Nor genius swell-nor beauty render vain
Nor envy ruffle to retaliate pain-

Nor fortune change-pride raise-nor passion bow, Nor virtue teach austerity-till now.

Serenely purest of her sex that live,

But wanting one sweet weakness-to forgive,
Too shock'd at faults her soul can never know,
She deems that all could be like her below:
Foe to all vice, yet hardly virtue's friend,
For virtue pardons those she would amend.
But to the theme :-now laid aside too long
The baleful burthen of this honest song-
Though all her former functions are no more,
She rules the circle which she served before.
If mothers-none know why-before her quake;
If daughters dread her for the mother's sake;
If early habits-those false links, which bind
At times the loftiest to the meanest mind-
Have given her power too deeply to instil
The angry essence of her deadly will;
If like a snake she steal within your walls,
Till the black slime betray her as she crawls;
If like a viper to the heart she wind,

And leave the venom there she did not find;
What marvel that this hag of hatred works
Eternal evil latent as she lurks,

To make a Pandemonium where she dwells,
And reign the Hecate of domestic hells?
Skill'd by a touch to deepen scandal's tints
With all the kind mendacity of hints,

While mingling truth with falsehood-sneers with smiles

A thread of candour with a web of wiles;

A plain blunt show of briefly-spoken seeming,
To hide her bloodless heart's soul-harden'd schem

ing;

A lip of lies a face form'd to conceal;
And, without feeling, mock at all who feel:
With a vile mask the Gorgon would disown;
A cheek of parchment-and an eye of stone.
Mark, how the channels of her yellow blood
Ooze to her skin, and stagnate there to mud,
Cased like the centipede in saffron mail,

Or darker greenness of the scorpion's scale-
(For drawn from reptiles only may we trace
Congenial colours in that soul or face)-
Look on her features! and behold her mind
As in a mirror of itself defined:

Look on the picture! deem it not o'ercharged-
There is no trait which might not be enlarged:
Yet true to Nature's journeymen,' who made
This monster, when their mistress left off trade,-
This female dog-star of her little sky,
Where all beneath her influence droop or die.
Oh! wretch without a tear-without a

thought,

Save joy above the ruin thou hast wroughtThe time shall come, nor long remote, when thou

Shalt feel far more than thou inflictest now;
Feel for thy vile self-loving self in vain,
And turn thee howling in unpitied pain.
May the strong curse of crush'd affections light
Back on thy bosom with reflected blight!
And make thee in thy leprosy of mind
As loathsome to thyself as to mankind!
Till all thy self-thoughts curdle into hate,
Black-as thy will for others would create;
Till thy hard heart be calcined into dust,
And thy soul welter in its hideous crust,
Oh, may thy grave be sleepless as the bed,-
The widow'd couch of fire, that thou hast spread!

S

Then, when thou fain wouldst weary Heaven with

prayer,

Look on thine earthly
y victims and despair!
Down to the dust!—and, as thou rott'st away,
Even worms shall perish on thy poisonous clay. I
But for the love I bore, and still must bear,
To her thy malice from all ties would tear-r
Thy name thy human name to every eye,
The climax of all scorn should hang on high, I
Exalted o'er thy less abhorr'd compeers→→→
And festering in the infamy of years.

FAREWELL.

FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer
For other's weal avail'd on high,
Mine will not all be lost in air,

But waft thy name beyond the sky... "Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh:

Oh! more than tears of blood can tell, When rung from guilt's expiring eye,

Are in that word-Farewell!-Farewell!

These lips are mute, these eyes are dry;
But in my breast, and in my brain,
Awake the pangs that pass not by,

The thought that ne'er shall sleep again.
My soul nor deigns nor dares complain,
Though grief and passion there rebel;
I only know we loved in vain—

I only feel-Farewell!--Farewell!

"TWAS whisper'd in heaven, 'twas mutter'd in hell, And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell: On the confines of earth 'twas permitted to rest, And the depths of the ocean its presence confest. "Twill be found in the sphere when 'tis riven asunder, Be seen in the light'ning, and heard in the thunder. 'Twas allotted to man with his earliest breath, Attends at his birth, and awaits him in death; It presides o'er his happiness, honour, and health, Is the prop of his house and the end of his wealth; Without it the soldier, the seaman may roam, But woe to the wretch who expels it from home. In the whispers of conscience its voice will be found, Nor e'en in the whirlwind of passion be drown'd: "Twill not soften the heart, and though deaf to the "Twill make it acutely and instantly hear. [ear, But in shade let it rest, like a delicate flow'rOh! breathe on it softly-it dies in an hour.

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