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“Cease, man of woman born, to hope relief “Amicted Israel shall sit weeping down, From daily trouble and continued grief;
Fast by the stream where Babel's waters run; Phy hope of joy deliver to the wind,
Their harps upon the neighboring willows hung, Suppress thy passions, and prepare thy mind; Nor joyous hymn encouraging their tongue, Free and familiar with misfortune grow,
Nor cheerful dance their feet; with toil oppress'd, Be us'd to sorrow, and inur'd to woe ;
Their wearied limbs aspiring but to rest. By weakening toil and hoary age o'ercome, In the reflective stream the sighing bride, See thy decrease, and hasten to thy tomb; Viewing her charms impair'd, abash'd, shall hide Leave to thy children tumult, strife, and war, Her pensive head; and in her languid face Portions of toil, and legacies of care ;
The bridegroom shall foresee his sickly race, Send the successive ills through ages down, While ponderous fetters vex their close embrace. And let each weeping father tell his son,
With irksome anguish then your priests shall mourn That deeper struck, and more distinctly griev'd, Their long-neglected feasts' despair'd return, He must augment the sorrows he receiv'd. And sad oblivion of their solemn days.
“The child to whose success thy hope is bound, Thenceforth their voices they shall only raise, Ere thou art scarce interr'd, or he is crown'd, Louder to weep. By day, your frighted seers To lust of arbitrary sway inclind,
Shall call for fountains to express their tears, (That cursed poison to the prince's mind!) And wish their eyes were floods; by night, from Shall from thy dictates and his duty rove,
dreams And lose his great defence, his people's love; Of opening gulfs, black storms, and raging flames, Ill-counsell’d, vanquish’d, fugitive, disgrac'd, Starting amaz'd, shall to the people show Shall mourn the fame of Jacob's strength effac'd; Emblems of heavenly wrath, and mystic types of woe. Shall sigh the king diminishd, and the crown The captives, as their tyrant shall require With lessen'd rays descending to his son; That they should breathe the song, and touch the Shall see the wreaths, his grandsire knew to reap
lyre, By active toil and military sweat,
Shall say : •Can Jacob's servile race rejoice, Pining, incline their sickly leaves, and shed Untun'd the music, and disus'd the voice ? Their falling honors from his giddy head ; What can we play,' (they shall discourse,) 'how sing By arms or prayer unable to assuage
In foreign lands, and to a barbarous king ?
We and onr fathers, from our childhood bred
[race, Alas! when we have toil'd the longsome day, “ Hence laboring years shall weep their destin'd The fullest bliss our hearts aspire to know Charg'd with ill omens, sullied with disgrace. Is but some interval from active woe, Time, by necessity compell’d, shall go
In broken rest and startling sleep to mourn, Through scenes of war, and epochas of woe. Till morn, the tyrant, and the scourge, return. The empire, lessen'd in a parted stream,
Bred up in grief, can pleasure be our theme? Shall lose its course
Our endless anguish does not Nature claim ? Indulge thy tears: the Heathen shall blaspheme; Reason and sorrow are to us the same. Judah shall fall, oppress'd by grief and shame, Alas! with wild amazement we require, And men shall from her ruins know her fame. If idle Folly was not Pleasure's fire ?
• New Egypts yet and second bonds remain, Madness, we fancy, gave an ill-tim'd birth A harsher Pharaoh, and a heavier chain.
To grinning Laughter, and to frantic Mirth.' Again, obedient to a dire command,
" This is the series of perpetual woe, Thy captive sons shall leave the promis'd land. Which thou, alas! and thine, are born to know. Their name more low, their servitude more vile, Illustrious wretch! repine not, nor reply: Shall on Euphrates' bank renew the grief of Nile. View not what Heaven ordains with Reason's eye ; “These pointed spires, that wound the ambient Too bright the object is; the distance is too high. sky,
The man who would resolve the work of Fate, (Inglorious change!) shall in destruction lie May limit number, and make crooked straight : Low, levell’d with the dust; their heights unknown, Stop thy inquiry then, and curb thy sense, Or measur'd by their ruin. Yonder throne, Nor let dust argue with Omnipotence. For lasting glory built, design'd the seat
'Tis God who must dispose, and man sustain, Of kings for ever blest, for ever great,
Born to endure, forbidden to complain. Remov'd by the invader's barbarous hand, Thy sum of life must his decrees fulfil; Shall grace his triumph in a foreign land.
What derogates from his command, is ill; The tyrant shall demand yon sacred load And that alone is good which centres in his will Of gold, and vessels set apart to God,
“ Yet, that thy laboring senses may not droop, Then, by vile hands to common use debas'd, Lost to delight, and destitute of hope, Shall send them flowing round his drunken feast, Remark what I, God's messenger, aver With sacrilegious taunt, and impious jest.
From him, who neither can deceive nor err. “Twice fourteen ages shall their way complete ; The land, at length redeem'd, shall cease to mourn Empires by various turns shall rise and set; Shall from her sad captivity return. While thy abandon'd tribes shall only know Sion shall raise her long-dejected head, A different master, and a change of woe,
And in her courts the law again be read. With down-cast eye-lids, and with looks aghast, Again the glorious temple shall arise, Shall dread the future, or bewail the past. And with new lustre pierce the neighboring skies
The promis'd seat of empire shall again
The squire, whose good grace was to open the Cover the mountain, and command the plain ;
Derry down, &c.
