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Here VutCAX, clad in arms of fire, And here the venerable Juno stood,

And he that ever bears the bow,

Who bathes his loose dishevell'd flow

Of hair, in Castaly's pure flood, He whose sweet strains the Lycian fields admire, Whose natal groves have caught the echoes of his lyre.

How by its own weight falls the brutal force
That knows no counsel, keeps no govern'd course!
Attemper'd strength alone the Gods approve,
But curse the giant-soul that furious mischiefs move.

This well the Monster Gtas knew;
This did the mad Orion prove,
That dar'd chaste Dian with his savage love,
Him the virgin arrow slew.

Still mourns, still mourns the sorrowing earth, Her sons all buried in her own sad womb;

Still does she weep the hideous birth,
Whom the black thunder with its direful blow Headlong to meet th' eternal doom, Sent to the lurid shades below.

Still shall the piercing flame devour
The stubborn /etna's mountain soul;
Still shall the hungry birds of vengeful pow'r
O'er the hotTiTYUs' lustful liver scowl;
Still the rash lover curse his galling pains,
Pirithous, ever bound in adamantine chains.

STANZAS.

WRITTEN IN SICKNESS, JANUARY 1803.

Yes, I have seen the dappl'd morn Blush o'er the eastern hill;
The Lark, on dewy wing up-borne

The cloud with music fill:
I've seen the Spring, in smiles array'd,
Repair the ruins Winter made,

And breathe around her balmy gales;
And bid her flowers of various dye
Send a pure incense to the sky,

And gem the verdant vales!

But where Quair's crystal streamlets flow,

No more mine eye shall trace,—
With raptures Poets only know,—

The charms on Nature's face!
For pale Disease and racking Pain,
With ills and woes, a numerous train,

Relentless on my vitals prey!
And, gathering vigour every hour,
Life yields to their superior power,

And soon must faint away!

O Man I how soon thy vigour's lost!

How swift thy years are flown !—
Child of to-day '. thou canst not boast

To-morrow as thine own!—
Why struggle then for pomp or power i
Why scale Ambition's tottering tower?

Why grasp at Wealth with eager hand?
Can these Disease's victim save?
Can these defraud the greedy grave,

When Death makes the demand?

By Hope and Inexperience led,

In Youth's unclouded morn,
Life's flowery path we fearless tread,

And every danger scorn I
The sprightly heart, the beaming eye,
Seem care and sorrow to defy,

And promise pleasures ever new;
We listen to the woodland song,
We crop, as light we dance along,

Each flower that meets the view!

But soon, stern Disappointment lays

Hope's fair creation waste!
The morning sun's enlivening rays

Are soon with clouds o'ercast!
The winds in all their fury roar;
The skies a wintry deluge pour,

Loud thunders rend the troubl'd air f
Man, 'wilder'd, help in vain demands,
And, 'mid th' impending ruin, stands

An image of Despair!

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Affliction t thou this solemn truth

Hast made my heart to know,
The scenes which to the eye of Youth

In Hope's bright colours glow,
Are fleeting, as the shades that glide
Along the mountain's sunny side,

When clouds sail on the breeze's wing;
And false and unsubstantial too,
As the fantastic forms we view,

And midnight visions bring!

If e'er my tender heart was wrung

In sad Misfortune's hour,
The Muse that rul'd my simple song

With more than magic power,
Still taught me to forget my woe,
Forbade the starting tear to flow;

And while she lent her ready aid, To gratitude by sufferings train'd, 1 prais'd my God who gave a Friend,

A Friend that ne'er betray'd!

But now on Life's extremest bound,

The Muse can charm no more! No more my numbers shall resound

On Quair's enamell'd shore!
No more the balmy rustling gale,
The echo of the lonely dale,

The flower, by Nature painted gay,
The music of the woodland reign,
The streamlet babbling o'er the plain,

Shall prompt th' unbidden lay J But who in smiles descends to cheer

My soul in Death's dread hour? All hail, Religion! every fear

Yields to thy soothing power! Thou mann'st the trembling heart to tread, The path that leads me to the dead!

And pour'st celestial light around! Thou wing'st the soul, thou point'st the eye, To worlds of endless bliss, that lie

Beyond life's narrow bound!

When this warm heart forgets to beat,

And life's last pang is o'er,
May pleasures unreprov'd await

The friends I lov'd before:
But, ah! what hand shall balm impart
To soothe my Nancy's woe-worn heart,

Who all my sorrows joy'd to share ?— Heav'n! thou canst ne'er the Good forsake, Guard then my Nancy !Nancy make

Thine own peculiar care!

If e'er Misfortune's hapless child,

By kindred feelings led,
Pensive pervade the rural wild

To view my lowly bed,
Let not Despair his soul invade;
Each storm I bore in life's dark shade,

And Independence gain'd at last:
But then my fate proclaims aloud,
That man's a fool who dares be proud,

As life would ever last,

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