When Noon directs on earth his parching ray,
Then let me find the cool, the peaceful shade,
Form'd by embow'ring oaks, in firm array,
O'er some small stream that rustles thro' the glade. Thither let Fancy lead her magic band,
And o'er my senses wave her soul-entrancing wand.
But when at eve the curfew's knell
Winds slowly thro' the dusky grove,
Pensive I'll seek the rural cell,
Or midst the gloom in silence rove ;
And when from village spire the solemn toll
Yields its sad tribute to the breathless clay,
As calm reflection steals upon my soul,
The tear unmark'd shall take its silent way; And mournful, oft I'll cull the vi'let's bloom, Heave the sad sigh, and dress the clay-clad tomb.
When Midnight spreads her blackest robe,
And shrouds in sullen mists the sky;
When terror rules the silent globe,
And phantoms mock the fearful eye;
Parent of all! whose voice the winds obey,
The raving ocean, and the black'ning storm, Yet stoop'st to guide the sparrow on its way, And shed'st thy mercy on the struggling worm! To thee, great God! to thee my voice I'll raise; Trembling I'll strike the lyre, and hymn thy boundless
MAY I presume in humble lays,
My dancing fair, thy steps to praise--
While this grand maxim I advance,
That all the world is but a dance?
That human kind, both man and woman,
Do dance, is evident and common.
David himself, that god-like king,
We know could dance, as well as sing.
Folks who at court would keep their ground,
Must dance the year attendance round.
Whole nations dance, gay frisky France
Has led the nation many a dance:
And some believe both France and Spain
Resolve to take us out again.
All nature is one ball, we find,
The water dances to the wind;
The sea itself, at night and noon,
Rises and capers to the moon;
The moon around the earth does tread
A Cheshire round in buxom red;
The earth and planets round the sun
All dance; nor will their dance be done
Till Nature in one mass is blended,
Then we may say, the ball is ended.
COME Smiles, come gay attire, and hide The anguish rankling in my breast! I'll lay my sable garb aside,
And seem to cold enquirers blest―
Yes, I will happy triflers join,
As when grief's dart beside me flew, And love and all its joys were mine,
And sorrow but by name I knew; Ere death had seal'd the cruel doom, Which call'd my Henry to the tomb.—
Hard was the stroke!-but oh, I hate
The sacred pomp of grief to shew,
Thron'd in my breast, in secret state
Shall live the rev'rend form of woe!
For observation would degrade
The homage to her empire paid.
I hate the tear which pity gives,
I'm jealous of her curious eye-
The only balm my heart receives,
Is from my own unheeded sigh,
When veil'd in night, to sleep a foe,
I bend before the throne of woe.-
A face of smiles, a heart of tears!
So, in the church-yard, realm of death,
The turf increasing verdure wears,
While all is pale and dead beneath.
MORAL REFLECTIONS
Written in the Autumn.
In fading grandeur, lo! the trees
Their tarnish'd honours shed,
While ev'ry leaf-compelling breeze
Lays their pale verdure dead.
Ere long the genial breath of spring
Shall all their charms renew;
And flow'r and fruit, and foliage bring,
All pleasing to the view.
Thus round and round the seasons roll,
In one harmonious course; And pour conviction on the soul With unremitting force.
Not such is man's appointed fate,
One spring alone he knows;
One summer, one autumnal state,
One winter's dead repose.
Yet not the icy hand of death
Shall e'er his pow'rs destroy;
But he shall draw immortal breath,
In endless pain or joy.
Important thoughtO mortal, hear
On what thy peace depends:
The voice of Truth invites thine ear,
And this the voice she sends:
"When virtue glows with youthful charms,
How bright the vernal skies! When virtue like the summer warms,
What golden harvests rise!
"When vices spring without controul,
What bitter fruits appear!
A wintry darkness marks the soul,
And horrors close the year.
"Let youth to virtue's shrine repair,
And men their tribute bring;
Old age shall lose its load of care,
And death shall lose its sting.
"Borne upwards on seraphic wing,
Their happy souls shall soar,
And there enjoy eternal spring,
Nor fear a winter more."
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