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Past are those hours of unembitter'd mirth,

When pleasure hasten'd at the close of day,
To where the circle round the wintry hearth

Met cheerfully to talk dull time away.
Alas! I thought not then so soon to part,
Pleasure had fill'd too full my dreaming heart.

And dare I prize thee, when another's fame

In me repos'd reproaches every glance ! And dare I prize thee, when the secret flame

That preys upon my reason, may perchance Blaze into madness ? sure we ought to part ! Thou feedest the fierce fire that wastes my heart.

Yet when old age shall blunt the sting of care,

When stoic wisdom shall have steel'd my breast, When cold indifference shall annul despair,

And mellow sorrow to reflective rest,
Yet even in death we will not know to part,
For in the grave I'll wear thee next my heart.

1794.

H. W. , Tbe TEMPEST.

The Tempest has darken'd the face of the skies,

The winds whistle wildly across the waste plain, The Fiends of the whirlwind terrific arise,

And mingle the clouds with the white-foaming main.

All dark is the night and all gloomy the shore,

Save when the red lightnings the ether divide, Then follows the thunder with loud sounding roar

And echoes in concert the billowy tide.

But tho' now all is murky and shaded with gloom,

Hope the soother soft whispers the tempests shall cease; Then Nature again in her beauty shall bloom,

And enamoured embrace the fair sweet-smiling Peace.

For the bright-blushing morning all rosy with light

Shall convey on her wings the Creator of Day, He shall drive all the tempests and terrors of night,

And Nature enlivened again shall be gay.

Then the warblers of Spring shall attune the soft lay,

And again the bright flowret shall blush in the dale ; On the breast of the ocean the Zephyr shall play,

And the sun-beam shall sleep on the hill and the dale.

If the tempests of Nature so soon sink to rest,

If her once faded beauties so soon glow again, Shall Man be for ever by tempests oppress'd,

By the tempests of passion, of sorrow, and pain?

Ah no! for his passions and sorrows shall cease,

When the troublesome fever of life shall be o'er ; In the night of the grave he shall slumber in peace,

And passion and sorrow shall vex him no more.

And shall not this night and its long dismal gloom,

Like the night of the tempest again pass away; Yes! the dust of the earth in bright beauty shall bloom,

And rise to the morning of heavenly day!

D. 1796.

INSCRIPTION

Under an OAK.

Here Traveller ! pause awhile. This ancient Oak
Will parasol thee if the sun ride high,
Or should the sudden shower be falling fast,
Here may'st thou rest umbrella’d. All around
Is good and lovely : hard by yonder wall
The kennel stands; the horse-flesh hanging near
Perchance with scent unsavoury may offend
Thy delicate nostrils, but remember thou
How sweet a perfume to the hound it yields,
And sure its useful odours will regale
More gratefully thy philosophic nose,
Than what the unprofitable violet
Wastes on the wandering wind. Nor wilt thou want
Such music as benevolence will love,
For from these fruitful boughs the acorns fall
Abundant, and the swine that grub around,

Shaking with restless pleasure their brief tails
That like the tendrils of the vine curl up,
Will grunt their greedy joy. Dost thou not love
The sounds that speak enjoyment ? oh if not,
If thou would'st rather with inhuman ear
Hark to the warblings of some wretched bird
Bereft of freedom, sure thine heart is dead
To each good feeling, and thy spirit void
Of all that softens or ennobles man.

THEODERIT

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