Ambiguous looks, that scorn and yet relent, 20 Sleep, wayward God! hath sworn, while these remain, With flattering dreams to dry his nightly tear, And cheerful Hope, so oft invoked in vain, With fairy songs shall soothe his pensive ear. If, bound by vows to Friendship's gentle side, 25 And fond of soul, thou hopest an equal grace, If youth or maid thy joys and griefs divide, O, much entreated, leave this fatal place! Sweet Peace, who long hath shunn'd my plain- 29 TO MISS AURELIA C--R, ON HER WEEPING AT HER SISTER'S WEDDING. CEASE, fair Aurelia, cease to mourn, With Love united Hymen stands, And softly whispers to your charms, "Meet but your lover in my bands, You'll find your sister in his arms." SONNET. WHEN Phoebe form'd a wanton smile, Strange, that thy peace, thou trembler, flies Before a rising tear! From 'midst the drops, my love is born, That o'er those eyelids rove : Thus issued from a teeming wave The fabled queen of love. 5 5 SONG. THE SENTIMENTS BORROWED FROM SHAKESPEARE. YOUNG Damon of the vale is dead, Ye lowly hamlets, moan; A dewy turf lies o'er his head, And at his feet a stone. His shroud, which Death's cold damps destroy, 5 Of snow white threads was made: All mourn'd to see so sweet a boy In earth for ever laid. Pale pansies o'er his corpse were placed, Which, pluck'd before their time, Bestrew'd the boy, like him to waste And wither in their prime. But will he ne'er return, whose tongue' Could tune the rural lay? Ah, no! his bell of peace is rung, His lips are cold as clay. 10 15 VARIATION. Ver. 2. Ye lowland hamlets, moan; They bore him out at twilight hour, Ah, me! how many a true love shower Each maid was woe-but Lucy chief, Within his grave she dropp'd in grief, ON OUR LATE TASTE IN MUSIC. Quid vocis modulamen inane juvabat MILTON. BRITONS! away with the degenerate pack! No music once could charm you like your own, hung Attentive to the sounds-and blest the song! a Now Countess-dowager of Peterborough. 9 14 |