Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

And often turn'd aside the sword
By gifts to the superior Lord;
So I, who owe undoubted duty
To so much wit, to so much beauty,
Send you this mark of my subjection,
As harbouring no disaffection:
For if I shou'd but once neglect
This yearly token of respect,
You soon wou'd send your armed forces
To punish my rebellious courses.
E'en now methinks I see you rise,
With vengeance sparkling in your eyes ;
Anger contracts your threatening brows;
And on your cheek resentment glows;
Your voice upbraids my traitor heart
That from its fealty durst depart.
But spare me, cruel victor, spare!
Your smiles are more than I can bear;
And less, far less can I sustain
Your looks of anger and disdain.
I dare not stand th' unequal strife,
- take my gift and spare my life.

feast:

EPIGRAM.
IMITATED FROM MARTIAL.
WITH a room-full, to me all unknown,

You bid me make one at your
I decline it; you grumble and groan,

And call me unsociable beast
Why, since I must dine quite alone,
I'll dine by myself, Sir, at least.

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
'Midst all the sons of ADAM's race,

Nor tell, or where, or when,
Or how thou sprang'st to life at first,
Or in what corner thou wast nurst

Of this frail house of men:
Dear to my head, my heart most dear,
SPIRIT OF ANIMATION! hear,

Nor let our union end.
I own, without thee I'm undone:
And where could'st thou for shelter run,

Should'st thou desert thy friend?
I know thy alderman desire
For drink and rest, for food and fire,

Whilst I am cold and wet:
But patience till we reach yon inn;
I'll ply thee then with ale and gin,

And many a dish I'll get.
But mark, when filld, no pranks like those
Which learned Doctor DARWIN shows,
Who
says,

that when thou’rt full,
Thou’rt apt to play men many a trick,
And frisk about, and toss, and kick,

Just like a mad town-bull,

[ocr errors]

This house, remember, thou art in;
Is but of clay, and built but thin,

And soon is pull’d to pieces:
Yet should'st thou rend this house in twaid,
Perchance thoul't not a better gain,

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,
Whose souls ne'er felt, whose eyes ne'er shed a tear

For worth forsaken, or for pale distress,
No moral charm these pensive scenes impart;

But they of softer mould, to nature true,
Now own a kindly influence on the heart,

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,
Now far away by fates unkind remov’d,
Or

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,
Of blending hearts, estrang’d and careless grown,

And beaming looks that now no longer glow,
Spring shall return, and these forsaken glades

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.

E, HAMLEY

ODE.

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'!

« AnteriorContinuar »