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Methinks they whisper as they fly,
Juellen foon will meet thine eye
'Tis this that foothes her little fon,
Blends all his wishes into one!
Ah! were I clafp'd in her embrace,
I would forgive her past disgrace,
Forgive the memorable hour,
She fell a prey to tyrant pow'r;
Forgive her loft diftracted air,

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Her forrowing voice, her kneeling pray'r;
The fuppliant tears that gall'd her cheeks,
And laft-her agonizing fhrieks.

Lock'd in her hair, a ruthless hand
Trail'd her along the flinty ftrand;
A ruffian train, with clamours rude,
The impious fpectacle pursu❜d,
Still as the mov'd, in accents mild,
She cries aloud-" My child! my child!"
The lofty bark fhe now afcends,

With fcreams of woe the air fhe rends;
The veffel lefs'ning from the fhore,
Her piteous wails I heard no more:
Now, as I ftretch'd my last survey,
Her diftant form diffolv'd away.
That day is paft-I cease to mourn-
Succeeding joy fhall have its turn:
Befide the hoarfe refounding deep,
A pleafing anxious watch I keep;
For when the morning clouds fhall break,
And darts of day the darkness ftreak,
Perchance along the glitt'ring main,
(Oh! may this hope not throb in vain !)
To meet thefe long-defiring eyes,
Juellen and the fun may rife!

GLENOWEN.

BY MRS. ROBINSON.

FAREWELL, dear Glenowen! adieu to thy moun

Where oft I have wander'd to welcome the day;

Farewell to thy forefts, thy crystalline fountains,
Which ftray thro' the valley, and moan as they stray.
O'er wide foamy waters I'm deftin'd to travel,
A poor fimple exile, forlorn and unknown;
Yet, while the dark fates fhall my fortune unravel,
My thoughts, my affections, shall still be thy own.
Thy cities, proud Gallia, thy wide-spreading treasures,
Thy vallies, where nature luxuriantly roves,
May bid the heart, dancing to fancy's wild measures,
Forget, for a moment, its own native groves:
But where is the bofom that fighs not in forrow,
Eftrang'd from dear objects, to wander alone;
Still counting the moments, from morrow to morrow,
A poor weary traveller, loft and unknown?

Sweet viftas of myrtle, and paths of gay rofes,

And hills deck'd with vineyards, and woodlands with fhades,

Fresh banks of young vi'lets, where fancy repofes,
And courts gentle flumbers, her vifions to aid;
The dark filent grotto, the foft-flowing fountains,
Where Nature's own mufic flow murmurs along;
The fun-beams, that dance on the pine-cover'd mountains,
May waken to rapture their own native throng.

But thou, dear Glenowen! canft bring fweeter pleasure,
All barren and bleak as thy fummits appear:
And, though thou canft boast of no rich gaudy treasure,
Still Memory traces thy charms with a tear!
The keen blaft may howl o'er the vallies and mountains,
And ftrip the rich verdure that mantles each tree;
And winter may bind, in cold fetters, thy fountains,
But ftill thou art dear, O Glenowen! to me.

THE BRITISH

POETICAL MISCELLANY.

THE CAVE OF ALPHONSO.
ANONYMOUS.

THEN ev'ning's pale light had retir'd from the plain,
And night had the valley o'erfpread;
When the tears of the sky were distill'd in dark rain,
And the owls from the battlements feem'd to complain,
As the wind blew in gufts o'er their head;

A damfel, all frantic with grief and defpair,
Fled rapidly over the plain :

Her face, though the emblem of Sorrow, was fair;
Difhevell'd and torn were her ringlets of hair;
Her bofom was lab'ring with pain!

A fhriek of diftrefs was then borne on the wind,
More plaintive to hear than the found
Of a ring-dove, defcribing the pangs of its mind,
When no longer its mate in the woods it can find,
Or, finding, perceives a death wound!

