ABSENCE. A PASTORAL.

BY WILLIAM CAREY, ESQ.

I WEEP, and I sigh, and I wander alone;
Neglected, my flocks run astray;

My heart is grown sad, and my spirits are flown,
Since Colin my love is away.

How tedious the day! and how chill blows the wind!
The sun too, methinks, shines less clear!

In the meadows and woodlands no pleasure I find, Since Colin no longer is here.

At the sound of his voice, I forgot ev'ry care;
He was all that was dear to my sight;

So manly his face, and so graceful his air,
He fill'd my fond heart with delight.

When with him I danc'd at our last Village Fair,

The maidens all envy'd my lot;

They frown'd and repin'd, and were fill'd with despair; He smil'd, and I heeded them not.

He left me, ah cruel! he left me to mourn ;
Three moons he has left me behind;

To my arms, oh ye Pow'rs! may he quickly return
To his Phillida, constant and kind.

ELEGY.

No wandering footstep e'er imprest
The turf that wraps Maria's breast;
Deserted tho' her dwelling be,
"Tis consecrated ground to me.

Western sunbeams warm the gale
That flutters o'er the fairy vale,
Where glows the wild flow'rs humid bloom,
That Friendship nursed on Beauty's tomb.

Celestial forms shall hover there
On pinions of etherial air,

And bid the turf its blossoms wear,

Tho' ruin blast the dying year.

To embalm the verdure of the sod

That shrouds the Sufferer's last abode,

From an Angel's downcast eye

They stole the tear of Sympathy.

The sacred gem of lucid ray,

Gleam'd on the greensward's mould'ring clay,

And wore to the enthusiast's eye,

The lustre of eternity.

Spirit of the breathing west,

Ieave thy cradling cloud of rest;

And wake where Nature's darling lies,

The golden harp of Paradise.

Oft when the dewy hand of Even
Had closed the starry gates of Heaven;
Thou smiledst to hear an earthly tone
As sweet and holy as thine own.

Go hover o'er yon woodlands dim,
'Twas there she breath'd her vesper hymn;
The memory of that thrilling strain
Might calm a maniac's fever'd brain.

Go! but the fairy spell is o'er,
Its gay delusions charm no more;
No traces of the past remain,
Save only in my throbbing brain.

EDINBURGH, DEC. 19, 1804.

ADELINE.

TO LAURA.

FROM THE FRENCH.

Lo! where the bee, from yonder rose,
Fill'd with sweet plunder flies;
Yet still the flower as warmly glows,
As rich its odours rise.

So, dearest, by my ardent kiss

Thy charms unchanged we see ;

Then frown not, since my honied bliss
Has nothing stolen from thee.

R. A. D.

LINES

Written under a Print of Cupid, engraved by Francis Bartolozzi, Esq. R. A.

BY WILLIAM CAREY, ESQ.

OH, Sov'reign of the willing heart,
By all the subject world obey'd,
Who first inspir'd the Painter's art,
And taught the fond Corinthian Maid,

"Tis thine to wake the sweet desire,
And bid the torch of Hymen glow;

To thee the pencil and the lyre

The fairest dreams of Fancy owe.

Then grant, oh grant, propitious Boy,
The beauteous Delia to my arms;
No more delay the bridal joy,

But yield to love her virgin charms.

For this, a fragrant myrtle wreathe
Around my grateful brows I'll twine;
And hallow'd strains of rapture breathe,
In soft devotion, o'er thy shrine.

THE INFLUENCE OF AFFECTION.

To Nature's wild regions fond Love has assigned
A meaning that favors the bent of the mind,
And a Zephyr, an Echo, a Flow'ret, or Stream,
Are made the Allies of the VOTARY'S dream.

The drops which at eve the CARNATION receives,
Its scent to renew, and to freshen its leaves,
Seem shed of the night-roving SUN to complain,
And are tears that invoke his bright presence again.

W. P.

TO DELIA.

WHEN SLEEP upon my brow alights,
It leaves me still unblest:
Around me throng ill-boding Sprites,
The mockeries of rest.

O DELIA, in the midnight Dream,
With all the constancy of day,
Thy image is my fancy's theme,
And still thy frowns dismay!