THERE lurks within thy lyre a dang'rous spell, That lures my soul from Wisdom's dauntless aim; Yet, if I know thy gen'rous bosom well,
Thou wouldst not dash me from the stceps of Fame.
Trust me, thy melting plaint's melodious flow,
Would animate to love the icy grave:
And yet, if thy pure feelings well I know,
Thou would'st not sink me to an am'rous slave.
Grac'd with no ornaments of birth, or wealth,
That to the minions of Success belong,
Ev'n at the price of my sole treasure, health,
I own that I would be renown'd for song!
For this, by the pale taper's trembling ray,
My paler front presents a studious shade;
In whose dim eye, Mirth's sprightly sparks decay;
On whose brown cheek Youth's vernal blushes fade;
For this, I wander from the world aside,
Mutt'ring wild descants to the toiling deep,
'Mid the lone forest's leafy refuge hide,
And slight the blessings of inactive sleep.
Serene, while tempesting the sparkling brine,
The furious winds from ev'ry quarter roar,
Led by Philosophy's unclouded shine,
I seek Hope's watch-tow'r on a distant shore.
Nor measur'd dance, nor gay theatric scene,
Nor woman's smile, my sterner sense invite ;
Though Beauty too, at times, will steal between,
And my heart vibrate with no mean delight;
Soft-smiling o'er the dreary wreck of Time,
When my Anthemce's semblance I behold,
Fix'd by the Muse's magic pow'r, sublime,
Her eye's blue languish, and her locks of gold!
Then, then, with my creative fancy fir'd,
Pygmalion-like, I fold the idol-form,
By ages yet unborn to be admir'd,
Beyond the sweep of Desolation's storm!
Feel'st thou not too, the elevated thought?
Those lesser stars whose transient lights adorn
Their twinkling spheres, ah! where shall they be sought,
When bursts the brightness of thy future morn?
Then freely scatter from thy balmy breast
What Feeling may receive, or Friendship give;
And, (spare a vaunt which would befit thee best,)
That thou may'st be immortal, let me live.
WELL, after all our quarrels, strifes, and squabble,
And though full oft I've curs'd thy tuneful gabble,
I cannot say, sweet slut, I quite abhor ye—
Methinks I have a sneaking kindness for ye.
Nor can I quite forget the bliss-wing'd hours
We spent of yore, collecting wild hedge-flow'rs
Of varied light and shade, what time the dawn}
Fair child, in purple vapours swath'd, appear'd,
The sullen face of ancient Darkness cheer'd,
And flung his short beams o'er the glimm'ring lawn,
Till father Sol unclos'd his radiant eye,
Took Thetis' parting kiss, and scal'd the sky,
Then peeping through thick mists, dispers'd all sor.
And bade his early bard, the lark, good-morrow.
Yes, you were youthful then, and gay, and airy,
Light as an Oread, a beauteous fairy,
Leading me mad o'er park-gate, hedge, and ditches,
Nor car'd three farthings tho' I tore my breeches !
Oft would the plum'd choir, twitt'ring from the shade,
Prate to lone Echo, in her winding shell,
Their loves and fears, and sportive pastimes tell,
Swelling the slender pipe till thou hast sung,
And all in breathless silence charmed hung.
Ev'n Zephyr furl'd his filmy plume with care,
Floating before, in rude and reckless flight,
Now on the soft breast of his gentle air
Fix'd pendulous, and still as musing night.
Charms you once had, and these most rapturous too
Ere envious Woe, and sour Misfortune scowl'd;
Ere the loud blast of dismal Horror howl'd
Round my sad front, nor could unripen'd age,
And guiltless song, the felon fiends assuage.
Now metamorphos'd to a scolding shrew,
All thy lov'd beauties lose their former force, And much am I advis'd to suc
For a poetical divorce;
But, hang it, 'tis too late to shut the stable, We must even drudge as well as we are able.
Donec eris felix multos numerabis amicos. OVID.
IN sonnet trim, and ditty quaint,
I've often read the trite complaint,
That truth, search all the nation round,
Untainted truth, will scarce be found;
Yet trust me, which I wot you will,
I know a shyer stranger still.
Let Bow-street send her myriads forth,
From east to west, from south to north;
"Cry havoc!" and, inspiring awe,
Let slip the hungry dogs of law;
Direct, at once, on diff'rent journeys,
Bums, setters, runners, spies, attorneys;
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