ÆäÀÌÁö À̹ÌÁö
PDF
ePub

Ye fair associates of my opening bloom,
Oh come and weep, and profit at my tomb!
Let my short youth, my blighted beauty, prove
The fatal poison of unlawful love!

Oh think how quick my foul career I ran,
The dupe of Passion, Vanity, and Man!
Then shun the path where gay delusions shine,
Be yours the lesson-sad experience mine!

J. W.

ADDRESS TO ENTERPRIZE.

BY A TRAVELLER.

Ox lofty mountains roaming
O'er bleak perennial snow,

Where cataracts are foaming,

And raging north winds blow;
Where hungry wolves are prowling,
And famish'd eagles cry,
Where tempests loud are howling,
And lowring vapours fly;

There, at the peep of morning,
Bedeck'd with dewy tears,
Wild weeds her brows adorning,
Bold Enterprize appears;
While keen-ey'd Expectation
Still points to objects new;

See panting Emulation

Her fleeting steps pursue.

List! list! celestial Virgin,
And oh the vow record;
From every care emerging

I pledge this solemn word-
By deserts, fields, or fountains,
While life, while health remains,
O'er Lapland's icy mountains,
Or Afric's burning plains;

Or midst the darksome wonders
Which earth's vast caves conceal,
Where subterranean thunders
Primeval fires reveal;

Where, bright in matchless lustre,
The lithal flowers unfold,
And midst the beauteous cluster
Beams efflorescent gold;

In every varied station,
Whate'er my fate may

My hope, my exultation,

be,

Is still to follow thee.
When age, with sickness blended,
Shall check the gay career,
And death, tho' oft suspended,
Shall seem to hover near,

Then oft, in visions fleeting,
May thy fair form be nigh,
And still thy votary greeting,
Receive his parting sigh;
And tell a joyful story

Of some new world of bliss,

Eclipsing all the glory

Thou promis'd him in this.

RHADEGUNDA.

EDWIN AND LUCY.

A BALLAD.

"O! who is she, with haggard eye,

That scales the airy steep,

Oft as the silver star of eve
Gleams on the distant deep?

"That with unweary'd step ascends

The promontory's height,

Oft as the melancholy main

Reflects the lunar light;

"And there, to winds that murmur low,

That sings so sadly sweet,

And still her toiling eye-balls strains
The gliding sail to meet ?"

O! wonder not, that, stranger there,
You hear the song of woe;

And mark the lovely Maniac stand,
And watch the waves below.

Hark! to the story of her woe,
As, from yon rude rock's height,
She pours the dying notes of grief
On the dull ear of night.

"Can winds, with envy fraught and hate, The sails of Love detain ?

Or can the waves refuse to speed
A lover o'er the main ?

"Ye stars, that gem the brow of night,
Or glimmer o'er the steep;

Or hide your orbs in clouds, or bathe
Your tresses in the deep;

"Shine forth, in all your splendour bright, To guide him on his way,

Nor, with malignant influence fraught,
A lover's steps delay.

"And thou, pale moon, that travell'st far,

Thy friendly light bestow,

For thou wert witness to his love,

His tears, and parting vow.

"For him, ye sea-nymphs, cease to pour Your wildly-warbled strains,

Nor lure him to your green retreats,
To bind him in your chains.

"What shades incline my love to stay?

Or hide him from my view?
Art thou the sport of wayward fate?
Or is thy heart untrue?

"Hast thou forgot thy plighted vows?

And Lucy lost her charms?

And not a thought of other days

Thy raptur'd bosom warms?

"Though with the smiling cherub, Peace,
My waning beauty flew,
Wilt thou not love thy Lucy still
As thou wert wont to do?

"Alas! 'tis all for thee, that grief
Has dimm'd her eyes with tears;
That on her channell'd cheek no more
The rose of health appears!

"For thee, that to the mercy-seat
Her supplications rise;

The day is seen through clouds of woe,
The night is spent in sighs!

"For thee, that with the sun she climbs The promontory's height,

And lingers there till ocean's wave
Reflects the lunar light!”

Long shall she stray these haunts among,
To watch the gliding sail;

That bark shall ne'er return, for which
She keeps her vigils pale.

The youth for whom she breathes the sigh, And climbs the steep in vain,

Now sleeps the long-long sleep of death, Beneath the roaring main!

Poor child of grief! didst thou not weep? Did not thy bosom bleed?

Till Reason fled thy fever'd brain,

And left thee poor indeed!

« ÀÌÀü°è¼Ó »