English

Let other youths dissolve in am'rous fires,
And breathe in melting lays their soft desires;
With songs of wit, and sonnets void of care,
Gay as their hopes, and as their hearts sincere;
To spotless charms unfading trophies raise,
Of real love and undissembled praise:
Be theirs the blessings which they pant to prove,
The garland gather'd from the myrtle grove;
The gracious glance of condescending maids;
Love long to last, and fame that never fades:
For them may Venus light the genial bed,
By hallow'd Hymen honourable made;

Gray twilight had begun her dusky reign,
Veiling the glories of the vernal year;
The meads, the groves, the glades, and glitt'ring lawns,
One dark-brown scene of dun disorder lay:
When from the village, his frequented walk,
Pensive and slow, the youthful D AMON stray'd,
Along the windings of his native stream;
Whose drowsy wave, with closing willows crown'd,
Flow'd lazy, murm'ring thro' the misty vale.

His downcast visage, clouded, pale, and wan,
Confess'd a bosom pierc'd with pining woe;

I.

Say, what is life? A bubble and a dream;
 A bulrush shaken by the northern blast;
The broken surface of a troubled stream;
 A joyless journey in a barren waste:
(Hope's cheating meteor hangs on the extreme,
 Decoys us forward, and misleads at last).
Blessed, I ween, the fav'rite happy sew,
Who get the easiest and the soonest thro'!

II.

Say, what is virtue?—'Tis a faithful friend;
 “A friend that sticketh closer than a brother;”
When life, and time, and vanity shall end,

Untimely death too oft attends the brave;
“The path of glory leads unto the grave.”
Too oft, when war's alarming din is o'er,
Want waits the hero on his natal shore;
And what's more dreadful to a gen'rous mind,
Scorn, from the basest, meanest of mankind:
But kinder fates, (and kinder fates are due,)
O, ever-honour'd W! distinguish you;
The laurels reap'd by G ANGES ' sacred flow,
In all their verdure still adorn your brow;
Respect and Plenty former labours crown,
And Envy mutters, They are fairly won.

Dear, lovely Sylvia ! fairest of the fair;
Pride of my muse, and object of my care!
Propitious hear; nor, blooming maid! complain,
To find unequal to your praise my strain.
With ease I paint the mazy prattling rill,
The woods and tow'rs that crown the craggy hill;
The various blossoms that adorn the spring;
But Sylvia 's charms what raptur'd youth can sing?
What straining bard exalt his daring aim,
In just proportion to his lovely theme?
Your beauties crowd — which first shall grace my song,

( " J'aime a me figurer. " )

I love to watch in fancy, to some soft dreamy strain
A choir of lovely virgins issuing angel-calm,
Veiled all in white, at even, from some old shadowy fane;
In hand — a palm!

A dream which in my darkest hours doth aye beguile
Is this: a group of children, ere they seek repose,
Merrily dancing; on each rosebud mouth a smile,
Each brow — a rose!

Haply a dream yet sweeter, that yields yet more delight,

THE FIRST VISIOUN .

Before my face, this night, to me appeir'd
My silent Muse in sorow all confound;
And, [all] dismay'd, this question at me speir'd;
" Quhy do we not his glorious praise resound?
" Quhose goodnes we beyond our hope hes found:
" Quhose favour hes surmounted our desert:
" And, as he dois in pouir maist abound,
" So to our ayd the same he dois convert".
" O Muse " , quod I, " even with a willing hairt
" I sall fulfill this chairge with bent desyre;

( " La nuit morne tombait. " )

On ocean mournful, vast, fell the vast mournful night.
The darkling wind awoke, and urged to hurried flight,
Athwart the granite-crags, above the granite-crests,
Some sails unto their haven, some birds unto their nests.

Sad unto death, I gazed on all the world around.
Oh! how yon sea is vast and the soul of man profound!

Afar St. Michael towered, the wan salt waves amid,
Huge Cheops of the west, the ocean-pyramid.

On Egypt, home of fathomless mysteries, did I brood,

Loe heir tuo wights inburied be, of nobil birth and blude,
Quho, by thair death, hes nature's course by nature's lyne conclude.
In mariage band they lived long; (thrie scoir of yeirs, and foure.)
In honour, maist contentedlye, thair lyfe they did dryve oure.
Bot now hes DEATH thair aged dayes desaced by his dairt:
And hes thair brethles weryet corps, convoyed to this pairt.
Bot yit quhat DEATH hes preast to doe, thair love so to devyde
Love hes againe, surmounting DEATH , the force of DEATH defy'd.

Your predicessours' prayse, and prowes hie;
Thair hardie hairts, hawtie, heroicall,
Of dew desert deservis never to die;
Bot to be pen'd, and plac'd as principall,
And metest, mirrour of manheid martiall:
Unto thair lyne and linage to give licht.
Of quhom ye come: quhose ofspring yow to call
Ye merit weill, resembling thame so richt.
Thoch thay wer manfull men of mekil micht,
Thair douchtie deids in yow hes not decayit.
Ye, wittie, wyse, and valyeant, warriour wicht!
Hes with the pen the poet's pairt weill playit: