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How poor is life, of love bereav'd!
to Woman i—
Still, for the soul-seducing eyes!
Avaunt complaint, if charms like these
Scarcely our vernal transports past,
in Woman i
Earth's direst plagues alight on them
Victims of misanthropic woe,
Be their's in no kind hour to know
All the dear charities that flow
• from Woman.
Around their knees no children cling, Renew'd in Age life's blooming Spring; Nor to their arms, on Love's soft wing,
Long on the bed of anguish laid,
Ah, then—that bitter scene to chear,
Such be through life his bosom's smart,
Saw you the Sun obscur'd at noon, Burst through the mist, and fiercer blaze?
Saw you at eve the clouded Moon
Shine out, and shed soul-soothing rays?
Oh ! thus shall Truth's eternal beam
Consume foul Falsehood's venom'd shroud!
Thus, thus shall lovely Virtue gleam
On the Most Noble Douglas Hamilton Douglas *, Duke of Hamilton and Brandon, 8fC. SfC. fyc.
BY JOHN DUNLOP, ESQ. f
Here lies reposed, beneath this sculptured stone,
Exulting Nature, when the Child was born,
She crowned him with Perception's brightest beam,
* His Grace was born on the 24th of July, 1756, and died on t h» 1st of August, 1799.
t Author of the Ode to the Right Hon. H. Dundas, Grouse Shooting in the Highlands, after retiring from office in 1801. Poetical Register for 1801. Page 354. This Epitaph has been erroneously ascribed to other hands.
At this sad shrine the serious man may find
THE FOND WIFE,
HUSBAND AT SEA;
BY MRS. LE NOIR.
While heaving billows rock that aching head,
Is not thy spirit in fond visions led
Safe from the tempest, and the whelming tide,
There Ease, and Liberty, and Peace reside,
And tranquil pleasures round spontaneous grow,
Ah! dost thou ne'er regret past happy days,
Ah! dost thou never say, in Pindar's lays,
"Those silver sands of Time shall glide no more?''
VOL. IV. A A
Here, safe from storms, thy tender friend is cast,
Save, when as now—deep howls the angry blast,
Then Fancy paints the frowning sky all dark,
Th' exhausted mariner, the shatter'd bark,
Methinks I hear the shrieks of deep despair,
And 'midst loud thunders crackling timbers fall,
And view thee, stedfast still, the danger dare,
But hence, dire images of wat'ry graves,
Haunt not my visions, nor my soul affright;
Paint me, sweet Fancy, clear transparent waves,
Oh! far be danger from my wand'ring friend,
His health, his safety, I to Heav'n commend,
FOR A STATUE OF CUPID.
I ROM VOLTAIRE.
Whoe'er thou art, thy master see!
REv. W. COLLIER.