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Oh! breathe not, winds! Still be the water's motion!

Sleep, sleep, my bark! in silence on the main : So when to-morrow's light shall gild the ocean,

Once more mine eyes, shall see the coast of Spain. Vain is the wish! My last petition scorning,

Fresh blows the gale, and high the billows swell: Far shall we be before the break of morning:

Oh! then, for ever, native Spain, farewell!



To Soft maids and viljage thinds shall bring

fair Fidele's graffy tomb
Each op’ning sweet of earliest bloom,

And rifle all the breathing spring.
No wailing ghost shall dare appear,

To vex, with shrieks, this quiet grove;
But shepherd-lads assemble here,

And melting virgins own their love,
No wither'd witch shall here be seen,

No goblins lead their nightly crew;"
The female fays shall haunt the green,

And dress thy grave with pearly dew.
The red-breast oft, at ev'ning hours,

Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With hoary mofs and gather'd flow'rs,

To deck the ground where thou art laid.
When howling winds and beating rain,

In tempests, shake the fylvan cell,
Or ’midft the chase, on ev'ry plain,

The tender thought on thee shall dwell.
Each lonely scene shall thee restore,

For thee the tear be duiy shed;
Belov'd till life can charm no more,

And mourn'd till Pity's self be dead.

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Tow flood ELIZA on the wood-crown'd height,

, Sought with bold eye, amid the bloody ftrife, Her dearer felf, the partner of her life; From hill to hill the rushing host pursu'd, And view'd his banner, or believ'd she view'd. Pleas'd with the distant roar, with quicker tread, Faft by his hand one lisping boy she led; And one fair girl, amid the loud alarm, Slept on her 'kerchief, cradled by her arm; While round her brows bright beams of honour dart, And love's warm eddies circle round her heart. -Near and more near th' intrepid beauty press’d, Saw, through the driving smoke, his dancing crest, Heard the exulting shout, They run! they run!” “ Great God!" she cry'd, “ he's safe! the battle's won!"

A ball now hisses through the airy tides, (Some fury wing?d it, and some demon guides !) Parts the fine locks, her graceful head that deck, Wounds her fair ear, and sinks into her neck; The red stream, issuing from her azure veins, Dyes her white veil, her iv'ry bosom stains.--- Ah me !" she cry'd, and, finking on the ground, Kiss'd her dear babes, regardless of the wound, Oh! cease not yet to beat, thou vital urn! “ Wait gushing life, oh! wait my love's return! “ Hoarfe barks the wolf, the vulture screams from far ! The angel, Pity, shuns the walks of war ! Oh! spare, ye war-hounds, spare their tender age ! “ On me, on me,” she cry'd, " exhaust your rage! Then, with weak arms, her weeping babes caress'd, And, fighing, hid them in her blood-stain'd vest.

From tent to tent th' impatient warrior flies, Fear in his heart, and frenzy in his eyes; Eliza's name along the camp he calls, Eliza echoes through the canvas walls;. Quick through the murm'ring gloom his footsteps tread, O'er groaning heaps, the dying and the dead,

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Vault o'er the plain, and in the tangled wood,
Lo! dead ELIZA welt'ring in her blood !-

_Soon hears his liftning fon the welcome sounds, With open arms and sparkling eyes he bounds :“ Speak low," he cries, and gives his little hand, “ ELIZA sleeps upon the dew-cold fand; Poor weeping babe, with bloody frogers press’d, And try'd, with pouting lips, her milkless breast ! “ Alas! we both with cold and hunger quake" Why do you weep?-mama will soon awake." L" She'll wake no more !" the hopeless mourner cry'd, Upturn'd his eyes, and clasp?d his hands, and fighd; Stretch'd on the ground awhile entranc'd he lay, And press’d warm kiffes on the lifeless clay'; And then upsprung with wild convulsive start, And all the father kindled in his heart : “ Oh, Heav'ns !” he cry'd, “ my first rash vow forgive ! “ These bind to earth, for these I pray to live !" Round his chill babes he wrapt his crimson veft, And clasp?d them sobbing to his aching breaft.



Which shook the waves and rent the sky?
E'en now, e’en now, on yonder western shores,
Weeps pale Despair, and writhing Anguish roars :
E'en now in Afric's groves, with hideous yell,
Fierce SLAV'RY stalks, and flips the dogs of hell ;
From vale to vale the gath’ring cries rebound,
And fable nations tremble at the sound !

YE BANDS OF SENATORS! whose fuffrage sways
Britannia's realms, whom either Ind obeys;
Who right the injurd, and reward the brave,
Stretch your strong arm, for ye have pow'r to save!
Thron'd in the vaulted heart, his dread resorty
Inexorable CONSCIENCE holds his court;

With ftill small voice the plots of Guilt alarms,
Bares his mask'd brow, his lifted hand disarms :
But, wrapp'd in night with terrors all his own,
He speaks in thunder, when the deed is done.
Hear him, ye Senates! hear this truth sublime,

No radiant pearl, which crested Fortune wears,
No gem, that twinkling hangs from Beauty's ears,
Not the bright stars, which night's blue arch adorn,
Nor rising suns, that gild the vernal morn,
Shine with such lustre as the tear, that breaks,
For other's woe, down Virtue's manly cheeks.

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THE diamond's and the ruby's rays

Shine with a milder, finer flame,
And more attract our love and praise

Than beauty's self, if lost to fame.
But the sweet tear in pity's eye.

Transcends the diamond's brightest beams;
And the soft blush of modefty

More precious than the ruby seems.
The glowing gem, the sparkling stone,

May strike the fight with quick surprize ;
But truth and innocence alone

Can ftill engage the good and wise.
No glittring ornament or show

Will ought avail in grief or pain!
Only from inward worth can flow

Delight that ever shall remain.
Behold, ye fair, your lovely queen!

'Tis not her jewels, but her mind;
A meeker, purer, ne'er was seen;

It is her virtue charms mankind!



THAT filver founds, melodious, meet my ear,


Dropping, so sweetly fad, the pitying tear,

O'er the soft sorrows of a recent tale. Ah me! no fancy'd woes I hold to view;

The woe-fraught scene is prattled round the coast; Too true, alas ! and pity 'tis, 'tis true

William and Mary were together loft!
Nay, start not, Henry, for 'twas half conceal'd;

The simple facts too copious for my line :
Listen,-ah! lift,—the rest shall be revealid

Thou wilt not grudge to mingle tears with mine. Oh! it will cost me many a pang,


ween, To trace their infant Joves, each childish joy, When little Mary gambolid o'er the green

With her lov'd William, then a fair-hair’d boy. Fresh, like the rosy morn, his cherub face,

And, like the berry dark, his laughing eyes ; And Mary's too beam'd sweet with kindred grace,

The soft mild blue that paints the azure skies. Oft hand in hand they rambled o'er the plain,

And filld their little laps with store of flow’rs ; And oft pursu'd the gilded fly in vain

These were the pastimes of their earliest hours. But war's shrill clarion rous’d the youth to arms

To gain for Mary wealth and fair renown: Sighing he tore him from her blooming charms,

And left her weeping, joyless, and forlorn. Full oft retiring from the noisy throng,

To hide from vulgar eyes the struggling tear, He breath'd his constant vows in artless song,

And pour’d the trembling numbers on her ear. So the lone bird, within the


retir’d, Trills her sweet notes, the thorn within her breast :

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