In the fair morn of favor's roseate day,
By fudden fall his fetters drop away:
On the wide world's tempeftuous ocean caft,
How happy from the ftorm efcap'd at laft,
To fave the wreck of life, a want-devoted prey!

Yet ftill to cheer him in this wreck of life,
One treasure, fource of foothing peace remain'd:
In this he deems all happiness regain'd;

A friend, a cottage, and a faithful wife.

"O gracious Heaven! but deign these bleffings fpare,
"Spare me but thefe!" was now his only prayer.
No other with his happy spirit knew

Heav'n heard-ten years like one too swiftly flew,
Then o'er their tomb he bow'd an image of defpair!

Three fons, fair thriving in life's vernal bloom,
The image of his youth, and hope of age,

Are fwept away by peftilential rage,

And grief foon lays their mother in the tomb.

Who now is left that fighs his figh to hear,

Who, when he weeps, confoles with anfw'ring tear?

For, ah! his only friend, he too is gone!

Bereft of all he lov'd, he pines alone;

Lone, in a stranger world, bow'd down with woe fevere!

He droops upon the defolated fpot,
A lone and leaflefs tree, 'mid ftormy gales:
The fountain of his joy for ever fails-
How infupportable the friendlefs cot
Where happiness once fix'd her chofen place!
What is the world? a vaft and vacant space
For fortune's wheel to roll around at will!
His laft lov'd prop now gone, why linger ftill?
His fole fad with a grave, to end his weary

race.

Within this void inhofpitable feat
Alphonfo flew with woe-bewilder'd mind:
And found, what grief had never hop'd to find,
Peace and content as tardy years retreat.

Tho' worldlings from the wretch had bafely flown,
One who Alphonfo's profperous days had known,
An old domeftic, faithful to his lord,

Cleaves to his fide in grief without reward

And here their fole retreat, the rude o'erhanging stone.

And by degrees he ftruggled thro' the flood
That nigh o'erwhelm'd his foul in hopeless death-
Peace, fillness, temperance, Zephyr's balmy breath,
His mind unclouded, purified his blood,

And

4

And bade new hope a gleam of joy reftore.
And now he felt from heaven's exhauftlefs ftore
That e'en for wounds like his a balfam flow'd:
Felt, when the magic of a fun-beam glow'd,

That nature's charms had pow'r to footh his foul once more.

And when at laft this paradife he saw,

By fome kind genius fenc'd with rocks around,
As if for him a confecrated ground,

He feels affliction from his foul withdraw:
He feels his fpirit glowing with delight,.
Rous'd from the tortures of a fev'rous night,
Soar to the twilight of eternal day-

"Here reft," he cries," this paradife furvey,

"Reft, where no worldly grief our fouls fhall rudely fmite!"

Thus in enjoyment, and alternate toil,
He the late harveft of his life confum'd,
And till'd his little fpot, where ever bloom'd
Luxuriant plenty from the grateful foil-
Labour was pleasure, labour fweeten'd reft:
Loft to the world, its miferies feem'd at best
A childish dream, whene'er he turn'd to trace
The wretched earnings of his earthly race:

Thus confcience, health, and peace, his fpirit daily bleft.

Now, bow'd with years, his lov'd companion diedAlone remain'd the hermit, yet the more

His spirit turn'd to that celestial shore,

Where all he lov'd did with their God refide

There dwelt his foul-a wandering ftranger here

'Mid the ftill night when objects disappear,

And bodies, as external fenfes die,

In their firft nothing feem again to lie,

Oft on his cheek he felt a breathing spirit near.

Then his half-flumbering ears in trance perceive,With fhuddering rapture heard, the groves among, Angelic harmonies at diftance fung,

For him the inexpreffive chorus weave:

And as he lifts he feels earth's flender wall,

That parts him from his friends, about to fall:

His fpirit fwells, a flame celeftial bright

Burns in his breaft, while rob'd in heavenly light

Shapes of the view lefs world his foul refponfive call.

Thefe yet remain, when foftly laid in fleep
His eyelids clofe, and in the morning rays
When the wide world its theatre difplays,
Still o'er his fenfe the warbled echoes fweep;

N 2.

A foul

A foul-felt glance of heavenly joy fupreme
Gilds all around, the groves and mountains gleam;
And, over all, he fees the form divine,

The uncreated in his creatures fhine,

Bright as in drops of dew the fun's reflected beam.

Thus imperceptibly did heaven and earth
United in his foul together runt via v
His fpirit brightens like an inward fun: des
Far from the dissonance of mortal birth,
From paffion's turmoil, in this holy gloom
Joys that await the bleft his foul illume...
Who locks my daring lip with viewlefs feal,
Left aught ineffable its warmth reveal?

Mute o'er th' abyfs I bend-man dares no more presume.

SITUATION, ORNAMENTS, &c. of a VILLA, adapted to lettered Eafe.

