"Then, when honour boldly seeking,

"Mid the battle's wildest swell;

"Blood, and smoke, and sulphur reeking, "There my gallant father fell.

"What avails my hands I'm ringing? "What avail my orphan's tears?

"Every day some misery bringing,

"Fill my soul with orphan's fears.

"Unprotected, sad I wander,

"Have not where to lay my head;

"On my state forlorn I ponder,

"Or call upon the mighty dead.

"Fearless of surrounding danger,

"With no wish my life to save;

"Then, when I die, O gentle stranger,

"Lay me in my mother's grave!

Gentle maid, that wish forbearing,
Give thy mind a nobler bent;

Often when we're most despairing,
Has heaven a ready succour sent.

Dry thine eyes, and calm thy sorrow,
Yield thy breast to feelings mild;
Heaven may raise new friends to morrow

FOR THE RIGHTEOUS SOLDIER'S CHILD.

TO JULIA.

ANACREONTIC.

Published in the Evening Star April 10th, 1812.

LET us while youth and freedom last

Enjoy the passing day;

Forget the melancholy past,

And banish care away.

Let sparkling goblets shine;

And join with me to raise the song,

In praise of rosy wine.

The ready minstrels all attend,

Obedient to my call;

And every dulcet sweet shall blend,

To

grace the festive hall.

And bid the smiles and sports advance, To crown the laughing hours ;

To lead me through the mazy dance,

And join my hands with yours.

In joys like these we'll pass the day,

The night in soft repose;

Forgetting, in our frolic play,

The world, and all its woes.

SONG.

THE MINSTREL.

Published in the Gentleman's Magazine for March 1813.

GAY Lords and Knights, a dazzling throng,

Press near me to applaud my song;

They praise my shape, my ruby lip,

Where truant bees might honey sip:

Their amorous vows well pleased I hear,

For flattery is to woman dear;

But, if I needs must own the truth,

I'd rather hear the minstrel youth.

A soldier true, a sailor bold,

Lament to find my heart so cold;

I hear their vows, I see their pain,
They try to win my love in vain;
With eyes averted, ready ear,

I nothing loath, their raptures hear;
But if I needs must own the truth,
I'd rather hear the minstrel youth.

When radiant Sol displays his beams,
Then, light, disperse my airy dreams;
I haste, the thicket's maze to tread,
To pluck the wild flower from its bed:
With heart elate, by turns I rove

The breezy hill, the balmy grove;
And then at eve I own my truth,

And listen to the minstrel youth.