Sweet month! thy enlivenin' reign,

To the years o' my youth I

compare,

When, brisk in the sports o' the plain,

I kend neither sorrow nor care.

My simmer was clouded wi' strife,

Now sour-looking autumn is near

Then winter, the e'enin' o' life,

Shall finish my mortal career!

The spring yet will smilin' return,

An' scatter fresh flow'rs owre the plain;

But pleasures that sweeten't life's morn,

We ne'er can experience again!

MAY.

INSCRIBED TO

"No birds sweetly singing,

"Nor flowers gaily springing,

"Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair."

THE op'ning buds, and blossoms gay,
Proclaim the birth of rosy May-
The bounding lambs delighted play,

And birds pour forth their melody.

How sweet at morn the sylvan glade,
Where flow'rs expand beneath the shade;

And lovely spring walks forth array'd

In all her fairest drapery!

The glorious sun ascends on high,

O'er all diffusing light, and joy

With rapture ev'ry human eye

Surveys great nature's scenery.

BURNS.

No tempests with resistless sweep, In dire commotion heave the deep; The jarring winds are lull'd asleep, And all is peace and harmony.

But never can the joys of spring, Extract affliction's poison'd sting; Nor all her sweets an opiate bring To soothe the child of misery.

No! never can the child of woe

Feel nature's joy-inspiring glow;

Nor smiling spring a charm bestow

To blunt the edge of poverty.

Ah no! the heart by anguish torn,,

Recurs to life's delightful morn,

The days that never will return,:.

When all was mirth and gaiety.

The pining wretch by want opprest,
Sees earth in all her glory drest,

And sighs, "this season made me blest
Ere first I knew adversity."

But thou whose heart is pity's throne,
Who mak'st another's woes thy own,

To still pale sorrow's secret groan
Extend'st the hand of charity.

To heal the wounds of woe is thine,
To cheer those hearts that inly pine,
And bid the wretch his griefs resign,
Fair daughter of humanity!

Poor genius feels thy fost'ring care;

And offers up a fervent pray'r,

That Heav'n's best blessings thou may'st share

In time, and through eternity!

LINES

ADDRESSED TO MY FRIEND MR. G-D

NARROW ESCAPE FROM DEATH.

"May he live

ON HIS

"Longer than I have time to tell his years!"

WITH thee, my friend, sincerely I'll rejoice,

And raise on high my ever-grateful voice,

To that great BEING, who with tender care,

In utmost danger, deign'd thy life to spare.

SHAKES.

What countless pangs that moment might have brought,
Oh! how I shudder at the painful thought!

While fancy paints the madd'ning scene of woe,
With copious floods of tears my eyes o'erflow;

Nor can I banish the tormenting train

Of thoughts, that crowd upon my giddy brain;
In spite of reason, sorrow still returns,
And o'er thy corse imagination mourns.

Just so the timid wand'rer of the night,

Thinks on pale ghosts, and trembles with affright;