WRITTEN IN SICKNESS .

In vain, sweet Sleep! I supplicate thine aid,
Image of Death, in mildest form array'd;
Oh! grant thy healing grace and soothing pow'r,
May balmy blessings on my senses show'r.
Rack'd on the Wheel of Fancy, Reason dies,
And Hope, suspended, seems a dubious prize.
But art thou still inflexible, severe,
Deaf to complaint, and blind to Virtue's tear?
Oh! deign to strengthen, and in quiet keep,
My various faculties, sweet gentle Sleep;
That not exhausted, but refresh'd they prove,

Ah whither art thou fled, companion dear?
To what sequester'd vale dost bend thy way?
Will the deep sigh, or Friendship's pearly tear,
Excite thy pity, or protract thy stay?

These artless lays imperfectly express
The tender bodings of an heart sincere;
But ill can paint the feelings of distress,
Or speak the anguish of awaken'd fear.

In search of Happiness, say, dost thou roam,
And distant realms in quest of Peace explore?
Alas my friend! she is but found at home,
Our mind's the mansions of her boundless store.

And are you too in pain and do your eyes
Burn with the tears that all unbidden rise?
Or do you lie in slumber soft and deep
And of my love nor thought nor reckoning keep?
Ah, my Philinna, you will suffer yet
And I shall see your cheeks with teardrops wet.
Venus is cruel, but she knoweth how
Beneath her wrath to make a proud maid bow.

If Love had lost his shafts, and Jove down threw
His thunder-bolts, or spent his forked fire,
They only might recovered be anew
From out my heart, cross-wounded with desire.
Or if debate by Mars were lost a space,
It might be found within the self-same place.

If Neptune's waves were all dried up and gone,
My weeping eyes so many tears distill,
That greater seas might grow by them alone:
Or if no flame were yet remaining still
In Vulcan's forge, he might from out my breast
Make choice of such as should befit him best.

The Garden's sweet, luxuriant grace,
Proclaims our Maker's pow'r;
His Wisdom we can clearly trace
In ev'ry Herb and Flow'r.

The modest Lily, fragrant Rose,
And Plants of varied dye;
Our frail mortality disclose,
To each observing eye.

In these, vain man, behold thy state,
The pride of Life survey;
See the sad image of thy fate,
To bloom, and then decay.

In Spring thy under blossoms shoot,
In Summer gain their height;
Unless the branches, and the root,
Receive a fatal blight.

Neighbour of the near domain,
Stay awhile your passing wain!
Though to give is more your way,
Take a gift from me to-day!
From my homely store I bring
Signs of my poor husbanding; —
Here a spike of purple phlox,
Here a spicy bunch of stocks,
Mushrooms from my moister fields,
Apples that my orchard yields, —
Nothing, — for the show they make,
Something, — for the donor's sake;
Since for ten years we have been
Best of neighbours ever seen;
We have fronted evil weather,
Nip of critic's frost, together;

Thou Pow'r Omnipotent, supremely just;
Parent of Nature, never failing trust!
Incline thine ear, and graciously impart,
Thy holy dictates to direct my heart:
Enlighten'd by the rays of holy writ,
Implicit I obey, and meek submit;
From clear conviction, that thy wise decrees,
Are ministers of good and future ease.
Thy providential care supplies our need;
What Pow'r but thee, could form, protect, and feed?
Diffusive blessings, Virtue, Peace, and Health,
Are far superior to superfluous wealth:
Wealth, which vain mortals seek, to shun disgrace,

It fell one evening hour
When silence all was keeping,
I stole into the bower
Where Nellie lay asleeping.

She struggled hard to fly,
Her fingers fiercely tearing,
But soon with plaintive cry
She yielded to my daring.

Beneath me close embraced
I held her safe in cover.
Love spurred me on to haste,
And quick the race was over.

" You've had your will," she sobbed,
" And stolen all my treasure:
Next week another robbed
Will weep to make you pleasure."

Love took his seal and in thy breast
The image of me there impressed,
I in my heart thy picture have
Which that same artist did engrave.
Pluto below, the Sun above,
Shall see the witness of my love,
And never, never did I fear
That thou my likeness forth would tear.
So when we to death's judgment come
Thou must endure the traitor's doom.

Again there's a golden haze
On the shadow of Hudson glades;
Again are the leaves ablaze
On the breast of the Palisades;
Again from the loft of the wind-swept stair
We watch how the sea-gulls fly,
And we drink full draughts of the sparkling air
From the deep blue cup of sky.

Look south where the ocean rills,
Look east to the dancing Sound,
Look north to the swelling hills
And the vales of the Neutral Ground!
From the Mart of the Sea where the millions toil
To the heights in the farthest ken