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Her eyes are dim with many a tear, That once were guiding stars to mine;

Her fond heart throbs with many a fear!I cannot bear to see thee shine.

For thee, for thee, vile yellow slave,
I left a heart that loved me true!
I cross'd the tedious ocean wave,

To roam in lands unkind and new.
The cold wind of the stranger blew
Chill on my wither'd heart-the grave
Dark and untimely met my view;
And all for thee, vile yellow slave!

Ha! comest thou now so late to mock
A wanderer's banish'd heart forlorn,
Now that his frame the lightning shock
Of sun rays tipp'd with death has borne,
From love, from friendship, country torn,
To Memory's fond regrets the prey?—
Vile slave, thy yellow dross I scorn;
Go, mix thee with thy kindred clay!

LEYDEN.

ODE.

BEGONE, pursuits so vain and light;
Knowledge, fruitless of delight;
Lean Study, sire of sallow Doubt,
I put thy musing taper out:
Fantastic all, a long adieu;

For what has love to do with you?
For, lo, I go where Beauty fires,
To satisfy my soul's desires;

VOL. III.

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For, lo, I seek the sacred walls

Where Love and gentle Beauty calls:
For me she has adorn'd the room,
For me has shed a rich perfume:
Has she not prepared the tea?
The kettle boils- -she waits for me.
I come not single, but along
Youthful sports a jolly throng!
Thoughtless joke, and infant wiles;
Harmless wit, and virgin smiles;
Tender words, and kind intent;
Languish fond, and blandishment;
Yielding courtesy, whisper low;
Silken blush, with cheeks that glow;
Chaste desires and wishes meet;
Thin-clad Hope, a footman fleet;
Modesty, that turns aside,

And backward strives her form to hide;
Healthful Mirth, still gay and young,
And Meekness with a maiden's tongue;
Satire, by good humour dress'd

In a many-colour'd vest:

And enter leaning at the door,

Who send'st thy flaunting page before,
The roguish boy of kind delight,

Attendant on the lover's night;

Fair his ivory shuttle flies

Through the bright threads of mingling dyes,

As swift his rosy fingers move

To knit the silken cords of love;

And stop-who softly stealing goes?

Occasion high on her tiptoes,

Whom Youth with watchful look espies,
To seize the forelock ere she flies,

Ere he her bald pate shall survey,
And well plied heels to run away.

But, anxious Care, be far from hence;
Vain Surmise, and alter'd sense;
Mishapen Doubts, the woes they bring;
And Jealousy, of fiercest sting;
Despair, that solitary stands,

And wrings a halter in his hands;
Flattery false and hollow found,

And Dread, with eye still looking round;
Avarice, bending under pelf:

Conceit, still gazing on herself:

O Love! exclude high-crested Pride,
Nymph of Amazonian stride:

Nor in these walls, like waiting maid,
Be Curiosity survey'd,

That to the keyhole lays her ear,
Listening at the door to hear;
Nor father Time, unless he's found
In triumph led by Beauty bound,
Forced to yield to Vigour's stroke,
His blunted scythe and hourglass broke.
But come, all ye who know to please;
Inviting glance, and downy ease;
The heart-born joy, the gentle care;
Soft-breathed wish, and power of prayer;
The simple vow, that means no ill;
Believing Quiet, submissive Will;
Constancy of meekest mind,

That suffers long, and still is kind;
All ye who put our woes to flight;
All ye who minister delight;

Nods, and wreaths, and becks, and tips;
Meaning winks, and roguish trips;

Fond deceits, and kind surprises;
Sudden sinks, and sudden rises;
Laughs, and toys, and gamesome fights;
Jolly dance, and girds, and flights:
Then, to make me wholly bless'd,
Let me be there a welcome guest.

HAMILTON.

TO HEALTH.

WRITTEN AT BUXTON.

O ROSY health, heart-easy maid,
In garments light thy limbs array'd,
In smiles thy jocund features dress'd,
Of Heaven's best blessings thou the best;
Bright goddess, ever fair and young,
To thee my votive lays belong!

For thou hast fill'd each languid vein
With vigour, life, and strength again,
When pale, enervate, wan, and weak,
Despair and sickness seized my cheek.

O, could my voice such numbers raise,
Thee and thy healing founts to praise,
As might with themes so high agree,
Praise worthy them and worthy thee!
O nymph, admit me of thy train,
With thee to range the breezy plain;
And fresh and strong my limbs to lave
Beneath thy nerve-restoring wave.
With thee to rouse the slumbering morn
With opening hound and cheering horn,
With shouts that shake each wood and hill,
While mocking Echo takes her fill.

O lover of the daisied lawn!

"Tis thine, at earliest peep of dawn, The ranging forester to greet;

Or the blithe lass, whose tripping feet, All as she sings beneath the pail, Imprint long traces o'er the vale. Nor seekest thou the proud resorts Of cities and licentious courts, Where Sloth and Gluttony abide, With bloated Surfeit by their side; But humbly scornest not to dwell With Temperance in the rural cell; To watch the sheepboy at his stand, Or ploughman on the furrow'd land. These climates cold, these barren plains, Where rude uncultured Nature reigns, Better thy hardy manners please Than bowers of Luxury and Ease. And oft you trip these hills among With Exercise, a sportsman young, Who, starting at the call of day, Cuffs drowsy Indolence away, And climbs with many a sturdy stride The mossy mountain's quivering side; Nor fleeting mist nor sullen storm Nor blast nor whirlwind can deform The careless scene when thou art there With Cheerfulness, thy daughter fair. From thee, bright Health, all blessings spring! Hither thy blooming children bring,Light-hearted Mirth and Sport and Joy And young-eyed Love, thy darling boy. "Tis thou hast pour'd o'er Beauty's face Its artless bloom, its native grace;

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