There, when life's weary pilgrimage is o'er,

All those who walk in virtue's heavenly way,

Shall bask in bliss, enjoying evermore

The cloudless sunshine of eternal day.

Exatic vision! source of rich delight!

Sweet antidote to ev'ry grief and pain!

Hope bids thee beam thus on the wretch's sight, To cool the fever of his burning brain.

The shrill-toned cock dispels his pleasing dream-
He 'wakes, his daily labour to renew;
Yet hope, tenacious of her fav'rite theme,

Oft bids his soul the blissful scene pursue.

Let storms of woe collect around his head,

And all the ills of life his mind invest ;

Imagination still by hope is led

To seek the mansions of eternal rest.

The seaman thus 'mid wild tornadoes tost,

Forgets a-while the "elemental fray ;"

For hope enchants him to his native coast,
And pictures many a future happy day.

Not such, I ween, the dreams of Mammon's trainTo them the dark abodes of death appear:

There gold is useless...earthly grandeur vainAppal'd they start! and wake convuls'd with fear!

Yes, oft when rev'lling in the arms of joy,'
When gladness seems supreme in ev'ry heart,
This sad reflection will their mirth destroy-
"From these enjoyments we must soon depart!"

Thrice happy PEASANT! tho' on life's rough sea Thou'rt doom'd to strive with many a bitter blast;

Yet virtue shall thy steady pilot be,

And guide thee to thy peaceful home at last.

ELIZA, AN ELEGY.

"Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,

"And send the hearers weeping to their beds."

SHAKESPEARE.

THE freezing north wind blew...and all the plain
Was buried under heaps of drifted snow;

Aloft in Heaven's blue arch the moon did reign,
And ting'd with yellow beams the world below.

When fair ELIZA, from a neighb'ring town,
Returning, sought the dear, paternal dome;

But fate forbade, with a malignant frown,
That she should ever taste the joys of home!

Poor hapless maid! what raptures fill'd her breast,
When she had nearly reach'd her native hill;
There, hope had promis'd she should safely rest,

Screen'd from the wintry blast and ev'ry ill.

1

But hope deceiv'd!...alas! her gentle frame

Could ill endure stern winter's piercing breath, Already half extinct her vital flame

Shivering, she felt the icy hand of death.

As poison steals, a deadly numbness crept,
And spread debility thro' ev'ry limb;
Her pulse no more its usual tenor kept,
Her spirit-beaming eye grew dark and dim.

And now, entangled in a wreath of snow,

A while she strives...but all her efforts fail, She sinks...and thus in accents sad and low, She pours her sorrows on the hollow gale:

'Tis past...the fleeting dream of life is fled Vain are my struggles...vain my plaintive cry;

Soon, soon shall I be number'd with the dead

Yet, oh! it is a "a dreadful thing to die!”

Perhaps my parents blame my long delay

Perhaps, despairing, they my fate presage ; To rankling grief they soon may fall a prey, Depriv'd of me, the comfort of their

age.

My COLIN, too, on love's light pinions borne,
Shall fly to press me to his ardent breast!·

How will his heart with agony be torn,

When he is told that in the

grave

I rest!

Adieu my earthly hopes!...my youthful joys!

The drowsy God asserts his leaden reign; Ah! world, farewell! farewell!"...She clos'd her eyes And slept...but never, never 'woke again!

The radiant morn arose...her corse was found-
But words would fail to paint her parents woe!
May he who gave the soul subduing wound
In mercy temper sorrow's poignant throe!