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BY THE SAME.
No more the morn with tepid rays
Unfolds the flower of various hue; Noon spreads no more the genial blaze,
Nor gentle eve distils the dew.
The lingering hours prolong the night,
L'surping darkness shares the day; Her mists restrain the force of light,
And Phæbus holds a doubtful sway.
By gloomy twilight half reveald,
With sighs we view the hoary hill, The leafless wood, the naked field,
The snow-topt cot, the frozen rill.
No music warbles through the grore,
No vivid colours paint the plain ; No more with devious steps I rore
Through rerdant paths now sought in vain.
Aload the driving tempest roars,
Congeald, impetuous showers descend; Haste, close the window, ber the doors
Fate leaves me Sceila and a friend.
In nature's aid let art supply
With light and heat our little sphere; Rouse, rouse the fire, and pile it high,
Light up a constellation here.
Let music sound the voice of joy!
Or mirth repeat the jocund tale; Let Love his wanton wiles employ, .
And o'er the season wine prevail.
Yet time life's dreary winter brings,
When mirth’s gay tale shall please no more; Nor music charm-though Stella sings;
Nor love, nor wine, the Spring restore.
Catch then, O! catch the transient hour,
Improve each moment as it flies; Life's a short Summer-man a flower,
He dies-alas! how soon le dics!
THE WINTER'S WALK.
BY THE SAME.
Benold, my fair, where'er we rove,
What dreary prospects round us rise; The vaked hill, the leafless grove,
The hoary ground, the frowning skies!
Nor only through the wasted plain,
Stern Winter! is thy force confess'd; Still wider spreads thy horrid reign,
I feel thy power usurp my breast.
Enlivening Hope and fond Desire
Resign the heart to Spleen and Care; Scarce frighted Love maintains her fice
And Rapture saddens to despair.
In groundless hope, and causeless fear,
Unhappy man! behold thy doom; Still changing with the changeful year,
The slave of sunshine and of gloom.
Tir'd with vain joys, and false alarms,
With mental and corporeal strife, Snatch me, my Stella, to thy arms,
And screen me from the ills of life.
ORATORIO OF ABEL.
How cheerful along the gay mead
The daisy and cowslip appear, The focks as they carelessly feed,
Rejoice in the spring of the year; The myrtles that shade the gay bow'rs,
The herbage that springs from the sod, Trees, plants, cooling fruits, and sweet flow'rs,
All rise to the praise of my God.
Shall man, the great master of all,
The only insensible prove?
Forbid it, Devotion and Love.
And still can destroy with a nod,
My soul shall be wrapt in my God!
THE MISER AND PLUTUS.
The wind was high, the window shakes,
Had the deep earth her stores confin'd, This heart had known sweet peace of mind. But virtue's sold. Good gods! what price Can recompense the pangs of vice! O bane of good ! seducing cheat! Can man, weak man, thy pow'r defeat? Gold banish'd honour from the mind, And only left the name behind; Gold sow'd the world with ev'ry ill; Gold taught the murd'rer's sword to kill: