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The cup was all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet,

And it seem'd to a fanciful vicw,
To weep for the buds it had left with regret,

On the flourishing bush where it grew
I hastily seiz'd it, unfit as it was

For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd,
And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas!

I snapp'd it—it fell to the ground.
And such, I exclaim'd, is the pitiless part

Some act by the delicate mind,
Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart

Already to sorrow resign'd.
This elegant rose, had I shaken it less,

Might have bloom'd with its owner a whilo ;
And the tear that is wip'd with a little address,

May be follow'd perhaps by a smile

THE DOVES.

I.
REASONING at ev'ry step hc treads,

Man yet mistakes his way,
While meaner things, whom instinct lcads,
Are rarely known to stray.

II.
One silent eve I wander'd late,

And heard the voice of love :
The turtle thus address'd her mate,

And sooth'd the list’ning dove •

III.
Our mutual bond of faith and truth,

No time shall disengage,
Those blessings of our early youth
Shall cheer our latest age :

IV.
While innocence without disguise,

And constancy sincere,
Shall fill the circles of those eyes,

And mine can read them there.

V.

Those ills that wait on all below,

Shall ne'er be felt by me, Or gently felt, and only so, As being shar'd with thee.

VI.
When lightnings flash among the trees,

Or kites are hov'ring near,
I fear lest thee alone they seize,
And know no other fear.

VII.
"Tis then I feel myself a wife,

And press thy wedded side,
Resolv'd a union form'd for life,
Death never shall divide.

VIII.
But oh! if fickle and unchaste,

(Forgive a transient thought,) Thou could become unkind at last, And scorn thy present lot,

IX.
No need of lightnings from on high,

Or kites with cruel beak;
Denied th' endearments of thine eye,

This widow'd heart would break
VOL. I.

17

X.
Thus sang the sweet sequester'd bird,

Soft as the passing wind,
And I recorded what I heard,

A lesson for mankind.

A FABLE.

A RAVEN, while with glossy breast
Her new-laid eggs she fondly press'd,
And, on her wicker work high mounted,
Her chickens prematurely counted,
(A fault philosophers might blame
If quite exempted from the same,)
Enjoy'd at ease the genial day ;
'Twas April, as the bumpkins say,
The legislature call'd it May.
But suddenly a wind as high
As ever swept a winter sky,
Shook the young leaves about her ears,
And fill'd her with a thousand fears,
Lest the rude blast should snap the bough,
And spread her golden hopes below.
But just at eve the blowing weather,
And all her fears were hush'd together :
And
quoth poor

unthinking Ralph, 'T'is over, and the brood is safe ; (For ravens, though as birds of omen They teach both conj’rers and old women, To tell us what is to befall, Can't prophesy themselves at all ;) The morning came, wlien neighbour Hodge Who long had mark'd her airy lodge,

now,

And destin'd all the treasure there
A gift to his expecting fair,
Climb'd like a squirrel to his dray,
And bore the worthless prize away

MORAL.

"Tis Providenco alone secures
In ev'ry change both mine and yours
Safety consists not in escape
From dangers of a frightful shape;
An earthquako may be bid to spare
The man that's strangled by a hair.
Fate steals along with silent tread,
Found oft'ncst in what least wo dread,
Frowns in the storm with angry brow,
But in tho sunshine strikes the blow.

A COMPARISON.

THE lapse of time and rivers is the same,
Both specd thcir journey with a restless stream
Tho silent pace with which they steal away,
No wcalth can bribe, no pray’rs persuado to stay
Alike irrevocable both when past,
And a wide ocean swallows both at last.
Though each resemble each in ev'ry part,
A diff'sence strikes at length the musing hcart ;

Strcams never flow in vain; where streams abound, ✓ How laughs the land with various plenty crown'd'

But time, that should enrich the nobler mind,
Negl leaves a dreary waste behind.

ANOTHER.

ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.

SWEET stream, that winds through yonder glade, Apt emblem of a virtuous maid Silent and chaste she steals along, Far from the world's gay busy throng; With gentle, yet prevailing force, Intent upon her destin'd course; Graceful and useful all she does, Blessing and bless'd where'er she goes, Pure-bosom’d as that wat’ry glass, And Heav'n reflected in her face.

THE

POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.

TO MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON.

MARIA! I have ev'ry good

For thee wish'd many a time,
Both sad and in a cheerful mood,

But never yet in rhyme.

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