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Next morning a peasant pass’d by,
And saw on the shore rudely cast The lovers; ah! clos'd was cach eye,
And their arms round each other twin'd fast! Now the willows so green ever wave
Their leaves o'er the lovers still tomb, And the lilies delight on their grave With beauty and fragrance to bloom.
Lynn, April 13th.
A lovely form, and beauteous face,
As careless spendthrifts squander wealth,
Then hafte, Flirtilla, would I say,
March 8, 1793,
EPIGRAM. TO THE MANY WHO WONDER AT MR. Fox's CONDUCT,
EVELOPE, I believe, I can,
The reason why this noted man Would French refinements introduce ;
'Tis from a wish to heal his fame,
He wants to wipe a tarnish from his name,
AN OCCASIONAL SATYRIST.
Be niggards of advice on no pretence,
Pope's ESSAY ON CRITICISM.
An Epifle to a Friend, with other Poems. By the Au. thor of " The Pleasures of Memory.” pp. 47. 4to.
Cadell and Davies, 1798.
the extent of their reputation, and to know that whatever doth not add to their fame, must infallibly 1 lefsen it. Had this circumstance occurred to Mr.
Rogers, the author of The Pleasures of Memory, we do not think that he would have put upon us the very painful duty of censuring him for the present publication. If indeed, conscious as he must be that his works will descend to posterity, he meant merely to add to the bulk of those works, by the performance now before us, he has undoubtedly done as much, and as certainly no more than he intended. But we cannot think so of this poet; and therefore, although we may find something to commend in these pages, let it be remembered that as a whole, we cannot view them in any other light than as detracting from the established merit of their author.
Seeing very little worth notice in the “ Epistle to a Friend,” we present the ensuing small poems to the readers of this miscellany. Vol. IV,
TO A FRIEND ON HIS MARRIAGE. « On thee, bleft youth, a father's hand confers
The maid thy earliest, fondest wishes knew. Each soft enchantment of the foul is her's;
Thine be the joys to firm attachment due. As on she moves with hesitating grace,
She wins assurance from his foothing voice; And, with a look the pencil could not trace,
Smiles thro' her blushes, and confirms the choice. Spare the fine tremors of her feeling frame!
To thee the turns-forgive a virgin's fears ! To thee she turns with sureft, tenderest claim;
Weakness that charms, reluctance that endears ! At each response the sacred rite requires,
From her full bosom bursts the unbidden sigh, A strange mysterious awe the scene inspires;
And on her lips the trembling accents die. O'er her fair face what wild emotions play!
What lights and shades in sweet confusion blend!
And settled sunshine on her soul descend !
That hand shall strew each flinty path with flowers; And those blue eyes, with mildest lustre fraught,
Gild the calın current of domestic hours !"
A FAREWELL. « Once more, enchanting girl, adicu!
I must be gone, while yet I may. Oft shall I weep to think of you;
But here I will not, cannot stay. The sweet expression of that face,
For ever shifting, yet the same,
I dare not turn to trace,
One little lock of those so blest,
And on your white neck love to reft.