"A thousand funs have roll'd, fince light
"Rufh'd on their folid night-

"See, o'er that tender frame grim famine hangs,
"And mocks a mother's pangs!

"The last, last drop which warm'd her veins "That meagre infant drains

"Then gnaws her fond fuftaining breast"Stretch'd on her feeble knees, behold "Another victim finks to lafting rest"Another, yet her matron arms would fold "Who strives to reach her matron arms in vain "Too weak her wafted form to raise, "On him the bends her eager gaze; "She fees the foft imploring eye "That afks her dear embrace, the cure of pain"She fees her child at diftance die"But now her fteadfast heart can bear "Unmov'd, the preffure of defpair"When firft the winds of winter urge their courfe "O'er the pure fream, whofe current fmoothly glides, "The heaving river fwells its troubled tides; "But when the bitter blaft with keener force, "O'er the high wave an icy fetter throws, "The harden'd wave is fix'd in dead repofe.' "Say who that hoary form? alone he stands, "And meckly lifts his wither'd hands

"His white beard ftreams with blood"I fee him with a fmile, deride

"The wounds that pierce his fhrivel'd fide,
"Whence flows a purple flood-
"But fudden pangs his bofom tear-
"On one big drop of deeper dye,
"I fee him fix his haggard eye

"In dark, and wild defpair!

"That fanguine drop which wakes his woe

"Say, fpirit! whence its fource.".

"Afk no more its fource to know

Ne'er fhall mortal eye explore

"Whence flow'd that drop of human gore,
"Till the starting dead fhall rife,

"Unchain'd from earth, and mount the skies,

"And time fhall end his fated courfe."—

"Now th' unfathom'd depth behold--

"Look but once! a fecond glance

"Wraps a heart of human mold

"In death's eternal trance."

"That fhapeless phantom finking flow

"Deep down the vaft aby is below,

"Darts, thro' the mifts that flroud his frame,

"A horror, nature hates to name!"-

"Mortal,

"Mortal, could thine eyes behold
"All thofe fullen mifts enfold,
"Thy finews at the fight accurft

"Would wither, and thy heart-ftrings burst;
"Death would grafp with icy hand
"And drag thee to our grizly band-
"Away! the fable pall I fpread,
"And give to reft th' unquiet dead-
"Hafte! ere its horrid fhroud enclofe

"Thy form, benumb'd with wild affright,
"And plunge thee far thro' waftes of night,
"In yon black gulph's abhorr'd repose !”.
As ftarting at each step I fly,

Why backward turns my

frantic eye,

That clofing portal paft?

Two fullen fhades half-feen advance! -
On me, a blasting look they caft,

And fix my view with dang 'rous fpells,
Where burning phrenzy dwells!-

Again their vengeful look-and now a speechless

Part of an ODE to SUPERSTITION, published with fome other POEMS.

N yon' hoar fummit, mildly bright

Ο 3

With purple ether's liquid light,

High o'er the world, the white rob❜d Magi gaze

On dazzling bursts of heavenly fire,

And wildly start at each blue blaze,

Each flame that flits with adverfe fpire.
But fay what founds my ear invade ?
From Delphi's venerable fhade?
The temple rocks, the laurel waves!
"The God! the God!" the Sybil cries.
Her figure fwells! the foams, the raves!
Her figure fwells to more than mortal fize!
Streams of rapture roll along,
Silver notes afcend the fkies.
Wake, Echo, wake and catch the fong,
Oh, catch it, e'er it dies.

The Sybil fpeaks, the dream is o'er,
The holy harpings charm no more.
In vain the checks the God's controul,
His madding fpirit fills her frate,
And moulds the features of her foul,
Breathing a prophetic flame.

i

The cavern frowns! its hundred mouths unclose,
And, in the thunder's voice, the fate of empire flows.
Mona, thy Druid rites awake the dead!

Rites thy brown oaks would never dare

E'en whifper to the idle air;

Rites that have chain'd old Ocean on his bed.
Shiver'd by thy piercing glance,

Pointless falls the hero's lance.

Thy magic bids th' imperial eagle fly,
And mars the laureate wreath of victory.
Hark, the bard's foul infpires the vocal firing!
At ev'ry paufe dread Silence hovers o'er :
While murky night fails round on raven wing,
Deepening the tempeft's howl, the torrent's roar;
Chas'd by the morn from Snowdon's awful brow,
Where late the fat and cowl'd on the black waye below,
Lo, fteel-clad War his gorgeous ftandard rears!
The red-crofs fquadrons madly rage,

And mow thro' intancy and age;

Then kifs the facred duft and melt in tears,
Veiling from the eye of day,

Penance dreams her life away;

In cloy fler'd folitude the fits and fighs,

While from each fhrine ftill fmall refponfes rise.
Hear with what heart-felt beat, the midnight bell
Swings its flow fummons thro' the hollow pile!
The weak wan votarist leaves her twilight cell,
To woo with taper dim, the winding ifle;
With choral chantings vainly to afpire

Beyond this nether fphere, on rapture's wing of fire.

A few

We have been favoured, by the AUTHOR, with the following elegant
Tribute to the Memory of the late Lady JERNINGHAM.
Copies of it, only, have been printed, at the Solicitation of feveral
of her Friends.

