No; she must be perfect snow, Then, if others share with me, Sir Walter Raleigh, THE DRUM. I HATE that Drum's discordant sound, Of tawdry lace, and glitt'ring arms; And, when Ambition's voice commands, To march, and fight, and fall, in foreign lands. I hate that Drum's discordant sound, Scott's Poetical Works. ODE. No glory I covet, no riches I want, The one thing I beg of kind heaven to grant, With passion unruffled, untainted by pride, The wants of my nature are cheaply supply'd, The blessings which Providence freely has lent, Whilst sweet meditation, and cheerful content, In the pleasures the great man's possessions display, For ev'ry fair object my eyes can survey, How vainly, through infinite troubles and strife, Since all that is truly delightful in life, R Literary Magazine. A ROUNDELAY. WHILE these close walls thy beauties hide, My love-which nothing can outvie, Ye breezes, tell her as ye fly; And tho' (by adverse friends confin'd) Yet, oh! ye winds, her sighs conceal; And Neptune sues for her embrace. Small need you shou'd her accents bear, Vocal Magazine. ODE TO INDIFFERENCE. OFT I've implor'd the gods in vain, And pray'd till I've been weary, For once I'll try my wish to gain Of Oberon the fairy. Sweet airy being, wanton sprite, If e'er thy pitying heart was mov'd, And for th' Athenian maid that lov'd O deign once more t' exert thy pow'r, Ah! haste, and shed the sacred balm, My shatter'd nerves new string; And for my guest, serenely calm, The nymph Indiff'rence bring. At her approach see fear, pale fear, And disappointment in the rear, The tear that pity taught to flow, The heart that griev'd for other's woe, And wounds that now each moment bleed; And tranquil days shall then succeed O fairy elf, but grant me this, Só may the glow-worm's glittering light And be thy acorn goblet fill'd With heaven's ambrosial dew, From sweetest, freshest flow'rs distill'd, |