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TO A YOUNG LADY...ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. 305
| Lost every function, vanish'd every sense : ON MEN BEING DEPRIVED, FROM CUSTOM AND
Is this thy lot, divine benevolence? DELICACY, OF ENJOYINC SOCIAL FRIEND
Approach no more, such bitter anguish, near SHIP WITH THE FAIR SEX.
So soft a bosom; flow alone the tear,
That dew of Heaven, O maid ! to Heaven allied, Lad soft Aspasia's sex been man,
Thy great Redeemer shed for man and died. What friendship's holy chains
Good angels mourn creation's glories lost, Had link'd our beings, fortune's plan,
And mourning please, reseinble him the most ; Our pleasures and our pains ?
Flow then thy tear, ordain'd by Heaven's decree, Alike our ruder, milder sports,
For bliss to others, sweeter bliss to thee ! Our studies too the samne,
With pity's pangs her dear sensations feel; Companions both in shades and courts,
The shaft that wounds thee, drops a balm to heal. In paths of love or fame.
Thy soul expanding, like a vernal flower,
Shall glow the brighter in affliction's shower By bright collision, patriot beams
For every tear to soff'ring virtue given, Had flush'd from soul to soul,
Itself approving, and approv'd by Heaven. And war bad seen, in union's streams,
Weep then, but weep anuther's fate alone; Our tide of glory roll.
Let smiles be still attendant on thy own. There fate, that strikes the noblest breast,
Had surely reverenc'd thine ; The thirsty lance I then had blest
ON THE DEATH OF AN INPANT. For only wounding mine. But ah! my sweeter downy hours,
How blest is he whom nature's gentle hand Had I been chang'd, not you;
Has snatch'd from human life and human woes, What tranquil joys, if kinder powers
Evin in his childish days, ere yet he knew Had made me woman too!
Or sin, or pain, or youthful passion's force!
In earth's soft lap, beneath the flowery turf, Made each the other's softer care,
His peaceful ashes sleep; to Heaven ascends One table then had fed,
Th' unspotted soul, declar'd by voice divine One chamber lodg'd the faithful pair,
A guest well pleasing--Then no longer mourn, Ah do not blush !-one bed.
Thou drooping parent, nor bewail him lost Both sitting at one busy loom
In life's first bloom, when infant reason dawn'd, In nature's vernal bow'r,
And the young mind, unfolding every power, Had rivall’d nature's vernal bloom,
Gave promise fair of manhood, transport fill'd
The mother's hosom, pondering every word Creating both one flow'r.
And action there. She now lamenting loud Both screen'd from summer's sultry view,
Deplores him, from her vain embraces torn In shades by haunted stream,
By unrelenting fate, and fierce disease ; Had own'd the moral vision true
Like eastern storms that blast the opening year.
Yet bending o'er the brook,
N M , From great creation's book ;
WRITTEN AT BRIGHTHELMSTON. And felt onr mixing souls refine
Lovely N- n! rise, and see In purer wisdom's ray,
Modest morn resemble thee ! The being virtue's friend and thine
Ocean siniles with your repose, Had clear'd our mists away.
Come to seas, where Venus rose My morning incense, ev'ning pray'r,
Bathing, Dr. Pool observes, With thine, had soar'd above,
Braces all the optic nerves. With thine ascending sweeter there
“ Hearens,” she cries, “ what idle whim! . On wings of song and love.
Youthful eyes are seldom dim; Vain dreams! for custoin's lars, combin'd
Mine can mark the distant sail,
Or lowing herds in Sussex' vale;
Scarce a spire or cottage smoke,
Or cloud embracing mountain oak;
An object scarce of land or sea
True-but eyes that distant roam,
Frequent fail for scenes at home.
Let example make ine clearer,
Every mild reflected grace,
That angel form, that angel face,
A world of wonders all can view,
Envy only blind and-you.
And turn no more the giddy rounds
But range beyond material bounds,
Eternity, and space!
Who deck'd with N- 's name a feeble page; ! Explain the cause that guides,
Has arm'd no bitter stings of Satan's rage. Precipitates the tides.
For shameless folly dips ber shafts in gall; Their laws, their measure, scan,
· The dews of praise, a precious ointment, fall. | And liberty, and man!
In every grace, beneath your sweet control; I Like him, the bird of Jove!
-"What waste," she cries, “in such pursuit,
Let Newton sail the sky!
Philosopher ?- fly:
Permitted to your guidance come and share To drink the liquid light,
The talents trusted to their fruitful care!. I Ip angry seas and night.
Your hymn of triumph—'tis no song of mine; Amid fresh dews and flowers ! 'Tis Heaven that calls you to partake your fame Be his the justly purchas'd fate, With God the giver, and this gift divine.
The sober lesson ours.
“ From clouds descending, let us try VERSES
What humbler regions give!
Let others soar to fall and die!
'Tis ours to creep, and live."