LINES written in the ALBUM,

At CoSSEY HALL, NORFOLK, by Mr. JERNINGHAM.

HOU, to whofe facred page the parting guest
Confides the workings of his grateful breast,

With awful pleafure o'er thy form I bend
My gift to bring-as brother, gueft, and friend.
Farewell, ye fhades! (ah! not to fame unknown)
Where Elegance has rear'd her Attic throne:
Whose beauties, to the pure of taste addrefs'd,
In Nature's charms munificently drefs'd;
Whofe foft amenity, with grace combin'd,
Display the emblem of the mailer's mind;

Farewell

Farewell!-Say, fhall I not regret the bow'r
Where focial intercourfe endear'd the hour;
Where fhe, whofe footsteps blefs this fylvan feat,
The pride and mistress of this calm retreat,
Her foul illum'd with Wifdom's piercing beam,
Sheds o'er the converfe her enlight'ning gleam?
By native Tafte, that fure directrefs, led,
She flores her talents at the fountain-head.
So the bright fun-flow'r, on the cultur'd plain,
Afpires impatient o'er her fifter train,
Unfolds her bofom at the dawn of day
To catch the radiance of the fular ray.

Ye fcenes o'er which I cast a lingʼring view,
O'er which affection breathes a warm adieu,
That hour I now recall with pleafing pain,
Which gave your beauties to my with again:
Yet then, as I approach'd your fmiling fhore,
Prompt expectation gladly flew before:
Wing'd with gay hope, as nearer ftill I drew,
Hills, plains, and woods affum'd a brighter hue:
Soft-wreath'd in lilac vestment, laughing May
With hailing afpect met me on the way:
The various vale with eager fteps I prefs'd,
Praise on my tongue, and tranfport in my breast:
O'er each lov'd fpot I fent a fond furvey,
Where in the morn of life I wont to stray;
The winding walks by memory endear'd,

Where with the growing plants my youth was rear'd,
Embow'ring fhades, in whole deep gloom immers'd,
Reflection fed me, and the Muses nurs❜d,
And, fereening from my view ambition's fky,
Pour'd other vifions on my raptur'd eye.

Yet, Album, ere the willing task I leave,

Warm from the heart these cloting lines receive,
"Twas at the hour to contemplation due,
When evening meekly from the world withdrew,
Beneath an aged oak, in penfive mood,

I Sorrow's folitary captive ftood;

When, from the rifted trunk's obfcure recefs,

A voice breath'd forth in accents of distress;

"Where! where is fhe! of mild and rev'rend mien,

"Once the lov'd mittrefs of this fylvan fcene?"—

Fall'n-fall'n-fall'n-fall'n"-a diftant voice replied:

The branches fhook, as if to fense allied;

Wild Terror flung his strong enchantment round,
And evening hurried into night profound!

Now fond remembrance turns a willing fight,
To dwell on gayer scenes of past delight,
Pleas'd to behold her, midft the polifh'd train,
With grace, with dignity, her part sustain.

To

To mild feftivity by nature prone,
With inbred wit peculiarly her own,
Prompt ev'ry fportive incident to seize,
Diffuling pleasure with a carelefs eafe;
Of pow'r to charm invincibly poffefs'd,
Unfelt the glided into every breast.

There are, who, fram'd with an enlighten'd taste,
High on the critic form by judgment plac'd,
Who (marking well her fenfe with ftrength combin'd,
The fcintillations of her playful mind,

An aptitude that never loft its aim)

With brilliant Sevigné inwreathe her name.

To difcontent, the vice of age, unknown,
Her chearfulness maintain'd its envied throne:
The gay, the old, the learned, and the young,
And they whofe heart pure elegance had ftrung,
By the foft pow'r of her enchantment won,
Would oft the glare of throng'd affemblies fhun,
To court her ready wit's enliv'ning beam,
And bafk beneath its undulating gleam.

Yet oft from these unnotic'd would she steal,
To foothe the bed-rid ftretch'd on Torture's wheel,
To smooth the furrow on Misfortune's brow,
To warm the timid and exak the low,
With lenient hand administer relief,
And close the bleeding artery of grief.

Ah, ever dear! ah, venerable fhade!
Indulge this honour by Affection paid.
Enthron'd in blifs, ah! yet forbear to fhun
This holy tribute from a zealous fon.
'Twas mine, attendant on thy evening ray,
To watch the fun-fet of thy blameless day;
To fee thee, weary of th' unequal ftrife,
Shed the faint glimm'rings of exhaufted life,
And (heavenly moralift, fublimely great!)
At the dread opening of thy future itate,
Teach by example, to thy latest breath,
Meeknefs in pain, and fortitude in death.

INVOCATION to RETIREMENT.

[From a poetic EPISTLE to a CURATE, by JOSIAH THOMAS, A. B.] ETIREMENT, hail!-thy hofpitable shade,

By blundering Pride injuriously pourtray'd,

Demands my verfe-could gratitude infpire
The fage's wifdom, or the poet's fire,

How would the Mufe th' immortal theme prolong,
And blefs thy fond encomiaft and the fong!

Retirement,