For the MASSACHUSETTS MAGAZINE. MACAULEY'S URN. Occafioned by the death of that elegant and accomplished Authores, Mrs. ČATHARINE MACAULEY GRAHAM,

WHY the plain?

HY fighs the blushing plough boy of

Why weeps the druid of the lonely cave? Why pipe the lads flow melancholy ftrains? Why mourns the turtle cooing on the grave?

Do fongs of joy no more awake the lyre? Where thepherd's is your mufick's fprightly round? [spire ? Can't fmiling fummer one glad note inNor mirth call echo from her hollow ground?

Why afks the mufe? these forrows are her own, gloom : Her laughing eyes now beam a funeral She weeps with pity on her moffy ftone; And mourns Macauley in her narrow tomb.

E'en there, fair learning, fhalt thy fav'rite

name;

And drop the tear on her hiftorick page,

The foft intruder that embalms her fame.

What though proud Albion to her mem'ry raife, [views; Some monument which the pleas'd gazer Yet the low urn, with humble flow'rets grac'd, mufe. Would beft Macauley fuit, and beft the Her mofs form'd grave shall be the lone retreat,

For the meek fighing heart of fofteft woes; There contemplation kind shall hold her feat, [rofe.

And the white lily pale-and blush the When dufky ev'ning dawns upon his cave, The man of forrow there fhall often ftray; [lay, Whilft from the willow's heard the raven's And fleepy zephyr whifpers to the wave.

The ftoick fage fhall vifit at her urn, Though fummer fmile or winter frown fevere ;

For there the iron heart shall learn to mourn; And filent fall the philofophick tear. There birds of eve fhall tune their notes to love,

On the cold urn the ev'ning long fhall fing; And Philomela's ftrains flow fill the grove, And charm the fylphs who choiceit tributes bring.

No ftalking ghoft fhall ever haunt the fhade;

No bird of prey, nor owl of hideous fcream, [laid; Shall difmal mark the fpot where the is But plaintive mufick Iwell the moving

theme.

For the MASSACHUSETTS MAGAZINE. MONIMBA: A TRUE STORY.

M°

ONIMBA, pride of Afric's plain, The beauty of the burning zone, Was led to Hymen's holy tane,

By Zanga, prince of Ebo's throne.

Six moons revolving faw them bleft;

The feventh, a life commercial band, Lodg'd the cragg'd ball in Zanga's breaft, And fever'd love's united hand. In vain the widow's piteous wail;

Nor heard her foul diftreffing cries; Borne paffive on the pinnion'd gale, To diftant climes the mourner hies. There doom'd to rounds of endless toil, Her life was foon to waste away, On curft Port Royal's torrid foil, Amid the fires of blazing day. Her child-the tender babe unborn, Muft fhare its mother's iron fate : Doom'd ere it faw the rifing morn, To horrid flav'ry's death like weight. Monimba, own'd a feeling mind; Oft had the wept at mis'ry's tale;

The

The tender heart by love refin'd,
With firmnefs bids misfortune, hail.
Confin'd below in bolted chains,

Deep mufing o'er a world of woes,
The fudden gufh of fpouting veins,

At once anonounce parturient throes. Rais'd to the deck-fhe ey'd the wave,

Plung'd with her babe beneath the flood, And buried in a watry grave,

Efcap'd the madd'ning fons of blood. BELINDA.

For the MASSACHUSETTS MAGAZINE.

ELEGIACK LINE S.

In memory of a young Lady, who was killed by a fall from a borje.

F

ORBEAR, my friend, fince Celia is no more;

Why will you thus increafe my pain? Why will you thus rehearle my forrows o'er ?

Why will you thus confole in vain ?

Deep in the filent tomb my fair one lies,
While here I live by her forgot;
Can he be deaf to all my tender fighs?
But Celia's dead, and fighs are naught.
The bleffed Celia's number'd with the dead,
Her deeds fhall charm the world no more:
With each divine and godlike grace has fied
What e'er could blefs fair Ga's fhore.
Th' extenfive wifdom, that adorn'd her
mind,

And fpread a luftre o'er her mien,
Difplay'd a temper elegantly kind,
A confcience good, and foul ferene.
Oft, as he heard the widow's plaintive tale,
Or view'd the helpless orphan's woe,
Within her breaft foft pity would prevail
To give to thofe, fhe did not know.
Often I've seen Aurora's golden ray,
E're it had ting'd the western main,
Doat on a flower that deck'd the vernal

May,

And call its beauties from the plain.
But hark! What groans convulfe that love-

ly grove,

Where the fo oft the dance has led ?

