"But oh! I tremble for Britannia's ftate, "May guardian pow'rs avert the dire prefage! "For well fhe knows, at our untimely fate "How heav'n's dread vengeance smote each fin
"The regal staff afpiring BOLINBROKE "Snatch'd with rude grafp from RICHARD'S "princely hand;
"Loos'd from hell's confines, civil Discord shook "The dubious throne, and tore the bleeding land.
"When ARTHUR died, imperious HENRY's thirst "Of fubjects blood nor heeded fex nor age; "His wives a facrifice to vagrant lust, "His nobles victims to tyrannic rage.
"When pious CHARLES in right fraternal reign'd, "Rebellion proudly ftalk'd from shore to shore, "Her laws, her rights, her holy faith profan'd, And dy'd the guilty land with royal gore.
"Yet ah! may pity move relenting heav'n!
"Enough fhe groans beneath her prefent woe;
"Enough to vengeance is already giv'n; "Her FREDERIC's dead; there needs no other "blow."
Scarce had he spoken, when the bird of day 'Gan morn's approach with clarion shrill declare, At once th' unbodied phantoms fade away,
The fond illufion all diffolves in air.
BY A GENTLEMAN FORMERLY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN.
Te dea, te fugiunt venti, te nubila cæli,
Adventumque tuum; tibi fuaveis dedala tellus
Submittit flores; tibi rident æquora ponti;
Placatumque nitet diffufo lumine cælum.
ENCE, iron-fcepter'd WINTER, hafte
To des'late Ruffian wafte !
Where far remote from man's refort
Thou hold it thy joyless court;
Where ever beat by ftorms and fhow'rs
Thy gloomy Gothic caftle tow'rs;
Amid whofe howling ifles and halls,
Where no gay fun-beam paints the walls,
On ebon throne, thou lov't to fhroud,
Thy hoary head in fable cloud.
M
E'n now, before the fun's foft heat,
Sullen I fee thy train retreat:
EURUS, with lightning in his hands,
That on a tiger mounted stands;
High-figur'd on whofe robe are shewn
Shipwrecks, and villages o'erthrown :
Grim AUSTER, dropping all with dew,
And clad in veft of watchet hue:
Next COLD, like Zemblan favage dreft,
Who boldly bares his hardy breaft:
With him his brother, fur-clad FROST,
His robe with icicles embost.
WINTER farewell! thy forefts hoar,
Thy frozen floods delight no more;
Farewell the fields, fo bare and wild!
But come thou rofe-cheek'd cherub mild,
Sweetest SUMMER! hafte thee here,
Once more to crown the gladden'd year.
Thee APRIL blythe, as long of yore,
Bermudas' vales he frolick'd o'er,
(Such is his wont, at early prime,
When the foft boughs begin to climb)
To gather balm of choiceft dews,
And patterns fair of various hues,
With which to paint in changeful dye,
The vernal year's embroidery;
To cull the effence of rich smells
In which to dip his blooming balls;
Thee, as he rov'd with genial feet,
He found an infant, fmiling fweet;
Where a tall citron's boughs imbrown'd
The green lap of the graffy ground.
There long upon a roseate bed,
'Thee with rare nectarine fruits he fed;
Till foon beneath his foft'ring care,
You bloom'd a goddess debonair;
And last he gave the blessed isle
Aye to be fway'd beneath thy fmile.
Hafte thee nymph! and hand in hand,
With thee bring a buxom band;
Bring fantastic-footed Joy,
With Sport that yellow-treffed boy.
Lead Health that loves, in early dawn.
To meet the milk-maid in the lawn:
Lead Pleasure, rural nymph, and Peace,
Meek cottage-loving fhepherdefs!
Bring the dear Muse, that loves to lean
On river-margins, moffy green.
But who is fhe, that bears thy train,
Pacing light the velvet plain?
The pale pink crowns her auburn hair,
Her treffes flow with paft'ral air;
Tis May the Grace-confest she stands
By branch of hawthorn in her hands:
Lo! near her trip the light-foot Dews
Their wings all dipt in iris-hues;
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