“ Ye gales * !” they cried, " ye cruel eastern ODE TO CAPTIVITY.

gales !

Adverse to Troy, conspiring with the foe,
WRITTEN IN THE LAST WAR.

That eager stretch the victor's swelling sails, O STERN Captivity! from Albion's land

To what unfriendly regions will ge blow? Far, far, avert the terrours of thy rod !

Saall we serve on Dorie plains ? O wave not o'er her fields thy flaming brand !

Or where in Pitbia Pyrrhus reigns ?
O crush not Freedom, fairest child of God! -

Shall Echo catch our captire tales?
Bring not from thy Gallic shore

Joyless in the sprightly vales
The galling fetters, groaning oar! Apidanus thy beautcuns current laves,
Bring not hither Virtue's bane,

Say, shall we sit and dream of Simois' fairer
Thy sister Superstition's train !

waves ? O spare from sanguine rites the silver foods ! “ Shall Delos, sacred Delos, hcar our woes? Nor haunt with shapes obscene our unpolluted Where when Latona'sotlspring sprung to birth, woods !

The palm spontaneous, and the laurel rose, Is yet too weak, rapacious power, thy throne ?

o Dian, Dian, on thy hallowed earth ; While the chain's continent thy vassal waits,

With Delian inaids, a spotless band, The Rbine, the Danube, and the sounding Rhone,

At virtue's altar shall we stand Proclaim thy triumphs through an hundred

And hail thy name with choral joy

Invok'd in vain for falling Troy?
states.
See Valentia's smiling vales

Thy shafts victorious shall our songs prociaim,
Courted for thee by ocean's gales !

When not an arrow fed to spare thy rotaries

shame.
Through yawning vaults on Tagus'
streams,

“To Athens, art's fair empire, shall we rove? Thine revenge's dagger gleams :

There for some haughty mistress ply the loom, Thy fury bursts on Rome's devoted head, With daring fancy paint avenging Juve, In vain the Scipios liv'd, the Decii, Cato bled ! His forked lightnings fiaming through the Be these thy bounds-whose laws with monarchs

glooin, reign,

'To blast the bold Titanian race: Tothis fair isle how impotent thy hate !

Or deaf to vature, must we trace Where Pitt, so righteous Heaven and George

In mournful shades our hapless war? ordain,

What art, dread Pallas, to thy car,
In wisdom guides the thunder of the state. Shall yoke th’inimortal steeds? what colours tell

That thunder shook op Afric's shore,? By thine, by Pyrrhus' lance, how lufty Iliun tell?
The howling wild where lions roar; “Yes, cruel gols, oor bleeding country fills,
In western worlds 3 its awful powers Her chiefs are slain--see brothers, sires expire!
Sunk astonish'd Bourbon's towers;

Ah see, ex ulting o'er her prostrate walls,
That thunder sounding o'er the Celtic main,

The victor's fury, and devouring fire !
Roll'd to Lutetia's walls along the allighted

Asia's hanghty genius lrohe,
Seine.

Bows the neck to Europe's yoke,
Daughters of Albion! strew his paths with flowers, Chains are all our portion now,
O wake for him the lute's barmovions chord !

No festal wreaths shall bind our brow,
His name be echoed in your fostal bowers, Nor Ilymen's corches light the bridal day:
Who guards britannia from a foreign lord ! O Death,and black Despair, bt hold your destin'd

Happy fair, who seated far
From laughty conquerors, barbarous war,
Hare hcard alone in tragic songs

Of cities storm’d and virgins' wrongs,
There felt the daughters, parents, consorts groan,
And wept historic woes, unpractis'd in your own! | IMIT.ATION FROM OSSLAN'S POEMS.
Have you not beard how Sion's daughters mourn'd

LATELY PUBLISHED BY THE TITLE OF FINGAL, &c. Their prostate land ?--how Greece her victims tore

Brown Autumin nods upon the mountain's head, From faming altars ? --captive queens they turn'd The dark mist gathers; howling winds assail From Troy reluctant-on the sea-beat shore The blighted desert; on its mineral bed

Their eyes to Heaven were rollid in vain, Dark rolls the river through the sullen vale,
Their eyes-for not the victor's chain

On the hill's dejected scene
Indulg'd thy privilege, Despair!

The blasted ash alone is seen, (sleeps ;
Their hands to rend their flowing hair;

Tbat marks the grave where Cunnal Behind them Troy a smoking ruin lies,

Gather'd iuto inould'ring heaps Before lie unknown seas, and black incumbent Troin the whirlwind's giddy round, skies.