Thine the unconquered breast, the conquer

ing bow,

And prophecy divine! confuming all,
And all producing, all commanding, aiding!
By thee repofe the human world enjoys,
And genial peace by thee-of inborn might
Unwearied, unfubdued. By thee the earth
Bears her best bieffings, for the firft of men
By thee the bore them. Thy unchanging
power
[night,
Leads the fair morning, leads the mantled
And twelve long toils fuftains, from Eaft to
Weft

Extending. Friend of mortals and immor-
tals,
[the rofe
Bring thy bleft aid; thy hand that flings
O'er the pale cheek of fickness-thy kind
[far,
That bears the healing branch. O let it
Far from the haunts of human life remove
Adverfity and pain !—

hand

GEORGIENSIS.

The name of goddeffes of stream or

grove;

A fhining inftrument each feamstress owns ;
A bleffing feldom found near royal thrones.
Then take the juftly celebrated name,
Of Ithaca's wife lord's illuftrious dame;
The fields where pious fouls in endless life,
Enjoy eternal pleasures free from strife;
The name of conduct generous and fair;
The fplendid robes that kings and nobles

Ε

TERNAL God, at thy command
The varied feafons roll;

Thy hand unfeen

Guides the world's great machine,
And rules from pole to pole.

Sun, moon, and stars thy glorious will
Hafte in their courfes to fulfil,

And wheel their orbs around;
Darkness and day
Thy word obey,
Yield to thy hand
In every land,

And own their deftin'd bound.

Wake every foul,
With adoration fing;
All meaner views control,

And praise the eternal king.
Ye nations, wake, and with fubmiffion own,
That heaven's great fovereign rules the
world alone.

He fpeaks; the tempefts howl around; The murmuring north wind fweeps the ground;

Old ocean foams, the angry billows roar, Dafh on the rocks, in ruin whelm the fhore.

He fpeaks again; how bright the scene, 'Tis all a calm; 'tis all ferene.

Huft every gale,

Sweet peace the fcepter fways;
Sol fhoots o'er hill and dale
His nature cheering rays.

Great are thy works, eternal power,
We look, we tremble, we adore.
The fecret fprings, that move the foul,
Submiflive, yield to thy control,

Nor can withstand thy fway;
But flack thy hand,
War waftes the land;
Confufion reigns ;

Death fweeps the plains,
And fwells with gore the fea.

Pale famine fmites; the bloom of nature

dies;

[lies.

The world's wide empire whelm'd in ruin

575

Joy beams around With glory crown'd Sweet harmony defcends; To this low earth her course the bends, From thining realms above, Becomes a guest

In every breaft,

And tunes the foul to love. Eternal God, thy glorious name

Demands our warmeft praife, While angels fing thy boundleís fame We join our humble lays.

Thy hand alone fuftains the world; Thy hand withdrawn, in ruin huri'd The rolling fpheres of nature's glorious frame

Vanish, like fparkles, in a general flame.

One glance from thee, the world renews; Chaos retires; new heavens arife, Suns blaze again, again expand the fkies; And peace, eternal peace, enfues. ZURICS

For the MASSACHUSETTS MAGAZINE. The UNFORTUNATE FAIR.

THE

HE fun has funk, the glimm'ring stars appear, [earth. And the pale moon fhines faintly on the Yet, as if grudging me their feeble rays, The only guide my doubtful footsteps have, She's juft immerging in a blacker cloud; From whence no light can come, to cheer my foul.

Oh! whither fhall I go! friendless, forlorn,
A wretched exile from the focial world;
No place have I to reft thefe weary limbs,
No pillow to fupport this drooping head,
No helter but the cold, inclement sky.
Ah whither fhall I go? before me far
Extends a dreary wafte, over whofe bleak
Domain, rifes no hofpitable cot,

To lure me onward with inviting doors:
Here lies a foreft, whofe deep fullen gloom
Seems a fit felter for the favage beafts,
Whofe horrid roarings fill my foul with
dread,

And half congeal the vital fource of life.
Whither, ah whither fhall I go? darkness
Increases, no human traces can I find,
Vaft, hideous fpectres dance around me.
Protect me,
ye gentle powers, who make
Diftrefs your care, for fure there ne'ez

exists

An object more unfortunate, or more
In need of clemency divine than I.
Bred in the gayer fcenes of affluence,
Attended, courted, flatter'd and admir'd,
My halcyon days pafs'd fwiftly on-I
Knew nor want nor woe, or ever thought
that

