She Beat her milk-white breast
Where the young god was laid
And at his vigil feast
Of me her captive made.

If thus she'll mourn for me
I will no longer stay,
Adonis, let's to sea
And hasten on death's way.

In the leafless sycamore
Lo! a winter nest.
Round it all the ceaseless roar
Of the storm's unrest.
Here love's palace once was seen
Swinging to the breeze,
Roofed and guarded by the green,
Full of melodies.
Here the sunset loved to rest,
Smiling on the thrush's nest.

In yon London attic room
Once a painter wrought;
All our dense November gloom
Darkened not his thought.
Woman's love was here as well;
Woman's loving eyes
Met the painter's when they fell
From the pictured skies.
Love forsook his fiery quest,

Happy is he, who fears the Lord,
And follows his commands;
Who lends the poor without reward,
Or gives with lib'ral hands.

As pity dwells within his breast
To all the sons of need;
So God shall answer his request,
With blessings on his seed.

No evil tidings shall surprise
His well-establish'd mind;
His soul to God, his refuge, flies,
And leaves his fears behind.

In times of wide and sore distress,
Some beams of light shall shine,
To show the world his righteousness,
And give him peace divine.

FOR THE CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION OF HARVARD COLLEGE , 1836

When the Puritans came over
Our hills and swamps to clear,
The woods were full of catamounts,
And Indians red as deer,
With tomahawks and scalping-knives,
That make folks' heads look queer;
Oh the ship from England used to bring
A hundred wigs a year!

The crows came cawing through the air
To pluck the Pilgrims' corn,
The bears came snuffing round the door

Dear Moon that on true lovers shine,
And thou my faithful mandoline,
Ye stars with radiance bright,
And thou, dear night,

Shall I this eve my wanton see
As once upon the couch with me,
When 'neath the lamp's clear ray
We sleepless lay?

But if another shares her bed
I'll come with suppliant wreaths instead,
Which at her doorway set
With tears I'll wet.

And these the words I'll write above —
" From Meleager, priest of love,
These shall an offering be,
Cypris, to thee."

ON HER NOT DANCING . 1743.

Whilst round in wild rotations hurl'd,
These glittering forms I view,
Methinks the busy restless world
Is pictured in a few.

So may the busy world advance,
Since thus the Fates decree:
It still may have its busy dance,
Whilst I retire with thee.

Long are the hours, the storm winds blow,
Night passes ere the Pleiads set,
But still before her door I go
With driving rain all wet.

This is not love, this torturing smart,
These arrows forged in flaming fire;
I know her false, but yet my heart
Still burns with mad desire.

When man grows bold in sin,
My heart within me cries,—
“He hath no faith of God within,
Nor fear before his eyes.”

He walks awhile conceal'd
In a self-flatt'ring dream,
Till his dark crimes, at once reveal'd,
Expose his hateful name.

His heart is false and foul,
His words are smooth and fair;
Wisdom is banish'd from his soul,
And leaves no goodness there.

He plots upon his bed
New mischiefs to fulfil;
He sets his heart, his hand and head,
To practise all that's ill.

But there's a dreadful God,

TO THE TRAGEDY OF CLEONE.

Well, Ladies — so much for the tragic style —
And now the custom is to make you smile.
To make us smile! — methinks I hear you say —
Why, who can help it, at so strange a play?
The captain gone three years! — and then to blame
The faultless conduct of his virtuous dame!
My stars! what gentle belle would think it treason,
When thus provoked, to give the brute some reason?
Out of my house! — this night, forsooth, depart!
A modern wife had said — " With all my heart —

When Pharaoh dar'd to vex the saints,
And thus provok'd their God,
Moses was sent at their complaints,
Arm'd with his dreadful rod.

He call'd for darkness — darkness came,
Like an o'erwhelming flood;
He made each lake, and ev'ry stream,
A lake, a stream of blood.

He gave the sign — and noisome flies
Through the whole country spread;
And frogs in croaking armies, rise
About the monarch's bed.

Through fields, and towns, and palaces,
The ten-fold vengeance flew:
Locusts in swarms devour'd their trees,