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ELEGY,

BY DR. DARWIN.

DREAD
READ Dream, that, hovering in the midnight air,
Clasp'd, with thy dusky wing, my aching head,
While, to Imagination's startled ear,

Toll'd the slow bell, for bright Eliza dead!

Stretch'd on her sable bier, the grave beside,

A snow-white shroud her breathless bosom bound, O'er her wan brow the mimic lace was tied,

And Loves, and Virtues, hung their garlands round.

From those cold lips did softest accents flow!
Round that pale mouth did sweetest dimples play!
On this dull cheek the rose of beauty blow,
And these dim eyes diffuse celestial day!

Did this cold hand unasking want relieve,
Or wake the lyre to every rapturous sound!
How sad, for other's woe, this breast would heave!
How light this heart, for other's transport, bound!
Beats not the bell again?-Heavens! do I wake?
Why heave my sighs, why gush my tears anew?
Unreal forms my trembling doubts mistake,
And frantic Sorrow fears the vision true.

Dream! to Eliza bend thy airy flight,

Go tell my charmer all my tender fears, How Love's fond woes alarm the silent night, And steep my pillow in unpitied tears.

LINES,

On a Picture of the Indian Reed, or Canna Indica ;

BY DR. SHAW.

WHERE sacred Ganges proudly rolls
O'er Indian plains his winding way,
By rubied rocks and arching shades,
Impervious to the glare of day.

Bright Canna, veil'd in Tyrian robe,
Views her lov'd lord with duteous eye;
Together both united bloom,

And both together fade and die.—

Thus, where Benares' lofty towers
Frown on her Ganges' subject wave,
Some faithful widow'd bride repairs,
Resolv'd the raging fire to brave.

True to her plighted virgin vow
She seeks the altar's radiant blaze,
Her ardent prayers to Brahma pours,
And calm approaching death surveys.

With India's gorgeous gems adorn'd,
And all her flowers, which loveliest blow
Begin," she cries," the solemn rites,
"And bid the fires around me glow.

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"A cheerful victim at that shrine
"Where nuptial truth can conquer pain,
"Around my brows rich garlands twine,
"With roses strew the hallow'd plain.

"Near yon deep grove the pyre ascends,
"Where, pale in death, Calindus lies;
"Soon shall these arms, no more withheld,
"Embrace him in his kindred skies.

"Friends of my youth, your plaints forbear,
"Nor with a tear these rites profane;
"Ere long, the sun, that now declines,
"Shall see me 'midst the sainted train.

"Mother, my last embrace receive;
"Take, sisters, take this parting kiss:
"A glorious martyr decks your race,
"And leaves you for the realms of bliss.

"Hark! from the clouds his voice I hear;
"Celestial visions round me fly!
"I see the radiant shape appear,
"His image beckons from the sky.

"Haste, holy Bramins! light the blaze
"That bears me to my parted love:
"I fly, his seraph form to meet,
"And join him in the realms above.”

ELEGY,

BY DR. DARWIN.

FLY, gentle steeds!-o'er yon unfriendly towers
Malignant stars with baleful influence reign,
Cold Beauty's frown infects the cheerless hours,
And Avarice dwells in Love's polluted fame!

Dim, distant towers! whose ample roofs protects
All that my beating bosom holds so dear,
Far shining lakes! whose silver wave reflects

Of Nature's fairest forms, the form most fair;

Groves, where at noon the sleeping Beauty lies; Lawns, where at eve her graceful footsteps rove; ye full oft have heard my secret sighs,

For

And caught unseen, the tear of hopeless love;

Farewell! a long farewell-your shades among
No more these eyes shall drink Eliza's charms;
No more these ears the music of her tongue !—
O! doom'd for ever to another's arms!

Fly, gentle steeds !-my bleeding heart convey
Where brighter scenes and milder planets shine;
Where Joy's white pinion glitters in the ray,

And Love sits smiling on his crystal shrine!

LINES

On a Picture of the Stapelia Hirsuta, or Maggot-bearing

Stapelia.

BY DR. SHAW.

MID the wild heights of Afric's stormy cape,
The fell Stapelia rears her gorgon shape;
Spreads her rough arms, and turns, with scowling eye,
Her bearded visage to the thundering sky.
To magic rites she bends her wayward care,
And with unholy vapours taints the air,
Distils with fatal art each secret bane,
And gathers all the poisons of the plain.
By native instinct round her drear abode
Glides the green snake, or crawls the shapeless toad.
Lur'd to the Hag, by horrid spells subdued,
The care-craz'd mother brings her numerous brood,
Hears the smooth tale, and trusts, in evil hour,
The tender offspring to her guardian power.
The subtle fiend assumes a softer air,

And falsely smiles, and feigns a mother's care:
But gone the parent, mid the cavern's gloom
The dire Enchantress drags them to their doom;
In pining atrophy to yield their breath,
And slowly languish in the arms of death;
Till, dried each wasted limb, each haggard eye,
Their shrivell'd forms he hideous rites supply.
No soft remorse her fell resolves can stay,
Born of the rocks, as pitiless as they!

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