CANZONET. LADY! when, with glad surprise, I meet thy soft and shaded Swear earth is heaven--if thou art near! But when (the hour of transport o'er) Confessing, with a silent tear, That heaven and hell are wondrous near! Lord Strangford. Can I return the obligation; Alas! will my poetic pen Do justice to my inclination? 'Tis surely much the shortest way, your present." But as the ladies now-a-days, O condescend, ye muses! pray, Delightful theme! O beauteous purse! Shall my untutor❜d pen profane Or give you half the praise you merit ? Ah no! I yield the task of praise To those who better can explain it ; A single stanza shall contain it. So neat, so charming a design, Was ne'er with such success attempted'; : O! may I never see it emptied ! The Meteors. HYMN FOR THE SONS OF THE CLERGY. How blest those olive plants that grow Where streams of fresh instruction flow, 'Twas thus the swallow rear'd her young, Of whom the royal prophet sung, When, like the swallow's tender brood, Where'er they roam, where'er they rest, Still may the streams of grace divine Glide softly near their devious way; And faith's fair light serenely shine, To change their darkness into day. Still may they, with paternal love, Each other's shield and aid become; And while thro' distant realms they rove, Remember still their childhood's home; The simple life, the frugal fare, The kind paternal counsels giv'n, The tender love, the pious care, That early wing'd their hopes to heav'n. And when the ev'ning shades decline, May they each earthly wish resign, And holier, happier climes explore. And when the faithful shepherds view Mrs. Grant. CANZONET. SINCE in this dreary vale of tears No-let the young and ardent mind A source of purer pleasure. Better to live despis'd and poor, The wound of earthly woes. Vain world! did we but rightly feel To death and sweet repose. Lord Strangford. |