HE COMPLAINS HOW SOON THE PLEASING NOVELTY OF LIFE IS OVER.

To Mr. Jago'.

АH me! my friend! it will not, will not last! This fairy scene that cheats our youthful eyes; The charm dissolves; the' aerial music's pass'd; The banquet ceases, and the vision flies.

Where are the splendid forms, the rich perfumes,
Where the gay tapers, where the spacious dome?
Vanish'd the costly pearls, the crimson plumes,
And we, delightless, left to wander home!

Vain now are books, the sage's wisdom vain!
What has the world to bribe our steps astray?
Ere Reason learns by studied laws to reign,
The weaken'd passions, self-subdued, obey.
Scarce has the Sun seven annual courses roll'd,
Scarce shown the whole that Fortune can supply,
Since, not the miser so caress'd his gold,

As I, for what it gave, was heard to sigh.
On the world's stage I wish'd some sprightly part,
To deck my native fleece with tawdry lace!
'Twas life, 'twas taste, and—oh, my foolish heart!

Substantial joy was fix'd in power and place.

And you, ye works of Art! allured mine eye, The breathing picture, and the living stone: Though gold, though splendour, Heaven and Fate deny,

Yet might I call one Titian stroke own!'

my

The author of Edge-hill, and other poems.

Smit with the charms of Fame, whose lovely spoil,
The wreath, the garland, fire the poet's pride;
I trimm'd my lamp, consumed the midnight oil-
But soon the paths of Health and Fame divide!
Oft too I pray'd, 'twas Nature form'd the prayer,
To grace my native scenes, my rural home;
To see my trees express their planter's care,
And gay, on Attic models, raise my dome.
But now 'tis o'er, the dear delusion's o'er!
A stagnant breezeless air becalms my soul;
A fond aspiring candidate no more,

I scorn the palm before I reach the goal.
O youth! enchanting stage, profusely bless'd!
Bliss e'en obtrusive courts the frolic mind;
Of health neglectful, yet by health caress'd,
Careless of favour, yet secure to find.

Then glows the breast, as opening roses fair; More free, more vivid than the linnet's wing; Honest as light, transparent e'en as air,

Tender as buds, and lavish as the spring. Not all the force of manhood's active might, Not all the craft to subtle age assign'd, Not science shall extort that dear delight, Which gay delusion gave the tender mind. Adieu, soft raptures! transports void of care! Parent of raptures, dear Deceit! adieu; And you, her daughters, pining with despair, Why, why so soon her fleeting steps pursue? Tedious again to curse the drizzling day!

Again to trace the wintry tracts of snow! Or, sooth'd by vernal airs, again survey

The selfsame hawthorns bud, and cowslips blow!

O life! how soon of every bliss forlorn!

We start false joys, and urge the devious race; A tender prey, that cheers our youthful morn, Then sinks untimely, and defrauds the chase.

HIS RECANTATION.

No more the Muse obtrudes her thin disguise,
No more with awkward fallacy complains
How every fervour from my bosom flies,
And Reason in her lonesome palace reigns.
Ere the chill winter of our days arrive,

No more she paints the breast from passion free; I feel, I feel one loitering wish survive

Ah! need I, Florio, name that wish to thee? The star of Venus ushers in the day,

The first, the loveliest of the train that shine! The star of Venus lends her brightest ray, When other stars their friendly beams resign. Still in my breast one soft desire remains, Pure as that star, from guilt, from interest, free; Has gentle Delia tripp'd across the plains,

And need I, Florio, name that wish to thee? While, cloy'd to find the scenes of life the same, I tune with careless hand my languid lays, Some secret impulse wakes my former flame,

And fires my strain with hopes of brighter days. I slept not long beneath yon rural bowers,

And lo! my crook with flowers adorn'd I see; Has gentle Delia bound my crook with flowers,

And need I, Florio, name my hopes to thee?

TO A FRIEND,

ON SOME SLIGHT OCCASION ESTRANGED FROM HIM.

HEALTH to my friend, and many a cheerful day!
Around his seat may peaceful shades abide!
Smooth flow the minutes, fraught with smiles, away,
And till they crown our union gently glide!

Ah me! too swiftly fleets our vernal bloom!
Lost to our wonted friendship, lost to joy!
Soon may thy breast the cordial wish resume,

Ere wintry doubt its tender warmth destroy! Say, were it ours, by Fortune's wild command, By chance to meet beneath the torrid zone, Wouldst thou reject thy Damon's plighted hand? Wouldst thou with scorn thy once-loved friend disown?

Life is that stranger land, that alien clime:

Shall kindred souls forego their social claim? Launch'd in the vast abyss of space and time,

Shall dark suspicion quench the generous flame? Myriads of souls, that knew one parent mould, See sadly sever'd by the laws of Chance! Myriads, in Time's perennial list enroll'd,

Forbid by Fate to change one transient glance! But we have met-where ills of every form,

Where passions rage, and hurricanes descend; Say, shall we nurse the rage, assist the storm, And guide them to the bosom-of a friend?

Yes, we have met-through rapine, fraud, and

wrong:

Might our joint aid the paths of peace explore! Why leave thy friend amid the boisterous throng, Ere Death divide us, and we part no more?

For, oh! pale Sickness warns thy friend away;
For me no more the vernal roses bloom!

I see stern Fate his ebon wand display,
And point the wither'd regions of the tomb.

Then the keen anguish from thine eye

shall start,

Sad as thou follow'st my untimely bier :
Fool that I was-if friends so soon must part,—
To let suspicion intermix a fear!'

DECLINING AN INVITATION TO VISIT FOREIGN COUNTRIES, HE TAKES OCCASION TO INTIMATE THE ADVANTAGES OF HIS OWN.

To Lord Temple.

WHILE others, lost to friendship, lost to love,
Waste their best minutes on a foreign strand,
Be mine with British nymph or swain to rove,
And court the genius of my native land.

Deluded youth! that quits these verdant plains,
To catch the follies of an alien soil!
To win the vice his genuine soul disdains,
Return exultant, and import the spoil!

In vain he boasts of his detested prize;
No more it blooms, to British climes convey'd;
Cramp'd by the impulse of ungenial skies,
See its fresh vigour in a moment fade!