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DEPRIVED of all on earth I valued most,
By disappointed hope, and cares deprest, Each brighter dream of Expectation crost,
Say what shall soothe my wounded soul to rest?
In vain amid the circles of the
gay I seek a short oblivion of despair, To scenes of solitude in vain 1 stray,
The form of vanish'd Pleasure haunts me there.
Remembrance still recalls the cherish'd hours,
When not a cloud obscur'd this tranquil breast; But vain are all her visionary powers,
Which only tell me, that I once was blest.
unexpected storms around me rise,
Tho' Hope no more the opening prospect cheers,
And Fancy's brighter visions all decay, Yet shall Affection to my latest years,
With cherish'd rapture bless thy natal day.
my earthly state, For thee, my love, the heartfelt prayer shall rise, For thee invoke a milder, happier fate,
And every bliss which heaven to me denies.
Oh! never may thy gentle bosom know
The pangs which rend the disappointed heart, But ever as the varying seasons flow
Each opening hour some new-born charm impart.
Be thine each purer joy the world bestows,
An age unvex'd with malady or strife, Content, alternate pleasure and repose,
And all that graces, all that sweetens life.
These joys (such joys for thee should Heaven ordain,
In pity to the anguish I endure)
And soothe perhaps the ills they cannot cure.
While chill Suspense, and varying Cares represt The daw ning visions of this anxious breast; Amid each pang of absence and delay Still for thy peace I pour'd the fervent prayer, -And shall I now, when fears no more annoy Lost in the sweet reality of joy ; My every wish at length obtain'd-in thee; Say, shall I brood indifferent o'er that fate, From which alone my bliss must take its date? Nor bless the hour that owns a birth so dear?. For thee th' unvary'd, heartfelt prayer shall flow
O dearest wish of this unchanging heart, O more than power or riches could impart, Source of each pleasure fav’ring heaven can give, * For whom, and whom alone I ask to live!"
half sunk beneath successive fears
unmov'd thy natal morn appear,
Long, very long, may this auspicious morn
TO MRS. T....
ON READING HER BEAUTIFUL POEM OF PSYCHIE
OR THE LEGEND OF LOVE.
When feeling, taste, and genius all conspire
To claim the undisputed meed of praise, In vain, where all must envy or admire,
The feeble tribute of applause we raise. For who shall paint her worth, whose matchleso mind,
Warm with the elegance of classic lore, By reason strengthen’d, and by love refin'd,
Divides the palm which Spenser own'd before!
The joys which virtue, science, truth impart. These, while the lighter pleasures of the hour Shall yield their soft, consolatory power
Blest page! where, whilst the varied graces shino,
Fair Virtue wears her most attractive hues, Where glowing Wisdom stamps th’ impressive line,
And Truth entwines the flowers which Fancy strews. 'Tis thine to bid incautious virtue fly
The paths, where fell deceits in ambush move, Ambition's lure, Suspicion's venom'd eye ;
-And prize the calmer sweets of social love. For thee, sweet muse, whose artless strains display
Each chaste affection of the female heart, Thine are the joys which never can decay, A sickly gleam of dubious rapture cast, To bless the future, and endear the past.
LIB. V. EP. VI.
Orpheug, his wife to snatch from Hell,
Its utmost horrors brav’d;