innocence and youth complaining, 'The garland of beauty' ('tis thus she would say,) 'No more shall my crook or my temples adorn, I'll not wear a garland, Augusta's away, I'll not wear a garland until she return: came. But ever, for ever, her image shall last, 3 These lines altered from Collins's Ode on the Death of Col. Ross. I'll strip all the spring of its earliest bloom; On her grave shall the cowslip and primrose be cast, And the new-blossom'd thorn shall whiten her tomb.' SONG. BY A WOMAN-PASTORALE. With garlands of beauty the queen of the May No more will her crook or her temples adorn; For who'd wear a garland when she is away, When she is remov'd, and shall never return. On the grave of Augusta these garlands be plac'd, tomb. CHORUS-ALTRO MODO. On the grave of Augusta this garland be plac'd, We'll rifle the spring of its earliest bloom, And there shall the cowslip and primrose be cast, And the tears of her country shall water her tomb. 4. Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring.' Collins's Dirge in Cymbeline. LINES ATTRIBUTED TO DR. GOLDSMITH, INSERTED IN THE MORNING CHRONICLE OF APRIL 3, 1800. E'EN have you seen, bath'd in the morning dew, The budding rose its infant bloom display: When first its virgin tints unfold to view, It shrinks, and scarcely trusts the blaze of day. So soft, so delicate, so sweet she came, Youth's damask glow just dawning on her cheek; I gaz'd, I sigh'd, I caught the tender flame, Felt the fond pang, and droop'd with passion weak. THE FOLLOWING POEMS HAVE NEVER BEEN INCORPORATED WITH THE PRECEDING ONES OF GOLDSMITH. (See Citizen of the World, ii. 87). It is the business of the stage poet to watch the appearance of every new player at his own house, and so come out next day with a flaunting copy of newspaper verses. In these nature and the actor may be set to run races, the player always coming off victorious: or nature may mistake him for herself; or old Shakespeare may put on his winding sheet, and pay him a visit, or the tuneful Nine may strike up their harps in his praise; or should it happen to be an actress, Venus, the beauteous Queen of Love, and the naked graces, are ever in waiting. The lady must be herself a goddess bred and born; she must but you shall have a specimen of one of these poems, which may convey a more precise idea. ON SEEING MRS. * PERFORM IN THE CHARACTER OF FOR you, bright fair, the Nine address their lays, |