Oft o'er the daify-fprinkled mead,
They wander'd far away,
Some lambkin to the fold to lead,
That haply chanc'd to ftray.
Her heart, where pity lov'd to dwell,
With fadness oft was wrung;
For the bruis'd infect as it fell,
Her foft tear trembling hung.
As roving o'er the flow'ry wafte,
A figh would heave her breaft
The while her gentle hand replac,d.
The linnet's falling neft.
Then would fhe feek the vernal bow'r,
And hafte with tender care.
To nurse fome pale declining flow'r,
Some op'ning bloffom rear.
And oft with eager steps the flies
To chear the lonely cot,
Where the poor widow pours her fighs.
And wails her hapless lot.
Their weeping mother's trembling knees
Her lifping infants clasp;
Their meek imploring look the fees,
She feels their tender grafp.
Wild throbs her aching bofom fwell,
They mark the bursting figh-
(Nature has form'd the foul to feel)
They weep unknowing why.-
Her hands the lib'ral boon impart,
And much her tear avails
To footh the mourner's bursting heart,
Where feeble utterance fails.
On the pale cheek where hung the tear
Of agonizing woe,
She bids the gush of joy rife there,
The tear of rapture flow.
If greater plenty to impart,
She e'ef would Heav'n implore, 'Twas only that her ample heart Still painted to do more.
Thus foft the gliding moments flew,
(Though love would court their ftay)
While fome new virtue rose to view.
And mark'd each fleeting day.
Peace, long condemned the world to roam,
Like the poor wand'ring dove,
Here foftly-refting found a home,
And wifh'd no more to rove.
The youthful poet's foothing dreami
Of youthful ages past,
The Mufes' fond ideal theme
Was realiz'd at laft.
"NTIMELY gone! for ever fled-
The rofes of the cheek fo red,
Th' affection warm, the temper mild,
The fweetnefs that in forrow fmil'd.
Alas! the cheek where beauty glow'd
The heart where goodness overflow'd
A clod amid the valley lies,
And" duft to duft" the mourner cries,
O from thy kindred early torn,
And to thy grave untimely borne!
Vanish'd for ever from my view,
Thou fifter of my foul adieu,
Fair with my first ideas twin'd,
Thine image oft will meet my mind;
And while rememberance brings thee near. Affection fad will drop a tear.
How oft does forrow bend the head,
Before we dwell among the dead;
Scarce in the years of manly prime,
I've often wept the wrecks of time.
What tragic tears bedew the eye,
What deaths we fuffer ere we die ;
Our broken friendship we deplore,
And love of youth that are no more.
No after-friendship e'er can raise
Th' endearments of our early days:
And ne'er the heart fuch fondness prove,
As when it first began to love.
Affection dies, a vernal flower;
And love, the bloffom of an hour;
The fpring of fancy cares controul,
And mar the beauty of the foul.
Vers'd in the commerce of deceit,
How foon the heart forgets to beat;
The blood runs cold at int'reft's call,
They look with equal eyes on all.
Ye Gods! whatever ye withod,
Let my affection ne'er grow old;
Ne'er may the human glow depart,
Nor nature yield to frigid art!
Still may the generous bofom burn,
Though doom'd to bleed o'er beauty's urn;
And ftill the, friendly face appear,
Though moisten'd with a tender tear!
N life's fair morn, I knew an aged feer,
Who fad and lonely pass'd his joyless year,
Betray'd, heart-broken, from the world he ran,
And fhunn'd, oh dire extreme, the face of man ;
Humbly he rear'd his hut within the wood,
Hermit his veft, a hermit's was his food.
Nitch'd in the corner of the gelid cave
Where chilling drops the rugged rock stone lave;
Hour after hour, the melancholy fage,
Drop after drop to reckon, would engage
The ling'ing day, and trinkling as they fell,
A tear went with them to the narrow well;
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