« AnteriorContinuar »
Sweet is Fame's pæan song, and choral note,
When o'er the grave of one she fondly lov’d,
Sweet to the sylvan and romantic car
“ * Murmuring her fairy tunes in praise of flowers." And, sweet th'Eolian harp's enamour'd string,
When, by young Zephyr's balmy lip caress’d,
It trills the listless lover's soul to rest :
Of mingled rapture, is the bliss we prove
* Fron. Dr. D
-'s Vacuna, 5th. vol, Dadsley's Coll.
On reading “ Sickness," an Elegy by the late Mr.
Headley; Editor of the Beauties of Ancient English Poetry.
BY T. PARK, ESQ.
CHILD of the classic muse! whose generous toil
Hath many a blossom to the rapı sight shown, Which else had slumber'd mid an adverse soil,
By weeds encumber'd or neglect o'ergrown:
Ah! why from hence hast thou so early flown ?. Could Sickness find no less lamented prey ?
Or, like the cygnet's, did thy sad note moan To melt us with its own funereal lay :
Yet hapless youth, thy spirit hath not fed Without the meed of some melodious tear;
A bard * who lov'd thee living, weeps thee dead, And breathes his soul's warm incense o'er thy bier:
For which, when death shall close his dulcet song, May requiems like his own, his kindred fame prolong!
# TI ev. W. L. Bowles, late Trinity-College, Oxford, published an Elegiae poem on the death of Mr, Headley,
THROUGH these dark groves no more the Zeplyt
creeps, The moon's meek ray illumes yon walls no more; But the wild blast, with boisterous fury, sweeps : Through the half-leafless trees, and turrets hoar. Descending fast from many a gloomy cloud,
Driven by the tempest's rage, the drenching rain
In sullen grandeur frowns upon the plain.
My footsteps press the fallen foliage sere,
Bewails the dying beauties of the year. Ah, fast-expiring year! might I but close With thy brief date my pilgrimage of woes!
TO A FRIEND ON REVISITING ALONE,
How changed the scene, since that remember'd niglit,
When, in delightful musings rapt, we stray'd
Through the long lofty grove's o'er-arching-shade, Soften'd by changeful Dian's pearly light; Or gaz'd upon yon pile of giant might,
In robe of mellow tints by time array'd;
And gave a sigh to those in dust low laid, Who mark'd of years long past the rapid flight. How chang'd the scene! the blast raves through the
grove; The withered foliage drives along the plain;
Fast, from dark gathering clouds, descends the rain. Heedless of angry, elements, I rove
And sigh. for thee my friend ! thy presence-dear, Would spread a magic charm around this landscape SONNET.
R. A. D.
ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND,
À. B, AND CANDIDATE FOR A FELLOWSHIP IN ONE
OF THE UNIVERSITIES.
That Hood, so late your wish, in monkish beauty Flows from your shoulders now, long, black, and"
furry. Were you but Fellow then !-Yet why this hurry?
Before you stand, read this, and learn your duty.
To frown importance, while they cap and sir ye ;
Nor blush, if ill your awkward flattery suit ye:
you; but tolerate no younger sinner: Teach them to rise, be sober and grow clever ;
Snore you till noon, and every night be mellow: ' Pray seldom; then be last; be first at dinner:
Walk, ride, and dress; read sometimes; study--never. This will you swear: Enough: admit him Fellow.