And when on this chill'd form of mine,
Pale death has fixt his icy hands,
Then fhall our fouls again combine
Love's pureft flame in feraph bands.
TAY, fell Ambition, ftay the dreadful blow ;-
Oh, check th' impetuous ardour of thy foul,
Within thy breaft let gen'rous feelings glow-
And mild humanity thy deeds controul !
O'er yonder scenes, O! turn thy darting eyes-
The blazing hamlet, ravag'd fields furvey;
Th' expiring foldier, as he mangled lies-
The matron's tears, the peafant's fore difmay! Now, view fierce bands yon hapless town affailInflam'd with favage rage, their looks affright; Intrepid fee them tow'ring ramparts fcale,
The dangers braving of the bloody fight.
Thro' ev'ry street, lo! carnage rages fierce-
And groups of valiant herces gafp for breath;
There the keen bay'nets aged botoms pierce-
And cherub infants feel the pangs of death.
Hark! floating in the gale, what founds of woe !-
Wafted they seem from yonder cottag'd plain;
Ah! view, approach Britannia's daughters flow,
Groaning with anguish for their husbands flain.
Lo! Poland ravag'd by triumphant foes-
Barbarian defpots, who, through luft of fame,
Wage ruthless war against the world's repofe,
Nor feel, or pangs of pity, or of shame.
Fierce as the tygers of the torrid waste,
Thy minifters of vengeance prowl around;
Manfions and fanes are rapidly eras'd-
And rage infuriate fweeps the cultur'd ground.
Close to thy throne, pale, ghaftly murder stands,
Impatient waiting for thy mandates dire;
Who thirfts in human gore t'imbrue his hands,
Ferocious fmiling when thy foes expire.
Say, tho' thy prowefs mighty realms subdue,
And laurels blooming deck thy ftately head;
Tho' acclamations all thy fteps purfue,
Doth not the field deject thee-ftrew'd with dead ?
Can wide domains, or wealth, or pow'r atone
The facrifice of one poor fimple swain,
Forc'd to obey the edicts from thy throne,
And fwell the glories of thy tyrant reign?
To white-rob'd Peace, with tender bofom bleft,
Ambition, liften; vengeful thoughts resign;
Delufive honour and falfe fame deteft-
And bid the world no more in mis'ry pine.
CN VISITING, AFTER ABSENCE, THE TOMB OF A MOST DEAR FRIEND.
ES-'tis thy fmile, it burfts upon my fight
E'en thro' the flony tomb, I fee the tear
Brighten thine eye's fond luftre, emblems dear,
That wont to welcome me to home's delight.
Smile-faid I? fmile!-can moulder'd afhes smile?
Can tears of joy ftart from thine cyeless bones?
Ah, no! nor canft thou hear my heart's fad moans,
Which, feeding forrow, forrows pangs beguile.
Yet fhall I fee again the fmile of joy,
Which pain fhall ne'er embitter, where e'en now
Celestial melodies thy powers employ,
And wreaths of glory circle round thy brow.
But first muft I put off this coil of clay,
And then my pilgrim foul shall spring to realms of day.
ERE I to walk till eventide
Around the park," fays Ned,
"I ftill fhou'd fee yon fon of pride,
With high-erected head.
It must be irksome, Jack, I think.-"
"It irksome," drawls the wight,
"No, no: for, troth it cannot sink,
The air is not fo light."
So have I feen a paper thing,
By children call'd a kite,
Sail high in air, by faften'd ftring,
Poiz'd in its tow'ring height.
AIL! heavenly maid, my penfive mind
Invokes thy woe-fubduing strain,
For there a fhield my foul can find,
Which fubjugates each dagger'd pain.
When beauty fpurns the lover's fighs,
'Tis thine foft pity to inspire,
And cold indiff'rence vanquifh'd lies
Beneath thy myrtle-vested lyre.
Oh! could contention's dæmon hear
Thy feraph voice, his blood-lav'd fpear
He'd drop, and own thy pow'r:
That fmiling o'er our hapless land,
Sweet peace might call her hallow'd band,
To crown the feftal hour.
LOVE not thee, O! Night, when shiv'ring gales
Roar midft the foliage of the foreft wide,
Or Cynthia 'neath a cloud her beauties hide,
And the mild fplendour of the landscape veils.
Her filvery rays that tremble on the stream,
And gild the turrets of the mould'ring tow'r,
And give a twilight luftre to the bow'r,
More lovely to my orbs of vifion feem.
And if fweet Philomel her plaintive tale
Chaunts from the lonely copfe, my bofom feels
A fympathetic penfive joy; which heals
Awhile the wounds of care and forrow pale;-
The foul attun'd her grateful vefpers pours,
And the CREATOR wife, of thee, O! Night, adores.
AN IRREGULAR ODE.
NOME, blooming feraph! dove-like Peace!
Again revint this our fea-girt fhore,
Oh! bid the British lion cease
To shake his tawny mane, and fiercely roar.-
Say, beauteous goddess! say,
Where doft thou now thy charms display?
In what fequefter'd cell
Doft thou now delight to dwell?
Long fince haft thou forfook the eastern world,
Long fince Britannia hath thy lofs bewail'd,
Long fince hath Mars his bloody flag unfurl'd,
And carnage dire and mifery pievail'd.-
Long fince the trumpet's "war-denouncing" notes
Have made the foldier's heart with valour glow,
And cannons open'd wide their brazen throats
To pour destruction on the preffing foe.→→→
Do thou, fweet Peace! these scenes difpel,
Let war's tumultuous din be heard no more,
Here, goddess! ever deign to dwell,
And to thy once-lov'd ifle thy bounteous gifts restore.
Here thy facred olive rear
With fond maternal care,
So fhall commerce spread her fails,
Wafted on aufpicious gales;
So fhall fmiling plenty reign,
And deck the fields with waving grain;
So fhall the arts and sciences increase,
And Albion's monarch spend his latter days in peace.
Remembrance wakes with all her busy train.
IN early years, before my fimple forg
In rhyming measure fang of luckless love, When debonnair I trod the meads along,
Nor mufing fought the "high o'er arching grove
Then, eie the fun began his circling race,
I topp'd the hills t'inhale the "breath of morn," Survey'd enraptured nature's verdant face,
Or tir'd, repos'd beneath the flow'ring thorn.
At noon I join'd the merry jocund train
Of youths, whole hearts no turpitude annoy'd; Whofe bofoms felt no agonizing pain,
From health impair'd, or innocence decoy'd.
Then evening led me to yon antique hall,*
Where science nurs'd my young compeers to fame, Taught them to follow fair ambition's call, And fhun the paths of infamy and shame.
*Beaumont Hall, near Redbourn, Herts.
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