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I thought that GRANDEUR with a lib'ral land.
Could strew my path of life with sweetest flow'rs;
And from his pinions pluck his whitest hours.
Constant in MEM'Ry's eye her form appears--
Where'er I tread, a source of woe I find;
And hear her sigh in ev'ry passing wind.
Wlat now remains, my horrors to beguile?
Away, ye dreams of grandeur, wealth, away!
Nor bribe a single moment to be gay.
· THE RELIC;
BY PETER PINDAR, ESQ.
Supposed to be spoken by a LADY, on receiving a lock of
the Duke D'ENGHIEN's hair, which he desired to be cut off and presented to her after his execution.—To this Lady, report says, the Duke was very soon to have been married.
DEAR Relic, to me, ah! divine!
O welcome, no more to depart ; On this bosom of sorrow recline,
Thy presence will soothe my poor heart
Thou wilt hear the complaint of fond Love,
And pity the rigour of FATE;
Lamenting the loss of her mate.
So pure of our pleasures the spring,
We rivall’d the ages of old, ', Time brought not a care on his wing,
For his moments were moments of gold.
oments were momen
Near my heart, thou, rich Relic ! shalt lie,
While I wander life's valley of gloom ; And when thy Companion shall die,
We will join in the sleep of the Tomb.
C. SPILSBURY, PRINTER, ANGEL-COURT, SNOWNIL.