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Ev'n now the pang, which parting friendship gave;
Thrills at my heart, and tells me he is gone.
Take then from me the penfive firain that flows
Congenial to this confecrated gloom;

Where all that meets my eye fome fymbol fhows
Of grief, like mine, that lives beyond the tomb.
Shows me that you, though doom'd the livelong year
For fcanty food the toiling arm to ply,

Can fmite your breafts, and find an inmate there
To heave, when mem'ry bids, the ready figh.
Still nurse that beft of inmates, gentle swains!
Still act as heartfelt fympathy infpires;
The tafte, which birth from education gains,
Serves but to chill affection's native fires.
To you more knowledge than what fhields from vice
Were but a gift would multiply your cares;
Of matter and of mind let reafoners nice

Difpute; be patience yours, prefumption theirs.
You know (what more can earthly science know?)
That all muft die; by revelation's ray
Illum'd, you truft the ashes placed below
Thefe flow'ry tufts, fhall rife again to day.
What if you deem, by hoar tradition led,
To you perchance devolv'd from Druids old,
That parted fouls at folemn seasons tread

The circles that their shrines of clay enfold? What if you deem they fome fad pleasure take Thefe poor memorials of your love to view, And scent the perfume for the planter's fake,

That breathes from vulgar rosemary and rue? Unfeeling Wit may fcorn, and Pride may frown; Yet Fancy, emprefs of the realms of fong, Shall blefs the decent mode, and Reason own It may be right—for who can prove it wrong?

LINES addreffed to a FOUNTAIN.

[From LYRIC POEMS.]

EQUESTER'D Fountain! ever pure,
Whofe placid ftreamlet flows,

In filent lapfe, through glens obfcure,
Where timid flocks repofe :
Tired and disabled in the race,
I quit ambition's fruitless chace,
To shape my course by thine;
And, pleas'd, from ferious trifles turn,
As thus, around thy little urn,
A votive wreath 1 twine.

Fair Fountain! on thy margin green,
May tufted trees arise,

And spreading boughs thy bofom fkreen
From fummer's fervent skies ;-
Here may the fpring her flow'rets ftrew,
And morning fhed her pearly dew,
May health infuse her balm;
And fome foft virtue in thee flow,
To mitigate the pangs of woe,
And bid the heart be calm.

O may thy falutary ftreams,
Like thofe of Lethe's fpring,
That bathe the filent land of dreams,
Some drops oblivious bring-
With that bleft opiate in my bowl,
Far fhall I from my wounded foul
The thorns of fpleen remove-
Forget how there at firft they grew,
And, once again, with man renew
The cordial ties of love.

For what avails the wretch to bear
Imprinted on his mind,
The leffons of distrust and fear,
Injurious to mankind?
Hopeless in his difaftrous hour,
He fees the gath'ring tempeft lower,

The burfting cloud impend

Tow'rds the wild waste he turns his eye,
Nor can that happy port defcry,
The bofom of a friend.

How chang'd fince that propitious time,
When woo'd by fortune's gale,
Fearless in youth's advent'rous prime,
He crowded ev'ry fail! -
The fwelling tide, the sportive breeze,
Lightly along the halcyon feas

His bounding pinnace bore-
In fearch of happiness, the while,
He fteer'd by ev'ry fragrant ifle,
And touch'd at ev'ry thore.

Ah me! to Youth's ingenuous eye
What charms the profpect wears!
Bright as the portals of the fky
The op'ning world appears;

There

There every figure ftands confeft,
In all the fweet advantage dreft
Of Candour's radiant robe-
There no mean cares admiffion find,
Love is the bufinefs of mankind,
And Honour rules the globe.

But if those gleams fallacious prove
That paint the world so fair;
If heav'n has plac'd for gen'rous love
No foft afylum there;

If men fair faith, fair fame deride,
Bent on the crooked paths that guide
To Int'reft's fordid thrine;
Be yours, ye gloomy fons of Woe!
That melancholy truth to know,
The dream of blifs be mine.

8CENERY by MOONLIGHT, MELNA and the GHOST of HIDALLAN.

[From the VALES of WEVER, a loco-defcriptive Posм, by J. Gis BORNE, ESQ.]

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1797.

Wove a black canopy of cloud,

And round her flung his fable shroud :
No stars arofe with changeful blaze,
To cheer her path's bewilder'd maze;

No moon-beams glimmering through the trees
Trembled obedient to the breeze.

A while the weeping beauty ftood

(Cold tremors courfing through her blood),
Then fereaming rufh'd, with furious tread,
Along the mantions of the dead;

Where at this hour o'er mouldering graves
His beard of fnow the thiftle waves.
At length more calm, with looks refign'd,
She check'd the tumult of her mind,
Rais'd her white arms, implor'd the moon
To fhed on night her placid noon,
Then funk in agony of prayer,
Pale kneeling monument of care!

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Saw the grim night diffufe around
A blacker palk úpon the ground:
"Alas! my fruitless prayer" fhe cried,
Sunk on the dew-cold mofs, and figh'd.
O'er her fine form difaftrous Sleep
'Wav'd his wand wet from Lethe's deep,
Dire dreams convuls'd her labouring mind,
And phantoms ftarted from behind:
When, lo! through opening clouds the moon
Shed o'er the vales her lucid noon,
Silver'd the fable cheeks of night,
And horror fmil'd at holy light.
Inftant awaken'd by the glare
Of glory foft diffus'd through air,

She wonder'd much, with whom, and how,

Her fteps e'er fought these wilds below,
What spirit of the midnight hour

Dragg'd her from Cona's rock-roof'd bower;

When all at once remembrance dread

Impetuous feiz'd her fhudd'ring head.

"Who comes ?" the fhriek'd," who haunts this vale?

"His looks! his robes of mift! how pale!

""Tis he, 'tis he! my life! my love!

"Ye gods who hear me from above,
""Tis my Hidallan! -heavens! he flies,
"Drinks with unfeeling ear my cries."
Thrice with impaffion'd grief the prayed,
And thrice fhe clafp'd the fleeting fhade;
But when she saw his buoyant feet
Through ether's argent realms retreat,
Saw ftars dim twinkle in his vest,

And moonshine glimmer through his breaft,
Then with mad foot fhe fmote the ground,
Then started at the bursting found;
Wrung with wild hands her fhadowy hair,
And ftar'd, and laugh'd with fierce defpair;
Thrill'd with delirious fhouts the grove,
As frenzy fann'd the flames of love.

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