Its leaves bestrew the ballowed ground.

Across the musing hunter's lonesome way I The late conspiracy against the Portuguese Flit inelancholy ghosts, that chill the dawn of day, government was planned amid the ruins of that rinfortunate capital.

prey !"

mali woes.

Connal, thou slumber'st there, the great, the good!

ODE TO YOUTIT.

(trace?
Thy long-fam'd ancestors what tongne can Youtu, ah stay, prolong delight,
Firm, as the oak on rocky heights, they stood; Close thy pinions stretchi'd for flight!
Planted as firm on glory's ample base.

Youth, disdaining silver hairs,
Rooted in their native clime,

Autumn's frowns and Winter's cares,
Brav'd alike devouring time,

Dwell'st thou but in dimple sleek,
Full of honours, full of age,

In vernal smiles and Summer's cheek?
That lofty oak the winter's ragc

On Spring's ambrosial lap thy hands unfold,
Rent from the promontory's brow, They blossom fresh with hope, and all they touch
And death has laid the mighty low.

is gold. The mountains inourn their consecrated trec; His country Comal mourns ;-what son shall

Graver years come sailing by : rival thee?

Hark! they call me as they ily;

Quit, they cry, for nobler themes, Here was the din of arms, and here o'erthrown

Statesman, quit thy boyish dreams ! The valiant !--mournful are thy wars, Fingal ; Tune to crowds thy pliant voice, The carerns echo'id to the dying groan,

Or flatter thrones, the nobler choice!
The fatal fields beheld the victor fall;

Deserting virtue, yet assuine her state;
Tall amidst the host, as hills

Thy smiles, that dwell with love, ah! wed them
Above their vales and subject rills,

now to hate.
His arm, a tempest lowering high,
His sword, a beam of summers sky,

Or in victory's purple plain
Flis eyes, a fiery furnace, glare,

Triumph thou on hills of slain!
His voice that shook th' astonish'd war,

While the virgin rends her hair,
Was thunder's sound : he smote the trembling

Childless sires demand their heir, foes,

Timid orphans kneel and weep: As sportive infant's staff the bearded thistle mous. Or, where the unsunn'd treasures sleep,

Sit brooding o'er thy cave in grim repose. Onward to meet this hern, like a storm,

There mock at human jovs, there mock at bu.
A cloudy storm, the mighty Dargo came ;
As mountain caves, where dusky meteors form,
His hollow eye-balls flash'd a livid flame.

Years away! too dear I prize
And now they join’d, and now they wield Fancy's haunts, her vales, her skies;
Their clasbing steel-scsounds the field : Come, ye gales that swell the flowers,
Crimora heard the loud alarms,

Wake my soul's expanding powers;
Rioval's daughter, bright in arins,

Come, by streams embow'r'd in wood,
Her hands the bow victorious bear,

Celestial forms, the fair, the good!
Luxuriant war'd ber auburn hair;

With moral charms associate vernal joys!
Connal, her life, her love, in beauty's pride,

Pure nature's pleasures these-the rest are She follow'd to the war, and fought by Connal's

fashion's toys. side.

Come, while ycars reprove in vain, In wild despair, at Connal's foe she drew

Yonth, with me, and rapture reign! The fatal string, impatient flew the dart;

Sculpture, painting, meet my eyes,
Ah hapless mad !--vith erring course it flew;

Glowing still with young surprise!
The shaft stood trembling in her lover's heart: Never to the virgin's lute
He felleso fails by thunder's shock

This ear be deaf, this voice be mute!
From ocean's cliffs the rifted rock, Come, beauty, cause of anguish, heal its smart,
That falls and ploughs the groaning strand | -Now temperate measures beat, unalter'd else
He fell by love's unwilling hand,

my heart.
Hapless maid! from eve to day,

Still my soul, for ever young,
Connal, iny lore; the breathless clay

Speak thyself divinely sprung!
My love, she calls--now roll. her frantic eyes, Wing’d for Heaven, embracing Earth,
Now bends them sad to earth-she sinks, she Link'd to all of mortal birth,
faints, she dies.-

Brute or man, in social chain
Together rest in Earth's parental womb,

Still link'd to all, who suffer pain. Her fairest offspring; mournful in the vale

Pursue the eternal law !-one power above I sit, while, issuing from the moss-grown tomb,

Connects, pervades the whole that power din Your once-lov'd voices seem to swell the gale.-

vine is love,
Pensive Memory wakes her powers,
Oft recals your smiling hours
Of fleeting life, that wont to more
On downy wings of youth and love;

TO THE THAMES.
The smiling hours no more return;
-All is hush'd-pour silent urn

Nearer to my grove, O Thames !

