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• O, let me all thy steps attend !
• I'll point new treasures to thy fight; « Whether the grove thy wish befriend,
• Or hedge-rows green, or meadows bright.
• I'll few my love the cleareft rill,
• Whose streams among the pebbles Aray; « These will we fip, and fip our fill,
« Or on the flow'ry margin play.
• I'll lead her to the thickest brake,
Impervious to the school-boy's eye; * For her the plaister'd nest I'll make,
• And on her downy pinions lie.
• When prompted by a mother's care,
• Her warmth shall form th’imprison’d young, • The pleasing talk I'll gladly share,
• Or chear her labours with my song,
• To bring her food I'll range the fields,
• And cull the best of ev'ry kind; • Whatever Nature's bounty yields,
• And love's assiduous care can find.
• And when my lovely mate would stray
"To taste the summer sweets at large,
• Then prove with me the sweets of love,
"With me divide the cares of life ;
He ceas'd his song. The melting dame
With soft indulgence heard the train ; She felt, the own'd, a'mutual Aame,
And hafted to relieve his pain.
He led her to the nuptial bower,
And nestled closely to her fide;
And the the most delighted bride.
Next morn he wak’d her with a long ;
• Behold,' he said, • the new-born day! • The lark his matin peal has rung,
• Asise, my love, and come away."
Together thro' the fields they ftray'd,
And to the murm'ring riv'let's fide; Renew'd their vows, and hopp'd and play'd,
With honest joy, and decent pride.
When, oh! with grief the Muse relates
tale ; Sent by an order from the Fates,
A gunner met them in the vale.
Alarm'd, the lover cry'd, My dear,
• Hafte, hafte away, from danger fly! • Here, gunner! point thy thunder here ;
• O, spare my love, and let me die !!
At him the gunner took his aim;
His aim, alas! was all too true : O! had he chose some other game!
Or fhot-as he was wont to do!
Divided pair ! forgive the wrong,
While I with tears your fate rehearse ;
And save the lover in my verse.
ET a few years, or days perhaps,
Or moments pass with filent lapfe,
And life's fantastick dream be o'er.
Alas! I touch the dreadful brink;
And endless darkness wraps me round!
And constant at my board is found.
Earth, air, and fire, and water, join
And where for succour can I fly?
By Art, ere Nature bids, I die.
I fee this tyrant of the mind,
Once call?d from duft by Pow'r divine ;
It's features change ! 'tis pale ! 'tis cold
Thy aspect, is to make it mine.
And can I, then, with guilty pride,
This fleth ftill pamper and adorn!
Or look on aught around with scorn?
But then this spark that warms, that guides,
Can this be duft, a kneaded clod!
That knows, at once, itself and God?
Great Cause of all, above, below,
Immortal and divine !
And bids eternity be mine!
Transporting thought !-but am I fure
Joy's only to the just decreed !
That endless mis’ry may succeed.
Great God, how awful is the scene!
a transient breath between ; And can I jelt, and laugh, and play!
To earth, alas ! too firmly bound,
Are shiver'd when they're torn away.
Vain joys, which envy'd greatness gains,
Which alk Herculean strength to break!
arm'd The pow'r whose slightest glance alarm'd!
How many deaths of one ye make!
Yet, dumb with wonder, I behold
Forget or scorn the laws of death;
Each thinks he draws immortal breath.
Each, blind to Fate's approaching hour,
And flumb'ring dangers dare provoke:
And feels an unexpected stroke.
Go on, unbridled, desp'rate band,
And spoil new worlds, wherever founder
Nor spare the temple's holy ground.
They go, succeed; but look again,
Now trod in duft, the peasant's scorn!