It reach'd to the cave where Alphonso retir'd,
To feclude both his forrow and woes;
Where the lamp of affection had never expir'd,
Though religion and virtue together confpir'd
The anguish of grief to compofe.

-Yet love was ftill potent! and under a vest,
Which duty oblig'd him to wear,

He conceal'd the dear tyrant that sway'd o'er his breaft,
That robb'd him alike both of joy and of rest,

And made him the victim of care!

Sebaftian had happen'd, by chance, to behold
A maid, whom Alphonfo much priz'd:
He sought her, he woo'd her—at length he was told,
Her heart could be never attracted by gold,
And his love would be ever despis'd.

Enrag'd at a rival, he quickly retires,
The tumult to hide in his breast;
For envy and malice together confpire
To light up a flame, more terrific than fire
That burfts from a volcanic nest.

Sebaftian was lord of a boundless domain,
And part he refolv'd to beflow,

If the fire of Alphonfo defpotic would reign,
Compel him to wear both a cross and a chain,
And take a monaftical vow.

The bait was attractive-his heart was allur'd;
The peace of his fon was forgot:

Of his zeal the proud tyrant was firmly affur'de
Alphonfo was deftin'd of love to be cur'd,
Or fent to a far-distant spot.

The fire, with a mandate moft rigidly ftern,
Said, "Alphonfo, 'tis hence my decree,
"That thy bofom no longer with paffion must burn,
"But thy love be for ever entomb'd in an urn,
"And religion the object for thee."

Amazement at first check'd the use of his fpeech;
At length he exclaim'd-" Do I hear!

66

Refign my
Louifa!- -turn hermit !-
Relinquifh a joy when its juft in my reach!
"Ah! rather I'll ftretch on a bier!"

"Decide," faid the father, "decide
"Louifa's exiftence depends-

-and preach!

or delay

"For unless you declare that my will you obey,
"And folemnly fwear you agree to my way,
"Her love with her life jointly ends!”

"Oh, fpare her!" Alphonfo, in terror, then cries; "To what would you have me agree

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Then clafping his hands, and imploring the skies-
"Louifa!" faid he, "thou delight of my eyes-
"And muft I refign love and thee ?"

The palenefs of death o'er his features was spread:
Cold dew flood in drops on his cheek;
The roses from thence were entirely fled,
His lips were no longer enamell'd with red,
And his frame became fuddenly weak.

The moon had thrice circled around in her horn,
Ere Alphonfo recover'd his fenfe-

Ere he knew that his comforts were totally fhorn,
That his love from his arms had been forcibly torn,
And was many leagues diftant from thence.
The wealth that his fire had fo vilely attain❜d,
Corroded, like care, in his breaft:
Too late he lamented Sebaftian had gain'd
A purpose, by which his Alphonfo was pain'd,
And totally robb'd of his reft.

"My fon," faid the tyrant,

"alas! I repent,

"And gladly difpenfe with thy vow:

"But for fear that Sebaftian fhould know I repent, "And recall in the wealth, which in part I have spent, "An appearance of fanctity fhow.

"Thy garments must henceforth religious appear,

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Thy vestment some order difclofe,

"For if ever thy rival fhould happen to hear

"Thou ftill haft a right to reclaim thy loft dear,
"He'd poffibly add to thy woes."

"Alas!" faid Alphonfo, "the clothes that I wear
"Can only my perfon conceal;
"But give me a veil to confine my despair,
"To hide from myfelf the corrodings of care,
"And teach me no longer to feel!

"Or find me fome spot which my forrows may hide, "Where my griefs may in private repofe;

"Where my tears may augment the flow courfe of the

tide,

"As it filently murmurs my cavern befide,

"And feems to attend to my woes."

The fpot which Alphonfo fo ftrongly defir'd,
At length, was difclos'd to his view :--
'Twas a cave, where a hermit had once liv'd retir'd,
Where his life and his virtues together expir'd;

And the mofs round its arches thick grew.

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