[From an Epistle to a FRIEND, &c. by the Author of the PLEASURES OF MEMORY.]

TILL muft my partial pencil love to dwell

The moffy pales that fkirt the orchard green,
Here hid by fhrub-wood, there by glimpfes feen;
And the brown pathway, that, with careless flow,
Sinks, and is loft among the trees below.
Still muft it trace (the flattering tints forgive)
Each fleeting charm that bids the landscape live.
Oft o'er the mead, at pleafing diftance pafs
Browsing the hedge by fits the pannier'd afs;
The idling thepherd-boy, with rude delight,
Whistling his dog to mark the pebble's flight;
And in her kerchief blue the cottage-maid,
With brimming pitcher from the fhadowy glade.
Far to the fouth a mountain-vale retires,
Rich in its groves, and glens, and village-fpires;
Its upland lawns, and cliffs with foliage bung,
Its wizard-ftream, nor nameless nor unfung:
And thro' the various year, the various day,
What fcenes of glory burft, and melt away!

Here no ftate-chambers in long line unfold,
Bright with broad mirrors, rough with fretted gold;
Yet modeft ornament, with ufe combin'd,
Attracts the eye to exercise the mind.

Small

Small change of scene, fmall space his home requires,
Who leads a life of fatisfied defires.

What tho' no marble breathes, no canvas glows,
From every point a ray of genius flows!
Be mine to blefs the more mechanic skill,
That ftamps, renews, and multiplies at will,
And cheaply circulates, thro' diftant climes,
The fairest relics of the pureft times.
Here from the mould to confcious being fiart
Those finer forms, the miracles of art;
Here chofen gems, impreft on fulphur, fhine,
That flept for ages in a second mine ;
And here the faithful graver dares to trace
A Michael's grandeur, and a Raphael's grace!
Thy gallery, Florence, gilds my humble walls,
And my low roof the Vatican recalls!

Soon as the morning-dream my pillow flies,
To waking fenfe what brighter vifions rife!
O mark; again the courfers of the fun,
At Guido's call, their round of glory run!
Again the rofy Hours refume their flight,
Obfcur'd and loft in floods of golden light!

But could thine erring friend fo long forget (Sweet fource of penfive joy and fond regret) That here its warmeft hues the pencil flings, Lo! here the loft reftores, the abfent brings; And still the few beft lov'd and most rever'd > Rife round the board their social smile endear'd?

Selected shelves fhall claim thy ftudious hours;
There fhall thy ranging mind be fed on flowers!
There, while the fhaded lamp's mild luftre ftreams,
Read ancient books, or woo infpiring dreams;
And, when a fage's buft arrefts thee there,
Paufe, and his features with his thoughts compare.
-Ah, most that art my grateful rapture calls,
Which breathes a foul into the filent walls;
Which gathers round the wife of every tongue,
All on whose words departed nations hung;
Still prompt to charm with many a converse fweet;
Guides in the world, companions in retreat!

Tho' my thatch'd bath no rich mofaic knows,
A limpid ftream with unfelt current flows.
Emblem of life! which, ftill as we furvey,
Seems motionlefs, yet ever glides away!
The fhadowy walls record, with Attic art,
The strength and beauty that its waves impart.
N 3

Here

Here Thetis, bending, with a mother's fears
Dips her dear boy, whofe pride reftrains his tears.
There Venus, rifing, fhrinks with fweet furprize,
As her fair felf reflected feems to rife!

LINES from a Sick and Dying PLANT at HAMPTON COURT, to her VIGOROUS HEALTHY SISTER at SURBITON FARM.

[From Mrs. MoODY'S POETIC TRIFLES.]

HOU dear companion of my birth,
The produce of one parent earth;

The care of one protecting hand,

And foringing both from courtly land:
Ah why did fate our lots disjoin,

And bleflings only give to thine!

Why were not we, twin fifters, fent

To the fame rural banishment?

How chang'd fince our laft parting fcene,
Thy Columnea's lovely mien:
When all my buds expanding grew,
With colour of a fcarlet hue:

My ftem poffefs'd a vigorous power,
Though framed to bear a flender flower;
And on my leaves of tender green,
Was Nature's lighteft pencil feen.
Thus from the nursery we came,
With charms deferving equal fame :
But equal fortune was not given;
Thine was the charge of kinder Heaven.
Yet mine, beheld through fafhion's glafs,
Where grandeur's glittering vifions pass,
A happier difpenfation feem'd;
And thine a vulgar lot was deem'd;
For I was deftin'd to refort
Amid the precincts of a court;
While thou an exile to a cot,
By courts and courtiers art forgot.
But Nature judging in our cafe,
Decides through my declining face,
That tainted gales a court furround,
Where noxious particles abound;
She near no palace will refide,
Averse to haunts of wealth and pride;
Her laws exploded there the fees,
And all revers'd her pure decrees.
Hence the abandons grandeur's feats,
And feeks fimplicity's retreats.

Alas!