Ah, virtuous Bard! how sadly-silent lies
Thy tuneful tongue, that, with melodious sound,
Sung GOD's amazing works — the lofty skies
With glory beaming — earth with beauty crown'd.

Tho' here thy mortal part, in humble dust,
Lies underneath this sacred roof, interr'd;
Thy happy soul, united to the just,
Meets the reward thy wish to fame preferr'd.

The brazen tablet, a memorial here,
May moulder; but thy name shall never die:
For, in thy works, to Truth and Genius dear,
Shine, love to man, and love to GOD most high.

( " La pauvre fleur disait. " )

The humble flower bespake the heavenly butterfly:
" Flee no more!
See how our fates are diverse. Fixed to earth am I,
Thou canst soar!

" Yet the same breath of love is ours; from men afar
Both are fain
To dwell; so like we be, 'tis soothly said we are
Flowerets twain.

" But ah! the air uplifts thee, while the earth still doth hold me:
Fortune's spite!

Elegy on Seduction .

Like some sweet rose, by blighting winds assail'd,
Unhappy Nancy's living beauties fade;
Her treach'rous lover o'er her heart prevail'd —
His wiles her virgin innocence betray'd.

Retir'd she sits, absorb'd in speechless woe,
Whilst lucid tears o'erflow her beauteous eyes;
Down her pale cheeks the drops of sorrow flow,
On her fair bosom, swell'd with Mis'ry's sighs.

War! dreadful scourge of Man, appears,
To fill the virgin's eyes with tears,
For her dear youth, untimely slain;
To fill with grief the widow's breast,
Whose warlike husband's relics rest
Beneath the blood-polluted plain.

O! see, engag'd in conflict dire,
Involv'd in sulph'rous smoak and fire,
The hostile armies shake the ground;
The storm of Death, tremendous, pours
Swift balls, and the artill'ry roars,
Like awful Thunder's grating sound.

See yonder stately city storm'd,
There, the besieg'd, with fury warm'd,

Tho' Greece boasts Socrates, and Cæsar, Rome;
Carthage, her Hannibal's immortal name;
The realms of Albion does a star illume
Great as the greatest, and not less in fame.

Athens' Demosthenes, ne'er glow'd with zeal
More patriotic in a nation's cause,
Or Philip reign in Macedonian weal,
More lov'd or honour'd, by a world's applause.

Then him the theme of Calliope's verse,
Oppression's terror, and the public's choice;
Whose worth historians shall with pride rehearse,
And hail the patriot with a gen'ral voice!

Youth and Old Age went out one day,
Upon a stroll together,
But had not long began to stray,
Ere heaven changed the weather.
So, swift they knock'd at Friendship's gate,
And she came out that minute,
And hop'd she had not made them wait;
But Love, who was within it,
Had long been trying to persuade
A girl of beauteous feature,
That Love and Friendship could not fade,
And were the self-same creature.

The girl saw Age as he came in,
And fearing he might scorn her,
Plac'd Love her apron folds within,

" To soften woe and soothe the savage breast, "
Come! lovely Crouch, with each bewitching charm;
Lull by sweet Harmony, Despair to rest,
And ev'ry wild tumultuous passion calm.

Come! thou enchantress of inspiring song,
And sweetly chaunt thy fascinating lays;
With Sappho's art thy dulcet strains prolong;
And rob Apollo of his envied bays.

Could but the Artist paint thy beauteous form,
With half the graces Alton does possess;
The canvas would each frozen bosom warm,
And e'en Detraction urge to love thee less.

AN ODE .

The Christian Faith, like well-tried gold,
More pure and excellent appears,
When impious men, perversely bold,
Would fill our minds with doubts and fears;
Their carnal lusts obscure the ray
That Heaven gave to light the way
To endless Rectitude and Peace:

Who shall gain the maiden's love?
For so lovely are her eyes,
And so lovely are her eyes,
Who shall have them for a prize!

As a hawk's, her eyes no less
Than flowers are in loveliness,
But how may he bear their stress
Who in their fair bondage lies?
For so lovely are her eyes,
Who shall have them for a prize!

For her eyes, that clear and fair
As a royal eagle's are,
Turn the living to despair,
And the dead are racked with sighs.
For so lovely are her eyes,
Who shall have them for a prize!

A BALLAD .

Adorn'd with many a pleasing art,
And deck'd with graceful air,
Sir Eldred won each female heart,
And reign'd in triumph there!

With native elegance endow'd,
And eye of matchless pow'r,
He charm'd the gentle and the proud,
And cheer'd the social hour:

But sorrow in his inmost soul
Had fix'd its ebon throne,
Another's grief he cou'd controul,