Thy plaintive notes are heard above, Again thou shalt behold thy love And be for ever blest. "Ah! can such bliss be mine," she cried, With voice and looks so wild, Then sunk upon the earth and died, Sweet Ellen, sorrow's child. From a MS. EPIGRAM. THE MISER'S FEAST. His chimney smokes! It is some omen dire, His neighbours are alarm'd, and cry out Fire! THE ZEPHYR. As o'er a garden's gay parterre The vows he swore were true. By turns he ev'ry one caress'd, Begone" the conscious bloom reply'd, "To all my sisters you have sigh'd, Your falsehood thence I see; And thence your vows I too contemn, For others you will me." New Lady's Magazine. SONG. IN Yarrow-vale, by Yarrow-stream, In Yarrow-stream, in Yarrow-vale. In Yarrow-vale, by Yarrow-stream, Sweet pleasure reigns-she pensive said— "Here shades indulge the shepherds dream, And zephyrs sooth the slumb'ring maid: While I in languor musing rove, List'ning the lonely woodlark's wail, But none of these my mind can move By Yarrow-stream, in Yarrow-vale. In Yarrow-vale, by Yarrow-stream, Anonymous. THE RAPTURED LOVER. WHEN first upon your tender cheek With mild and cheering beam, I saw you in that opening morn, I watch'd the dawn of every grace, I fondly bless'd each rising charm, But now, despotic, o'er the plains Thus to the rising god of day. Whose glowing chariot mounting soon, They sicken and expire. Mrs. Barbauld. ON A TEAR, OH! that the chymist's magic art The little brilliant, ere it fell, Its lustre caught from Chloe's eye; Then, trembling, left its coral cellThe spring of sensibility! Sweet drop of pure and pearly light, Benign restorer of the soul! Who ever fly'st to bring relief, When first she feels the rude controul Of love or pity, joy or grief. The sages and the poets theme, K |