Mifery was my lot.-O my lov'd parents!
Tender protectors of my infant years;
Could you, now fee the wretched loft Opbe
lia,
[but ah!
She, who was late your pride and joy..
Ye,

full

Happy, having such a friend, to be the
Guardian of my future days. How did
He foothe the anguish of my bursting heart,
Calling himself friend, father, all the fond
Endearing names that av'rice could fuggeft,
Or luft infpire. Not long he wore the mask,
Soon all the villain in his form appear'd.
Where are your prayers, ye patrons of my
youth?
[unjuft?
Were they not heard? or are the heavens
Forgive, the impious thought! Omnifcient
Judge,
[cate;
Thy ways are right, tho' dark and intri-
With refignation to my fate I bow.
Thus fpake the wanderer; and fat herself
Upon the turf, to wait the approach of

Come then, fweet peace, man's firft, man's laft, best friend!

This awful waste of human life reftrain: 'Tis God's own image dyes the crimson'd plain : [trophies rend. Hafte, virgin queen! from war his curfed A. B.

For the MASSACHUSETTS MAGAZINE. HORACE, Book I, ODE XXXVIII.

of white,

Brown olive, copper dark, or ebon ftain, And ev'ry variant dye on nature's coin, Stamp'd with God's image at the mint divine, [fons of Cain. Are own'd for his lov'd offspring--not as Well haft thou done--th' applaufive choreal ftrain,

Of myriads yet unborn on Afric's plain, Shall chaunt thy godlike name with fond

delight; And as they kneel at bleft religion's fhrine, The figh of gratitude, forever thine,

Shall waft one prayer to realms unutterably bright: [ciful, the good, 'Tis this-- Oh fave from death, the merPoor Afric's angel friend--the fcourge of trade in blood."

For the MASSACHUSETTS MAGAZINE.

For the MASSACHUSETTS MAGAZINE.
The INVOCATION.

COME! fair Hebe, goddefs come,
Thy charms once more impart,

Bid age recede, bid pain be dumb,
With pleasure warm my heart.

Roll back thofe years, when tides of joy,
And flowers each vernal day,
Flow'd undisturb'd without alloy,
And ftrew'd with fweets my way.

When erft beneath yon rural grove,
fang in cheerful trains,

Of Damon's friendship, Delia's love;
Of flocks and verdant plains.

'Twas then content my moments crown'd;
No change of ftate I fought;
No fears but thofe of love I found,
Fears! that new rapture brought.
Hear then, fair Hebe, goddess hear;
Extend to me thy pow'r,
Bid those bleft days again appear,
When joy fhall crown each hour.
CLEON
Vol. III. Sept. 1791.

G

577

For the MASSACHUSETTS MAGAZINE.

DISAPPOINTMENT.

LYSANDER, happy paft the common

Was warn'd of danger; but too gay to fear, He woo'd the fair Afpafia; he was kind; In youth, form, fortune, fame, they both were bleft;

All who knew, envy'd; yet in envy lov'd;
Can fancy form more finish'd happines?
Fix'd was the nuptial hour; her ftately
dome
[fpires
Rofe on the founding beach; the glittering
Float in the wave, and break against the
fhore ;
[joys!
So break thofe glittering fhadows, human
The faithlefs morning fmil'd; he took his
leave,

To reembrace, in exftacies, at eve.
The rifing ftorm forbids. The news ar

rives;

Untold, the faw it in her fervant's eye.
She felt it (fure her heart was apt to feel)
And, drown'd, without the furious ocean's
aid,

In fuffocating forrow, fhares his tomb.
Now round the fumptuous, bridal monu

ment,

The guilty billows innocently roar ;
And the rough failor paffing, drops a tear.

AUTUM N.

-Sylvis Aquilo decuffit bonorem,

IS autumn's wane; how mute's the

'TIS grove,

How naked ev'ry fpray!

No covert yielding to the dove,
Nor plaintive with her lay.

Erewhile, with verdant foliage crown'd,
How vivid was its hue !.

And how the trees and fhrubs around
Their rich luxuriance threw.

'Tis paft their recent honours flown,
Umbrageous wave no more;
Difcolour'd low on earth is strewn
The liv'ry late they wore.
Incumbent o'er the leaflefs woods,
And unfrequented plains,

A moping melancholy broods,
A fullen fadnefs reigns.

Dank