“What frightens you thus, my good son ?" says No more may man inquire, nor angel know.
the priest : “Now, Solomon! remembering who thou art,
“ You murder'd, are sorry, and have been confest."
Derry down, &c.
“ Pugh! pr’ythee ne'er trouble thy head with Thy sum of duty let two words contain ;
such fancies: (O may they graven in thy heart remain !) Rely on the aid you shall have from Saint Francis: Be humble, and be just." The angel said :
If the money you promis'd be brought to the chest, With upward speed his agile wings he spread ;
You have only to die : let the church do the rest.
Derry down, &c.
“ And what will folks say, if they see you afraid ?
It reflects upon me, as I k.ew not my trade :
Courage, friend; for to-day is your period of sorrow; “ Supreme, all-wise, eternal Potentate! Sole Author, sole Disposer of our fate!
And things will go better, believe me, to-morrow."
Derry down, &c.
“To-morrow!" our hero replied, in a fright: Original of beings! Power divine !
“ He that's hang'd before noon, ought to thing of toSince that I live, and that I think, is thine !
night."Benign Creator! let thy plastic hand
“Tell your beads," quoth the priest, “and be fairly Dispose its own effect; let thy command Restore, Great Father! thy instructed son;
For you surely to-night shall in Paradise sup." And in my act may thy great will be done!"
Derry down, &c. “Alas !" quoth the squire, “howe'er sumptuous
Parbleu! I shall have little stomach to eat;
I should therefore esteem it great favor and grace.
Would you be so kind as to go in my place.”
"That I would,” quoth the father, "and thank
you to boot ;
But our actions, you know, with our duty must suit
The feast I propos'd to you, I cannot taste ;
For this night, by our order, is mark'd for a fast.”
Derry down, &c.
Then, turning about to the hangman, he said, And the hangman completes what the judge but " Dispatch me, I pr'ythee, this troublesome blade ; begun;
For thy cord and my cord both equally tie,
Derry down, &c.
no more crost.
IN vain you tell your parting lover,
You wish fair winds may waft him over.
Alas! what winds can happy prove,
That bear me far from what I love?
Alas! what dangers on the main
Be gentle, and in pity choose
To wish the wildest tempests loose :
That, thrown again upon the coast
The pride of every grove I chose,
The violet sweet and lily fair, The dappled pink, and blushing rose,
To deck my charming Chloe's hair.
At morn the nymph vouchsaf'd to place
Upon her brow the various wreath ; The flowers less blooming than her face,
The scent less fragrant than her breath. The flowers she wore along the day :
And every nymph and shepherd said, That in her hair they look'd more gay
Than glowing in their native bed.
Their odors lost, their colors past;
Her garland and her eye she cast.
As any Muse's longue could speak, When from its lid a pearly tear
Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek.
The reason of the thing is clear,
“Since this has been authentic truth,
“Your care does further yet extend :
Youthful and healthy, flesh and blood,
Allow this logic to be good ?"
“Sir, will your questions never end ? I trust to neither spy nor friend. In short, I keep her from the sight Of every human face.”—“She'll write.". “From pen and paper she's debarr’d.". “Has she a bodkin and a card ? She'll priek her mind.”—“She will, you say : But how shall she that mind convey ? I keep her in one room : I lock it: The key, (look here,) is in this pocket."“The key-hole, is that left ?"-"
Most certain." “She'll thrust her letter through, Sir Martin."
“Dear, angry friend, what must be done ?
Dissembling what I knew too well,
“ My love, my life,” said I, “explain This change of humor: pr'ythee tell :
That falling tear-what does it mean ?”
She sigh'd ; she smil'd; and, to the flowers
Pointing, the lovely moralist said : "See, friend, in some few fleeting hours,
See yonder, what a change is made!
" Ah, me! the blooming pride of May,
And that of Beauty, are but one: At morn both flourish bright and gay;
Both fade at evening, pale, and gone.
" At dawn poor Stella danc'd and sung ;
The amorous youth around her bow'd : At night her fatal knell was rung;
I saw, and kiss'd her in her shroud.
Such as she is, who died to-day ;
Such I, alas! may be to-morrow : Go, Damon, bid thy Muse display
The justice of thy Chloe's sorrow."
AN ENGLISH PADLOCK.
Miss Danaë, when fair and young,
* Lady Catharine Hyde, now Duchess of Queensberry. 1 The Earl of Essex married Lady Jane Hyde.
My softest verse, my darling lyre,
Upon Euphelia's toilet lay; When Chloe noted her desire, That I should sing, that I should play
My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,
But with my numbers mix my sighs ; And, whilst I sing Euphelia's praise,
I fix my soul on Chloe's eyes.
Fair Chloe blush'd : Euphelia frown'd;
I sung, and gaz'd; I play'd and trembled : And Venus to the Loves around
Remark'd, how il} we all dissembled.
THE LADY'S LOOKING-GLASS.
In imitation of a Greek Idyllium.
But, oh the change the winds grow high ; Impending tempests charge the sky;
The lightning flies, the thunder roars,
"Once more, at least, look back," said I,
“ But when vain doubt and groundless fear
Shipwreck'd, in vain to land I make, While Love and Fate still drive me back : Forc'd to dote on thee thy own way, Ichide thee first, and then obey. Wretched when from thee, vex'd when nigh, I with thee, or without thee, die."