Lead along thy sultry streams,
The mountain covers with its awful shade,
Far froin the haunts of men in pathless desert Summer fires the stagnant air,

Come and cool thy bosom there!
laid,

Trees shall shelter, Zephyrs play,
Odours court tby smiling stay ;

There the lily lifts her head,

I quit thy lyre-but still the traini
Fairest child of Nature's bed.

Of sweet sensations warms my brain.
Oh! Thames, my promise all was vain: What? though social joy and love
Autamnal storms, autumnal rain

Forget to haunt my sullen grove:
Have spoil'd that fragrance, stript those shades, Though there my soul, a stagnant flood,
llapless flower! that lily fades.-

Nor flows its own, or others good,
What? if chance, sweet evening ray,

Emblem of yon faded flower,
Or western gale of vernal day,

That, chill'd by frost, expands no more:
Blomentary bloom renews,

The dreary scene yet sometimes closes
Heavy with unfertile dews

When sleep inspires, op beds of roses,
It bends again, and seems to cry,

Such dear delusions, fairy charms
" Gale and sunshine, come not nigh!

As fancy dreams in virtue's arms.
Why reclaim from winter's power

For see, a gracious form is near!
This wither'd stalk, no more a flower !”

She comes to dry my falling tear.
Such a flower, my youthful prime,

One pious hand in pity spread
Chill'd by rigour, sapp'd by time,

Supports my else unshelter'd head;
Shrinks beneath the clouded storm :

The other waves to chase away
What? if Beauty's beaming form,

The spectres haunting all my day:
and Cambrian virgin's vocal air

She calls-above, below, around
Expand to smiles my brow of care :

Sweet fragrance breathes, sweet roices sound
That beam withdrawn, that melting sound, Such a balm to wounded minds,
The dews of death hang heavier round,

Gentle Kitty, slumber finds;
No more to spring, to bloom, to be,

Such a change is misery's due-
I bow to fate and Heaven's decree.

- Who wakes to grief should dream of you.
Come then, Cambrian virgin, come,
With all thy music seek my tomb,
With all thy grace, thy modest state,
With all thy virtues, known too late!

TO MISS K- PL
Come, a little moment spare

Ah! bow to music, bow my lays
From pious rites and filial care !
Give my tomb-no heart-felt sigh,

To beauty's noblest art!
No tear convulsing pity's eye!

To reach the bosoin mine the praise,
Gifts oft too endearing name

But thine to melt the heart.
For you to grant, for me to claim;

"Tis mine to close affliction's wounds,
But bring the song- hose healing sounds

To brighten pleasure's eye:
Were balın to all my festering wounds.

But thine, by sweet dissolving sounds,
Bring the lyre--by music's power

To make it bliss to die.
My soul entranc'd shall wait the hour,

My notes but kindle cold desire,
The dread majestic hour of doom, [gloom, Ah! what

you

feel for me!
When through the grave, and through the Diviner passions thine inspire,
Heaven shall burst in floods of day :

Ah! what I feel for thee!
Dazzled with so fierce a ray,
My aching eyes shall turn to view

Associate then thy voice, thy touch,
Its inilder beams reflect from you.

Owed to mine thy powers !
Be such at least, nor blush at such

Connubial union our's !
TO MISS K-P-
Gextle Kitty, take the lyre

TO MISS

KP
Thy magic hands alone inspire!
But wake not once such swelling chords

Wuy, Kitty, with that tender air,
As rouse ambition's stormy lords,

Those eyes to earth inclin'd,
Nor airs that jocund tabors play

Those timid blushes, why despair
To dancing youth in shades of May,

Of empire o'er mankind ?
Nor songs that shake old Picton's towers,
When feast and inusic blend their powers !

Ah! know, that beauty's surest arms
But notes of mildest accent call,

Are candour, softness, ease,
Of plaintive touch and dying fall;

Your sweet distrust of pleasing charms
Notes, to which thy hand, thy tongue,

Is half the charm to please. -
Thy every tender power is strung.-

Respect your own harmonious art!
Cambrian maid, repeat that strain !

For love sécurest wounds,
Sooth my widow'd bosom's pain!

