His young ones were killed; for they could not depart,

And their mother did die of a broken heart.

The boughs from the trunk the Woodman did sever; And they floated it down on the course of the river. They sawed it in planks, and its bark they did strip, And with this tree and others they made a good ship. The ship, it was launched; but in sight of the land Such a storm there did rise as no ship could withstand.

It bulged on a rock, and the waves rushed in fast: Round and round flew the Raven, and caw'd to the blast. He heard the last shriek of the perishing soulsSee! See! o'er the topmast the mad water rolls!

Right glad was the Raven, and off he went fleet, And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet, And he thank'd him again and again for this treat : They had taken his all, and Revenge it was sweet!

ABSENCE.

A FAREWELL ODE, ON QUITTING SCHOOL FOR
JESUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

HERE graced with many a classic spoil

WE

Cam rolls his reverend stream along,

I haste to urge the learned toil

That sternly chides my love-lorn song:
Ah me! too mindful of the days

Illumed by Passion's orient rays,

When Peace, and Cheerfulness, and Health
Enriched me with the best of wealth.

Ah fair Delights! that o'er my soul
On Memory's wing, like shadows, fly!

Ah Flowers! which Joy from Eden stole
While Innocence stood smiling by!—
But cease, fond Heart! this bootless moan:
Those Hours on rapid Pinions flown
Shall yet return, by Absence crowned,
And scatter livelier roses round.

The Sun who ne'er remits his fires

On heedless eyes may pour the day;
The Moon, that oft from Heaven retires,
Endears her renovated ray.

What though she leave the sky unblest
To mourn awhile in murky vest?
When she relumes her lovely Light,
We bless the Wanderer of the Night.

FAREWELL parental scenes! a sad farewell!
To you my grateful heart still fondly clings,
Tho' fluttering round on Fancy's burnished wings
Her tales of future Joy Hope loves to tell.
Adieu, adieu! ye much loved cloisters pale!
Ah! would those happy days return again,
When 'neath your arches, free from every stain,
I heard of guilt and wondered 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 widowed Parent
lorn.

TO THE MUSE.

THOUGH no bold flights to thee belong; And though 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 learned 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 displayed
Each social duty, and each social care;
With just yet vivid coloring portrayed

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 loved Progeny

In all but Sorrows shall Amelias be!

ON RECEIVING AN ACCOUNT

THAT HIS ONLY SISTER'S DEATH WAS INEVITABLE.

THE

HE tear which mourned a brother's fate scarce
dry-

Pain after pain, and woe succeeding woe-
Is my heart destined for another blow?

O my sweet sister! and must thou too die?
Ah! how has Disappointment poured the tear
O'er infant Hope destroyed by early frost!
How are ye gone, whom most my soul held dear!
you, ere I mourned you lost;
Say, is this hollow eye-this artless pain.
Fated to rove through Life's wide cheerless plain—
Nor father, brother, sister meets its ken—

Scarce had I loved

My woes, my joys unshared! Ah! long ere then On me, thy icy dart, stern Death, be proved;— Better to die, than live and not be loved!

ON SEEING A YOUTH

AFFECTIONATELY WELCOMED BY A SISTER.

I TOO a sister had! too cruel death!

How sad remembrance bids my bosom heavc! 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 assigned,
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!

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 chased away delight,

Ere the wild pulse throbbed anguish through the night!

LINES ON AN AUTUMNAL EVENING.

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;
Nor in yon gleam, where slow descends the day,
With western peasants hail the morning ray!