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Mirth! oh stay thee, and awhile
Earth and air, the fea, the skies,
Mine too be each softened pleasure,
Thou, Thalia, canst impart;
Gaiety, that mends the heart !
Wit, that jeers eccentric folly,
In tranfient, pleasing melancholy-
On some loved scene her pencil silent plies; Nor hears the busy world that murmurs round,
Or smiles to hear, and liftons to defpife ; And starting now, with look impatient calls,
And bids her beaming car the lightnings bear, Far, far beyond the realms where sunbeam falls,
Or comets on the darkness pour their glare; And there her mysteries to her favourites thews,
Sketching bright visions on the deepened gloom; Or weaves dark dreams, while as the texture grows,
Surprise broods raptured o'er the awful loom.
And me too, if on me she deign to smile,
Let mufing science thew her inmost bowers, And all her lore unfold – unheard the while
On gliding wing thall move the filent hours,
Ah! bleft the man, for whom with patient care,
She culls unfading flowers of calm delight, And leads him wondering o'er the earth and air,
The boundless ocean, and the realms of lightHigh raised from vulgar eyes to happier spheres,
He breathes an air more balmy and serene : The while, at distance, echoed faint he hears
The murmuring waves of life's tumultuous scene.
My foul or yielding, I diffuse
The still and fleeping landscape o'er; Then memory oft with thee I muse,
On days that must return no more.
When winter chills the darkened air,
And embers faint the earth illume, Lonely I watch their mimic glare,
People with forms the twilight gloom; As fancy points, my course I chuse;
Calm realins of thought I wander o'er; Then Memory! oft with thee I mase,
On days that must return no more.
When faft the lowering evenings close,
And parting autumn's stormy train, Wake fullen winter repose,
And bend the woods, and sweep the main ; Tbee, Memory, then I turn to woo,
I figh expiring nature o'er, And pensively with thee I view
Lov'd hours, that muft return no more
Sweet is the call of whispering (pring
I hear, and range the lawns and groves, And mark how life unfolds bis wing,
And o’er earth, air, and ocean roves. * And thus," I cry, " did hope diffuse
“ Once her soft light my bolom o'er,'' Then Memory, fad, with thee I mufe,
On joys that inult return no more. Trie- to me has bounteous heaven,
Now a kinder fate beftowed, And with lavith hand has given
Bliss to me it never owed.
Still tho' bright the day be shining,
Clouds that in the morn were seen, Not, as yet, the sky resigning,
Oft floating pass the blue ferene.
He too, who, in boundless measure,
Blessings may from fortune gain,
Feeling for another's pain :
The heart to cheer, Affection warm exten
Her beauteous web around with fingers fine,
But ah! when Fate or Chance the texture rends,
She finds with fighs, “ the liv'd along the line."
The fondest look that e'er pourtrayed the mind,
The richeft bliss that sympathy e'er gave, Foll dearly purchas'd, will the mourner find,
Who tends the bed of pain, or decks the grave, From ills like these, from sorrows of her own,
E’en virtues self no kind repofe can know; Too oft with contest faint and cheerless grown,
She hopes not reft or happiness below;
Fixed on those realms, where no wild paffion fires,
Where no keen sorrow in the heart delays, No fiekening want to solitude retire
Nor pain on the shrunk frame resistless preys —
But whither have my thoughts unbidden stray'd,
Where fled the dreams that did my senses fold, Ah mirth, while scarce my vows to thee were paid,
Is the gleam o'er, and is my heart grown cold?
Enchantress fair! to gain one happy hour
Like me, if e'er another suppliant bend, Unceasing let thy wand its influence pour,
For if thy votary think thy visions end.
One for his MAJESTY's Birtu-DAY,
By Henry James' Pye, Esa. Poet-LAUREAT,
yield to gentler powers the plain,
Lo! Britain greets the milder charms
Of Cytherea's reign.
Floats on the soft ambrosial gale;
Th' auspicious nupuals hail!