ODE. WHY, Damon, with the forward day, What winds arise, what rains descend, What do thy noon-tide walks avail, An insect of more use than thee? Thou and the worm are brother kind, Vain wretch! canst thou expect to see Thy narrow pride, thy fancy'd green, All must be left when death appears, Nor one-of all thy plants that grow, SONG OF THE FAIRIES TO THE HASTEN from your coral caves, And gilds the fins, and spots the shells! Ere the gaudy morning shine! Rising from the foamy wave, Haste, or we must hence away, At your bidding, from our feet Haste, the dawn has streak'd the cloud, See the clouds of night retire, Hesper gleams with languid fire; The blush of morn is on the brine. Loit'rers! we must hence away, Miss Seward. TO IANTHE. BELOV'D, each anxious fear repel; Think not that aught our hearts can sever; My soul a transient flame shall scorn : To thee I've sworn no short-liv'd duty, Like theirs whose passions, beauty born, Still sickens and expires with beauty. Sorrow and pain those locks may rend Alas! 'tis true that I may see Their rugged hands thy graces ruin, And sad indeed my soul will be, With sighs their fatal progress viewing! But thou no alter'd love shall find, Davenport. SONG. RING on! ring on, ye merry bells, And be to others sounds of gladnessAlas! your silver sweetness swells And wakes my slumb'ring heart to madness. Ring on! ring on, for since your chimes And rouse their joys, like spectres sallow. Ah! ring such pensive peals as when In these tall groves I wander'd sighing, And listen'd to the best of men, Who now in yonder grave is lying! Ah! ring such peals as may recal Those happy hours, now gone for ever, And whilst the bitter tear-drops fall, At once my soul and reason sever! Anna Maria Porter. THE EXILE. YE hills of my country, soft fading in blue, That mingles its tide with the blood of the brave; Ye scenes of remembrance that sorrow beguil'd, But the image of hopes that have vanish'd in air: ye But never to me shall the summer renew The bow'rs where the days of my happiness flew; Once more may soft accents your wild echoes fill, |