Securest takes th' imprison'd heart
Its passions own thy melting tones;

Entranc'd by magic sounds !
Sighs succeed to bursting groans;
Soft and softer still they flow,

If flowers of fiction's growth you call

This wreath that truth bestows;
Breathing more of love than woé;
Glistening in my eye appears

Survey around your attick wall
A tenderer dew than bitter tears;

Each pencill'd form that glows.
Springing hope despair beguiles,
And sadness softens into smiles.

1

Drawings from antique statues,

And ask the youths! why heavenly fair

Of isles, concentering Nature's charms, Their tenderest vows inspires ?

Lapt in peaceful Ocean's arms; If Juno's more than regal air,

Of that Hesperian world, which lies Or fierce Minerva's fires ?

Beneath the smile of southern skies,

Where Zephyr waves unflagging wings, 'Tis bashful Venus they prefer

Where Albion's summers, Latian springs Retiring from the view,

Join thy autumns, smiling France, And, what their lips address to her,

And lead along th' eternal dance !
Their bosons feel for you.

These enchanting scenes, and all
That wake to form at fancy's call,
And all the sportive pencil traces,

Are feeble types of living graces.
TO MISS K-P-

Of moral charms, that mental throne

Unclouded beauty calls her own. Your bosom's sweet treasures thus ever disclose!

Where all the Sun's meridian blaze For believe my ingenuous confession,

Is twilight gloom to virtue's rays. The veil meant to bide them but only bestows

There with richer blended sweets A softness transcending expression.

Wedded Spring her Autumn meets; “ Good Heaven!” cries Kitty,“ what language There Fernandes' brighter shore, I hear!

There a purer Chili's ore, Have I trespass'd on chastity's laws?

Fruits and flowers are there combin'd
Is my tucker's clear muslin indecently clear? In fairer Tinian_Kitty's mind.

Is it no sattin apron, but gauze?”
Ah no!--not the least swelling charm is descried

Thro' the tucker, too bashfully decent; THE COMPLAINT OF CAMBRIA. And your apron hides all that short aprons can hide,

TO MISS K- P- SETTING TO From the fashion of Eve to the present.

MUSIC, AND SINGING ENGLISH

VERSES. The reil, too transparent to hinder the sight,

Is what modesty throws on your mind : DONE INTO ENGLISH FROM THE WELCU ORIGINAL
That veil only shades, with a tenderer light,
All the feminine graces behind.

DEGENERATE maid, no longer ours !
Can Saxon ditties suit thy lyre?
Accents untun'd, that breathe no powers

To melt the soul, or kindle martial fire ?
TO MISS
KP

It ill becomes thee to combine
Si un arbre avoit du sentiment, il se plairoit à

Such hostile airs with notes divine, voir celui qui le cultive se reposer sous son

In Cambrian shades, the Druids' hallow'd bounds, ombrage, respirer le parfum de ses fleurs, Whose infant voice has lisp'd the liquid Celtic

sounds. gouter la douceur de ses fruits : Je suis cet arbre, cultivé par vous, & la Nature m' a Revere thy Cambria's flowing tongue ! donné une ame.

MARMONTEL. | Though high-born Hoel's lips are dumb,

Cadwallo's harp no more is strung,
Amid thy native mountains, Cambrian fair,

And silence sits on soft Lluellyn's tomb :
Were some lone plant supported by thy care,
Say'd from the blast, from winter'schilling powers,

Yet songs of British bards remain

That, wedded to thy vocal strain, In vernal suns, in vernal shades and showers, Would swell melodious on the mountain breeze, By thee reviving : did the favoured tree

And roll on Milford's wave to distant echoing Exist, and blossom and mature by thee:

seas.To that selected plant did Heaven dispense, With vegetable life, a nobler sense:

O sing thy sires in genuine strains ! Would it not bless thy virtues, gentle maid?

When Rome's resistless arm prevail'd, Would it not woo thy beauties to its shade?

When Edward delug'd all my plains', Bid all its buds in rich luxuriance shoot,

And all the music of my mountains fail'd; To crown thy summer with autumnal fruit,

When all her flames rebellion spread, Spread all its leaves, a pillow to thy rest,

Firmly they stood–sing the dead ! Give all its flowers to languish on thy breast,

The theme majestic to the lyre belongs, Reject the tendrils of th' uxorious vine,

To Picton's lofty walls, and Cambrian virgins And stretch its longing arms to circle thine?

songs. Yes; in creation's intellectual reign, Where life, sense, reason, with progressive chain, Edward I. put to death all the Welch bards, Dividing, blending, for:n th' harmonious whole: -That plant am I, distinguish'd by a soul.

