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So fings the swan, her dying notes admir'd,
Her own sad requiem to eternal rest. “ Mary, dear maid, though ocean rolls between,
“ And far, far off is white-cliff'd Albion's shore, “ Some sweet remark of thine illumes each scene,
" Thy image breathes in ev'ry op'ning flow'r. “ In the carnation, rich with coral glow,
“ The milder rose-bud, and the jess’mine fair, • Thy lip, thy modest blush, thy skin of snow,
And, in the almond brown, thy glossy hair. " If the tall palm-tree bows beneath the breeze,
“ Thy easy shape waves graceful in my view; « If the sweet blue-bell glistens through the trees,
“ 'Tis Mary's eye, impearld with pity's dew.” Thus would he sing, till years of tedious toil
Sweet competency's meed had well acquir'd; He came full laden with the spoiler's spoil,
And just in view of happiness--expir'd. Ah! what remains to close the dire affair ?
Or who can paint the maiden as she stood? Clasping her hands, and frantic with despair,
She plung'd, impetuous, in the raging flood. Ah, hapless lovers!—dear presumptuous maid !
There may thy woes, thy cruel sorrows, ceaseFruitless, alas! is now all human aid,
The hand which bruis'd can only give thee peace.
HENRY AND ELIZA.
LIZA was beyond compare
The pride of all the plain;
Ador'd by ev'ry Twain.
The beauteous maid to grace,
Stand pictur’d in her face;
A fate disastrous wove,
For one short hour of love.
Of parents' watchful care,
A prey to ev'ry snare.
If that a fault we deem
Too lavish of esteem.
In wiles that others fear;
Were, like herself, fincere.
Had fifteen summers run,
Her faith and honour were betray'd
Her virtue was undone.
To win her favour ftrove,
And early gain’d her love,
With each persuasive pow'r, He fill'd discretion's kind alarm,
And cropp'd the virgin flow'r.
Her pure unspotted fame,
And fan his lawlefs flame.
honour's dictates unrestrain'd, By faith nor justice sway'd ; That confidence his vows obtain'd
Fillid Henry's breast with care:
Protect him from despair.
All wither in their bloom ;
Untimely to the tomb.
Its author in the face
Invective and disgrace?
No penitence atone;
She wanted for her own.
Unpitying her diftress,
Nor strove to make them less.
Her lov'd companions turn’d away, .
To former friendship cold;
Each breast at woe recoils;
But last while fortune smiles. Too just life's guilty joys t' indure,
Too weak its thorns to brave, No friend but death she could procure,
No comfort but the grave. Awhile she Heav'n's forgiveness pray'd
For errors long confest;
And silent sunk to reft.
From custom's rigid pow'r,
One inadvertant hour. Unskill'd in life's precarious way,
Should love their bosoms burn,
They never can return:
Their sad experience mourn;
Abandon them with scorn.
On most compassion's tear;
You thus refuse to cheer? O! rather kindly condescend
To aid the drooping fair, Your mercy
your justice blend, And fnatch them from despair. Eliza's death when Henry heard,
He gave a piteous groan;
But more he fear'd his own.
Guilt every bliss destroys;
And damp'd his ev’ning joys.
With anguish and dismay,
Which held Eliza's clay.
Of all existence tir'd,
And mournfully expir'd.
'Gainst man's perfidious arts;
When honour once departs.
Where passion is declard,
And authorize regard.
No tears unceasing flow!
Without a mother's woe.
of an Hermitage. THOE'ER thou art these lines now reading, I joy my lonely days to lead in
This desart drear, That with remorse a conscience bleeding
Hach led me here.