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Au pass not here, if thou didst ever know,
From the Norel of Emma Corbet. EPITAPH,
BY THE LATE BISHOP LOWTH ON HIS DAUGHTER,
CARA, vale, ingenio præstans, pietate, pudore,
DEARER than daughter, paralleld by few In genius, goodness, modesty-adieu; Adieu, Maria-till that day more blest, When, if deserving, I with thee shall rest. “ Come, then,” thy sire will cry in joyful strain, “ O come to my paternal arms again!"
J. Duncombe, M. A.
Distress me with those tears no more,
One kiss, my love, and then adieu ; The last boat destin'd for the shore,
Waits, dearest girl, alone for you: Soon, soon before the light winds borne,
Shall I be sever'd from your sight; You left the lonely hours to mourn,
And weep thro' many a stormy night.
When far along the restless deep,
In trim array the ship shall steer; Your form remembrance still shall keep,
Your worth affection still revere; And with the distance from your eyes,
My love for you shall be increas'd; As to the pole the needle flies,
And farthest off still varies least.
While round the bowl the cheerful crew,
Shall sing of triumphs on the main;
Of you alone shall be my strain.
Revengeful for our country's wrong;
BY A GENTLEMAN IN MARYLAND.
When chilling boreas blows no more,
And snows are melted down; When gentle zephyr's soft'ning pow'r
Spring's mild advances own;
Or if when scorching Sirius reigns,
And taints the putrid air;
To mountains you'll repair.
A mountain bard your steps invites
To shun the baleful rays;
In cooler sleep your days;
Where no moschetoes e'er intrude,
No fly disturbs your rest;:
And discompose your breast;
Who haply may soft dreams impart,
And for your lover plead ;
And he be blest indeed.
Come then, fair maid, and bring along
Your gentle grace, and ease,
And all your arts to please.
And if your fair companion deign
The invitation to approve,
And wit shall weave the crown of love..
Around her trees will crow'd their shade,
And birds will channt a sprightlier lay; And ev'ry flower, and ev'ry blade,
Will welcome the auspicious day.
Fatal ambition ! hapless fate!
Who wedded but to noble strife, Exchanges happiness for state,
And sinks into a wretch for life.
The present hour is all we taste,
Catch the fleet pleasures as they move;