TO MISS K-P

WITH ANSON'S VOYAGE. Raptur'd traveller, cease the tales Of Tinian's lawns, Fernandes' vales;

1

OF TWO IMPRESSIONS FROM A FINE ANTIQUE SEAL

THE ONE BY LADY P THE OTHER BY M13S J

WAX.

P

ON THE SUBJECT OF THE

ON A PRESENT TO THE AUTHOR,

Yet fame reports, that monkish shades

At midnight never fail
To haunt the mansions once their own,

And tread its cloisters pale.
OF THE HEAD OF ALEXANDER ;

ON PAPER;

One night, more prying than the rest,

It chanc'd a friar came, -> IN

And enter'd where on beds of down

Repos'd each gentle dame.
Fair scn'pture of Ammon's young graces!
My lady with whiin shall we tax?

Here, softening midnight's raren gloom,
On paper who marks thy faint traces,

Lay R- -?, blushing maid; Which Stolla stamps lively in wax?

There, wrapt in fulds of cypress lawn,

Her virtuous aunt was laid.
of their hearts they make mutual confession : He stopp'd, he gaz'd, to wild conceits

That, cold to emotions once feit;
The mother's scarce viells to impression-

His roring fancy run,
-The daughter's cin soften and melt.

He took the aunt for prioress,

And R e for a nun,
It hap'd that R 's capuchin,

Across the couch display'd,

To deem her sister of the veil,
MONUMENT IN ARCADLA.

The holy sire betray'd.
O you, that dwell where shepherds reign,

Accosting then the youthful fair, Arcadian youths, Arcadian maids,

His raptur'd accents broke; To pastoral pipe who slanc'd the plain,

Amazement chill'd the waking nymphı; Why pensive now beneath the shades?

She trein bled as he spoke. “ Approach her virgin tomb),” they cry,

“ Hail halcyon days! Hail holy nun! « Behold the verse inscrib'd above,

This wondrous change explain : "Once too in Arcady was I,

Again religion lights her lamp,
Behold what dreams are life and love!"

Reviews these walls again.
“Por ever blest the porrer that checkt

Reformists' wild disorders,
ON THE SAME.

Restor'd again the church's lands.

Reviv'd our sacred orders.
Sweet Arcadly, where shepherds reign,
Your simple youths, your simple maids,

“To monks indeed, from Edward's days, With pastoral dance still cheer the plain,

Belong'd this chaste foundation; Their pastoral pipe still charms the shades :

Yet sister nuns may answer too This only song still meets our ear,

The founder's good donation. It swells the breeze, it fills the grove;

"Ah! well thy virgin vows are heard : What joys so sweet as Nature's here?

For man were never given What joy of Nature sweet as love?

Those charms, reserv'd to nobler ends,

'Thou spotless spouse of Heaven!

“Yet speak what cause from morning mass HITCHIN CONVEXT,

Thy ling’ring steps delays:

Haste to the deep-mouth'd organ's peal
A TALE.

To join thy vocal praise.
Wuere Hitch's gentle current glides,

“Awake thy abbess sisters all; An ancient convent stands,

At Mary's holy shrine,
Sacred to prayer and holy rites

With bended knees and suppliant eyes
Ordain’d by pious hands.

Approach, thou nun divine!"-
Here monks of saintly Benedict

“No Non am I,” recov'ring cried Their nightly vigils kept,

The nymph; “ No nun, I say,
And lofty anthems shook the choir

Nor nun will be, un'ess this fright
At hours when mortals slept.

Should turn my locks to grey.
But Harry's wide reforming band

" 'Tis true, at church I seldom fail That sacred order wounded;

When aunt or uncle leads; He spoke-from forth their hallow'd walls Yet never rise by four o'clock The friars fied confounded.

To tell my morning beads. Then wicked laymen entring in,

“ No mortal lover yet, I row, Those cloisters fair prophan'd;

My virgin heart has fixt,
Now riot loud usurps the scat

But yet I bear the creatures talk
Where bright devotion reign'd.

Without a grate betwixt.
Ev'n to the chapel's sacred roof,

“To Heav'n my eyes are often cast Its echoing vanlts along,

(From Heav'n their light began) Resounds the flute, and sprightly dance,

Yet deign sometimes to view on Earth
And hymeneal song.

It's image stampt on man,