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He heard the widow's heaven-breathed prayer
of praise, He marked the sheltered orphan's tearful gaze, Or where the sorrow-shrivelled captive lay, Poured the bright blaze of Freedom's noon-tide
ray. Beneath this roof if thy cheered moments pass, Fill to the good man's name one grateful glass : To higher zest shall Memory wake thy soul, And Virtue mingle in the ennobled bowl. But if, like me, through life's distressful scene Lonely and sad thy pilgrimage hath been ; And if thy breast with heart-sick anguish fraught, Thou journeyest onward tempest-tossed in thought; Here cheat thy cares ! in generous visions melt, And dream of Goodness, thou hast never felt !
OARSE Mævius reads his hobbling verse
To all, and at all times ;
His voice, as well as rhymes.
Yet folks say—“ Mævius is no ass;
But Mævius makes it clear, That he's a monster of an ass
An ass without an ear.
TO A BEAUTIFUL SPRING IN A VILLAGE.
NCE more, sweet Stream! with slow foot wan
dering near, I bless thy milky waters cold and clear. Escaped the flashing of the noontide hours, With one fresh garland of Pierian flowers, (Ere from thy zephyr-haunted brink I turn,) My languid hand shall wreathe thy mossy urn. For not through pathless grove with murmur rude Thou soothest the sad wood-nymph, Solitude; Nor thine unseen in cavern depths to well, The hermit-fountain of some dripping cell! Pride of the Vale! thy useful streams supply The scattered cots and peaceful hamlet nigh. The elfin tribe around thy friendly banks With infant uproar and soul-soothing pranks, Released from school, their little hearts at rest, Launch paper navies on thy waveless breast. The rustic here at eve with pensive look Whistling lorn ditties leans upon his crook, Or starting pauses with hope-mingled dread To list the much-loved maid's accustomed tread: She, vainly mindful of her dame's comm
mand, Loiters, the long-filled pitcher in her hand.
Unboastful Stream ! thy fount with pebbled falls
Life's current then ran sparkling to the noon,
I And inly groan for Heaven's poor outcast'Tis tempest all or gloom : in early youth [Man! If gifted with the Ithuriel lance of Truth We force to start amid her feigned caress Vice, siren-hag ! in native ugliness; A Brother's fate will haply rouse the tear, And on we go in heaviness and fear! But if our fond hearts call to Pleasure's bower Some pigmy Folly in a careless hour, [ground The faithless guest shall stamp the enchanted And mingled forms of Misery rise around : Heart-fretting Fear, with pallid look aghast, That courts the future woe to hide the past ; Remorse, the poisoned arrow in his side, And loud lewd Mirth, to Anguish close allied : Till Frenzy, fierce-eyed child of moping pain, Darts her hot lightning-flash athwart the brain. Rest, injured shade! Shall Slander squatting near Spit her cold venom in a dead Man's ear? 'Twas thine to feel the sympathetic glow In Merit’s joy, and Poverty's meek woe; Thine all, that cheer the moment as it flies, The zoneless Cares, and smiling Courtesies.
Nursed in thy heart the firmer Virtues grew,
weep, yet stoop not! the faint anguish flows, A dreamy pang in Morning's feverous doze.
Is this piled earth our Being's passless mound?
TO A YOUNG LADY,
WITH A POEM ON THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
UCH on my early youth I love to dwell,
I bade that friendly dome farewell,
eye, And suffering Nature wept that one should die!
Thus to sad sympathies I soothed my breast,
1 Lee Boo, the son of Abba Thule, Prince of the Pelew Islands, came over to England with Captain Wilson, died of the small-pox, and is buried in Greenwich church-yard, See Keate's Account.