Prunes its light wings, and pecks its food,
And meditates the song:

Serenely sorrowing, breathes its piteous case,

And with its plaintive warblings saddens all the place.

Forgive me, Heaven !-yet-yet the tears will flow,
To think how soon my scene of bliss is past !
My budding joys just promising to blow,

All nipt and wither'd by one envious blast!
My hours, that laughing wont to fleet away,
Move heavily along;

Where's now the sprightly jest, the jocund song

Time creeps unconscious of delight :

How shall I cheat the tedious day?
And Othe joyless night!

Where shall I rest my weary head?

How shall I find respose on a sad widow'd bed?

Come, Theban drug, the wretch's only aid,
To my torn heart its former peace restore;
Thy votary wrapp'd in thy Lethean shade,
Awhile shall cease his sorrows to deplore:
Haply, when lock'd in Sleep's embrace,
Again I shall behold my EMMAʼs face;
Again with transport hear

Her voice soft whispering in my ear;
May steal once more a balmy kiss,
And taste at least of visionary bliss.

But, ah! th' unwelcome morn's obtruding light
Will all my shadowy schemes of bliss depose,
Will tear the dear illusion from my sight,
And wake me to the sense of all my woes:
If to the verdant fields I stray,

Alas! what pleasures now can these convey?
Her lovely form pursues where-e'er I go,
And darkens all the scene with woe.
By Nature's lavish bounties chear❜d no more,
Sorrowing I rove

Through valley, grot, and grove:

Nought can their beauties or my loss restore ;
No herb, no plant, can med'cine my disease,
And my sad sighs are borne on every passing breeze.

Sickness and sorrow hovering round my bed,

Who now with anxious haste shall bring relief, With lenient hand support my drooping head, Assuage my pains, and mitigate my grief? Should worldly business call away,

Who now shall in my absence fondly mourn, Count every minute of the loitering day,

Impatient for my quick return?

Should aught my bosom discompose,

Who now,

with sweet complacent air,

Shall smooth the rugged brow of Care,
And soften all my woes?

Too faithful Memory-Cease, O cease-
How shall I e'er regain my peace?

(0 to forget her!)-but how vain each art, Whilst every virtue lives imprinted on my heart!

And thou, my little cherub, left behind,

To hear a father's plaints, to share his woes,
When Reason's dawn informs thy infant mind,
And thy sweet-lisping tongue shall ask the cause,
How oft with sorrow shall mine eyes run o'er,
When, twining round my knees, I trace
Thy mother's smile upon thy face?
How oft to my full heart shalt thou restore
Sad memory of my joys-ah, now no more!
By blessings once enjoy'd now more distrest,
More beggar by the riches once possest.

My little darling 1

-dearer to me grown

By all the tears thou'st caus'd-(O strange to hear!) Bought with a life yet dearer than thy own,

Thy cradle purchas'd with thy mother's bier :
Who now shall seek with fond delight

Thy infant steps to guide aright?
She, who with doating eyes would
On all thy little artless ways,

By all thy soft endearments blest,

gaze

And clasp thee oft with transport to her breast,
Alas! is gone-Yet shalt thou prove
A father's dearest, tenderest love;
And, O sweet senseless smiler (envied state!),
As yet unconscious of thy hapless fate,

When years thy judgment shall mature,
And Reason shews those ills it cannot cure,

Wilt thou, a father's grief to assuage,

For virtue prove the Phoenix of the earth, (Like her, thy mother dy'd to give thee birth) And be the comfort of my age?

When sick and languishing I lie,

Wilt thou my EMMA's wonted care supply?
And, oft as to thy listening ear,

Thy mother's virtues and her fate I tell,
Say, wilt thou drop the tender tear,
Whilst on the mournful theme I dwell?
Then, fondly stealing to thy father's side,
Whene'er thou seest the soft distress,
Which I would vainly seek to hide,

Say, wilt thou strive to make it less?

To sooth my sorrows all thy cares employ, And in my cup of grief infuse one drop of joy ?

MONODY VI.

AN

EVENING ADDRESS TO A NIGHTINGALE.

By the Same.

SWEET bird! that, kindly perching near,
Pourest thy plaints melodious in mine ear,
Not, like base worldlings, tutor❜d to forego
The melancholy haunts of Woe;

Thanks for thy sorrow-soothing strain :-
For, surely, thou hast known to prove,
Like me, the pangs of hapless love;

Else why so feelingly complain,

And with thy piteous notes thus sadden all the grove?

Say, dost thou mourn thy ravish'd mate,

That oft enamour'd on thy strains has hung? Or has the cruel hand of Fate

Bereft thee of thy darling young?

Alas, for BOTH, I weep

In all the pride of youthful charms,

A beauteous bride torn from my circling arms!