[roar; He lanch'd the bark, and brav'd the tempest's
ANSWER TO THE FOREGOING He trusted here the faith of simple swains,
BY MISS G-
No more let science tempt thy searching eyes One shepherd wander'd on the lonely hill, | Beyond the bounds prescribid to mortal signala One village-maid explor'd the distant rill. No more advent'rous mount the lofty skies, But mark the glittering scenes succeeding these;
· And daring, penetrate the realms of light See peopled all the shores, and healing seas; Yet, friend to Britain, flows alike the wave
S; I With humble mind go trace thy Maker's hand
In every smiling valley, fertile plain;
Revere his wisdom in the stormy main! strand,
Nor thoughtless view the vast tremendous sed, Nor danger chill'd, nor high ambition fir'd
Whose course impetuous power dive That wanton bosom, by the loves inspird :
trains ; His languid sails the monarch here had furla | Whose rushing tide, control'd Dy. Had gain'd a N- n's smile, and lost the world.
Forbears to violate the flowry plains. Nor yet confine to these thy wand'ring sight,
While splendid gems the face of Heav'n adomj. TO MISS G
Nor heedless view the radiant lamps of night, FROM BRIGHTHELMSTONE.
Nor heedless view the Sun that gilds the morti Come, Stella, let us climb the heights
But turn with praise to Him who reigos above Where purer spirits flow,
Supreme o'er works that speak almigas And upward point our mental flights,
power; And mock the scenes below.
O! turn a grateful bosom breathing love,
And learn the noblest lesson--to adore. Matthew xxv. 2 Charles the IId, after the battle of Worcester, escaped to France in a fishing-boat, from Brighthelmstone,
ON A YOUNG GENTLEMAN'S DEATH...INSCRIPTION. 307
| Blest mansion then, simplicity's abode, ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG Where smiling innocence look'd up to God, GENTLEMAN.
Where nature's genuine gracescharm'd the heart,
Or nature, polish'd but by classic art. [beams, Go, mournful spirit, wing thy dreary way,
There fancy, warm'd with brightest, chastest Leave a lov'd mansion, leave the cheerful day; I
| The saint's high rapture, and the poet's dreams, A naked wanderer on the winter's wind,
While virtue left, delighting there to dwell, Ah leave, reluctant, youth and strength behind!
The pensive mountain, and the hermit's cell.Not long a wanderer, to that happier shore
There the good teacher held by turns to youth Be Heaven thy guide, where mourning is no
The blaze of fiction and pure light of truth, In purer mansions, in a form divine, (more!
Who, less by precept than example fir'd, Immortal youth, immortal joy, be tbine!
Glow'd as he taught, inspiring and inspir'd.
Nor think, gay revellers, this awful roof
Echoed no sounds but wisdom's harsh reproof; INSCRIPTION FOR A FOUNTAIN. The social board, attendant mirth, was there, O you, who mark what flowrets gay,
The smile unconscious of to morrow's care,
With every tranquil joy of wedded life, What gales, what odours breathing near,
The gracious children, and the faithful wife. What sheltering shades from summer's ray
In dance, in song, in harmless sports approv'd, Allure my spring to linger here :
There youth has frolick'd, there soft maids have Yet see me quit this margin green,
lov’d. Yet see me deaf to pleasure's call,
There one, distinguish'd one-not sweeter blows Explore the thirsty haunts of men,
In simpler ornament attir'd, the rose, Yet see my bounty flow for all.
The rose she cull'd to deck the nuptial lower, O learn of me--no partial rill,
Herself as fair-a transitory flower.No slumbering selfish pool be you;
Thus a short hour--and woods and turrets But social laws alike fulfil ;
fall; O flow for all creation too!
The good, the great, the beauteous, perish all.
See wisdom's place usurp'd by folly's sons, ON THE CONVERTING THE LATE MR. WOOD- | And scorners sit on virtue's vacant thrones. DESON'S HOUSE, AT KINGSTON, INTO A
See neighbouring Combe's old genius quit its POOR-HOUSE, AND CUTTING DOWN THE
[towers; GREAT WALK OF HIGH TREES BEFORE IT. | Not Warwick's ' name preserv'd his gothic Where the broad path-way fronts yon ancient | Nor distant see new royal domes deride
What half remains of Wolsey's ancient pride! seat, Approach not, stranger, with unhallow'd feet, While yet this humbler pile survives to prove Nor mock the spot, unshelter'd now, and bare ! A mansion worthy of its master's love: The grove's old honours rose majestic there: Like him, still welcomes to its liberal door It's giant arms extending to defend
Whom most he honour'd, honouring most the Thy reverend temples, man's and virtue's friend!
poor; Secure thy walk that unpierc'd gloom along,
Like him, the lisping infant's blessing shares, No storm approach'd to silence Homer's song;
And age's gratitude in silent prayers. No beam to wound thy Heav'n-directed eye :
While such partake the couch, the frugal feast, The world's near tumult swept unheeded by.
No regal chambers boast an equal guest; Now, low as thine, these towering heads are laid, For, gracious Maker, by thy own decree, No more embower the mansion in their shade, Receiving mercy is receiving Thee ! Time-honour'd pile! that owning thee its lord, Saw ancient manuers, ancient faith, restor'd; " Combe-Neville, near Kingston, built by the In renovated youth beheld again
king-making earl of Warwick. Saturnian days, the good Eliza's reign.
• The new apartments at Hampton Court, With thee too sheltering many an angel guest, raised on the ruins of part of Wolsey's palace, For what, but Heaven, serener than thy breast?