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Plants that with early perfume feed the breeze

May bell each dank and noxious vapour chafe.
The flaunting tulip, the carnation gay,

Turnfole and piony, and a!! the train
That love to glitter in the noon-tide ray,

111 fuit the copfe where death and fiience reign.
Not but perchance, to deck fome virgin's tomb,

Where viulets fweet their twofold purple fpread-,
Some rofe of maiden blufh may faintly bloom,

Or with'ring hang its emblematic head.
Thefe to renew with more than annual care

That wakeful love with penfive ftep will go;
The hand that lifts the dibble (hakes with fear

Left haply it difturb the friend below.
Vain fear! for never (hall difhirher come

Potent enough to wa!:e fuch deep profound,
Till the dread herald to the day of doom

Pours from his trump the world-diffblving found.
Vain ie;:r! yet who that boafts a heart to feel,

An eye to pity, would that fear reprove?
They onlv who are curl! with breafis of fteel

Can mock the foibles of furviving love.
Thofe foibles far beyond cold reafon's claim

Have power the focial charities to fpread;
They feed, fweet tendcrnefs! thy lambent flame,

Which, while it warms the heart, improves the head.
Jts chemic aid a gradual heat applies

That from the drofs of felf eachwifh refines,
Extracts the liberal fpirir, bids it rife

Till with primaeval purity it Alines.
Take then, poor peafants, from the friend of Gray

His humbler praife; for Gray or fail'd to fee,
Or faw unnotie'd, what had wak'cf a lay

Rich in the pathos of true poefy.
Yes, had he pae'd this church-way path along,

Or lean'd like me againft this ivy'd wall,
How fadly fweet had flow'd his Dorian fong,

TJien fweeteft when it flow'd at nature's call.
Like Tadmor's fling, his comprehenfive mind

Each plant's peculiar character could feize;
And hence his moralizing * mufe had join'd,

To all thefe flow'rs, a thoufand fimiles.
But he, alas! in diftant village-grave

Has mix'd with dear maternal duft his own;

* This epithet is ufed to call to the reader's recollcftion a paflUge in Shakcfpcar, , dcfcriptive of a character to which in its beft parts Mr. Gray's was not diffimilar. Duke Sen. But what faid Jaques?

Did he'not moralize this fpeftacle?
Fir/1 Lord. O yes, into a rhoufand fimiles.

Ai you Hit it, AB 2. Scene 1.

Ev'n now the pang, which parting friendfhip gave,

Thrills at my heart, and tells me he is gone.
Take then' from me the penfive ftrain that flows

Congenial to this coiiiecrated gloom;
Where all that meets my eye fome fymbol (hows

Of grief, like mine, that lives beyond the tomb: • Shows me that you, though doonVd the livelong year

For fcanty food the toiling arm to ply,
Can fmite your breads, and find an inmate there

To heave, when mem'ry bids, the ready figh.
Still nurfe that beft of inmates, gentle fwaius!

Still aft as heartfelt fympathy infpires;
The tafte, which birth from education gains,

Serves but to chill affection's native fires.
To you more knowledge than uliat fliieldsfrom vke

Were but a gift would multiply your cares; Of matter and of mind let reafoners nice

Difpute; be patience yours, prefumption theirs. You know (what more can earthly fcieiice know?)

That all muft die; by revelation's ray Illum'd, you truft the allies plac'd below

Thefe flow'ry tuits, iliall rife again to day. What if yon deem, by hoar tradition led.

To you perchance devolv'd from Druids old, That parted fouls at foltmn feafons tread

The circles that their (hrines of clay enfold? What if you deem they fome fad pleafure take

Thefe poor memorials of your love to view, And: fcent the perfume for the planter's fake,

That breathes from vulgar rofemary and rue? Unfeeling Wit may fcorn, and Pride may frown;

Yet Fancy, emprefs of the realms of fong, Shall blefs the decent mode, and reafon own

It may be right—for who can prove v. wrong I

.. <

Lines addrtfled to a Fountain.
[From Lyric Poems.]

SEQJJESTER'D Fountain! ever pure,
Whofe placid ftreamlet flows,
In filent lapfe, through glens obfeure,

Where timid flocks repofe:
Tired and difabled in the race,
I quit ambition's fruitltfs chace,
To fhape my courfe by thine;
And, pleas'd, from ferious trifles turn,
As thus, around thy little urn,
A votive wreath-1 twine.

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There every figure (lands confeft, i
In all the fweet advantage dreft

Of Candour's radiant robe—
There no mean cares admiflion find,
Love is the bufinefs of mankind,

And Honour rules the globe.

But if thofe gleams fallacious prove

That paint the world io fair;
If heav'n has plac'd for gen'rous love

No foft afylum there;
If men fair faith, fair fame deride,
Eent on the crooked paths that guide

To lnt'reft's fordid (brine;'

Be yours, ye gloomy fons of Woe!
That melancholy truth to know,

The dream of blifs be mine.

Scenkry by Moonlight, Melna and theGnosT of Hidallas. [From the Valbs of Wever, a loco-defcriptive Poem, by J.

GlSDORNE, EsQj.

HERE as the filent orb of night
Silvers the crags with facred light,
Pours through the gaping rocks her beams,
And fheds a glory on the ftrearns,
Old towers and ramparts burft around,
Inchantment walks the hoary ground:
Black fliades contraft the illumin'd fcene,
And horror fiowns thofe dells between.
Pale o'er the woodlands moonfhitie glows,
And pale the hiftrous deluge flows,
Rolls o'er the graves on Wever's brow,
While yellow vapours fwim below.

Suck fcenes the forrowing Melna fought,
Her foul With pure afFeftion fraught,
Pierc'd with quick ftep and throbbing bread
Cona's rude vales, diftfaited gueft;
Bath'd with unpitied tears the earth,
And figh'd and mourn'd herhaplefs birth;
Call'd on Hidallan's darling name, •

And wail'd her warrior's thirft of fame.

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Wove a .black canopy of cloud,
And round her flung his fable fliroud;
No ftars arofe with changeful blaze,
To cheer her path's bewilder'd maze:
No moon-beams glimmering through the trees
Trembled obedient to the breeze.
A while the weeping beauty (iood
(Coid tremois courting through her blood),
'Then fcreamingrufh'd, with furious tread,
Along the nianfions of the dead;
Where at this hour o'er mouldering graves
His beard of fnow the thiftle waves.
At length rpore calm, with looks refign'd,
She check'd the tumult of her mind,
Rais'd her white aims, implor'd the moon
To flied on night her placid noon,
Then funk in agony of prayer,
Pale kneeling monument of care!

I.

Queen of the fides, who filver'ft wide

This dreary world* with glory's fea,
Roll from thine orb the radiant tide,

And pour thy lucid ftreams on me!

II.

Here muffled dark in horrors dread,

I bow to facred Love's command,
While anguifli clafps my aching head,

And terror chilis with palfied hand:

III.

Oh hear! oh guide thefe wilder'd feet To where my lov"d Hidallan ftays; ■ Give me his long-loft form to meet,

To light his eyes with fond amaze! ,'

IV.

Give him, oh! ere with life I'part,

Give him to lull thefe wild alarms;
Once more to footh my dying heart,

Once more to blefs his Melna's arms!

Then ceas'd the fair. With fwimming eves She mark'd the fliade-embofom'd flues.' 797- M &w

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