STANZAS ON WOMAN. WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from ev'ry eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom-is, to die. STANZAS ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC. AMIDST the clamour of exulting joys, Which triumph forces from the patriot heart; Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice, And quells the raptures which from pleasures start. Oh, Wolfe, to thee a streaming flood of woe, Sighing we pay, and think e'en conquest dear; Quebec in vain shall teach our breasts to glow, Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear. Alive the foe thy dreadful vigour fled, And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes: Yet they shall know thou conquerest, though dead! Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise. DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR'S BED-CHAMBER. WHERE the Red Lion staring o'er the way, There in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug, The Muse found Scroggen stretch'd beneath a rug; The seasons, fram'd with listing, found a place, I The morn was cold, he views with keen desire With beer and milk arrears, the frieze was scor'd, SONG, INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN THE COMEDY OF SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER." Ан me! when shall I marry me? But I will rally and combat the ruiner: Not a look, not a smile shall my passion discover; O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver, Still importunate and vain, To former joys recurring ever, Thou, like the world, th' opprest oppressing, A SONNET. WEEPING, murmuring, complaining, Lost to ev'ry gay delight; Myra, too sincere for feigning, Fears th' approaching bridal night. Yet why impair thy bright perfection? She long had wanted cause of fear. |