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And often turn'd aside the sword
You bid me make one at your
And call me unsociable beast
N, B. HALHED, ESQ. ODE TO THE SPIRIT OF ANIMATION.
[Vide DARWIN's Zoonomia, Vol. I.] Indited on a Journey on Horseback last Winter, and trae
celling late at Night.
O THOU! whose presence none can trace
Nor tell, or where, or when,
Of this frail house of men:
Nor let our union end.
Should'st thou desert thy friend?
Whilst I am cold and wet:
And many a dish I'll get.
that when thou’rt full,
Just like a mad town-bull,
This house, remember, thou art in;
And soon is pull’d to pieces:
Nor one on longer leases.
VERSES WRITTEN IN AUTUMN.
The gladsome hours are gone, and from the fields,
Now mute and naked, cheerful Toil retires ; The sun far off a paler radiance yields,
And darts more faint his horizontal fires. Mark, how the thickets fade! whose pleasing gloom
No longer charms, whose music all is past ; Prepar'd to shed their last autumnal bloom,
And bare their foreheads to the wintry blast. To those, who riot in the mad career
Of wealth and luxury and idleness,
For worth forsaken, or for pale distress,
But they of softer mould, to nature true,
And love ev'n fields and groves of sadder hue.
These teach, that mortal bliss must swiftly die,
And Man return to night's unending shade; That some on sorrow's dreary couch must lie,
And wait for peace a pitying brother's aid; That, while thro' fortune's paths we jocund tend,
"Tis ours each headlong passion to restrain, A heart too frail from vanity defend,
And serious think on those, who suffer pain. These too with tender thoughts awhile may charm,
And wake the mem'ry of departed hours, That ʼmid the wilds of life, beset with harm And pain and sorrow,
smile like summer flow'rs; Endear'd perhaps by those, whose looks we lov'd,
Whose gentle voice was music to our ears,
gone, where love is vain, and vain our tears. These too may speak of early friendships flown,
As thro' life's ever-changing paths we go,
And beaming looks that now no longer glow,
And faded hills and woods of foliage pale Again shall bloom, again the forest shades
Will charm, and birds the dew-ey'd morning hail; But ne'er shall youth, nor youth's delights return,
Nor youth's warm sentiments, that love create, Bidding with stronger, purer flames to burn;
Nor those we mourn escape the bonds of fate.
How fresh the breezes blow!
How softly swell the hills! How kind the sun's bright glow!
What soothing in the rills !
All, all with transport thrills ! Scenes that alone impart True vigour to the mind, sweet solace to the
heart! Hark! from the inmost grove,
Borne by the scented gale, The bird of thought and love Is heard.-0 nightingale!
Thee early do I hail ; Thy full of music long May listening woods resound, and love reward
the song! While in the mid-way skies
The shrill lark seems to float, As yet the cuckoo tries
Faintly her mellowing throat;
Soft is the blackbird's note; Nor yet, at evening's blush, Long heard from hedgerows green the wildly
warbling thrush. April! thy changeful day
Though tempest oft alarms, I greet;
since the sweet May Owes to thy fostering arms Her more than mortal charms'!