English

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,

Alas! alas! I see each day
Steals me from myself away;
And ev'ry step of life I tread,
I speed to mingle with the dead.
How many years are past, my friends,
I know, and there my knowledge ends:
How many years are still in store,
I neither can, nor would explore.
Then, since the hours incessant fly,
They all shall find me crown'd with joy.
To those, my cares I here bequeath,
Who meanly die for fear of death,
And daily with assiduous strife
Contrive to live, accurs'd with life.

" This Ring, this little Ring, " as spoke by Wells,
Brings Siddons' voice and manner so to view,
That e'en the copiest many a bosom swells,
With grief as potent, and as real too.

Exquisite charmer! Sorceress of delight!
Unrivall'd Wells assert thy magic force;
Go on, and please the wond'ring throngs each night,
And draw down plaudits from their secret source!

Surprise the town with Imitations new,

TO HIS MISTRESS.

The gods o'er mortals prove their sway,
 And steal them from thernselves away;
Transform'd by their almighty hand,
Sad Niobe an image stands;
And Philomel, upborne on wings,
Thro' air her mournful story sings.
 Would heav'n, indulgent to my vow,
The happy change I wish, allow;
The envy'd mirror I would be,
That thou might'st always gaze on me;
And could my naked heart appear,
Thou'dst see thyself—for thou art there.
O! were I made thy folding vest,

Thou sweetest creature of thy kind,
Complacent, gentle, and refin'd!
How wou'd thy brethren of the wood,
Amaz'd and motionless have stood,
To see thee unconcern'd and free,
As when they hop from tree to tree!
With envy too they might have pin'd,
And ev'n sweet Liberty resign'd;
A Squirrel might have wish'd thy chain,
So soft a slav'ry to obtain:
Where no caprice or humour dwells,
A favourite's happiness excells.
What H ARRIET priz'd was surely blest,
For gentle kindness warm'd her breast;

Thou gentle Orb! whose mild benignant light,
Softens the gloomy empire of the Night,
As Mercy decks the face of rigid pow'r!—
Oh thou! that rul'st soft Contemplation's hour,
Soothing each boist'rous passion into rest,
While Nature glimmers by thy spangled vest;
To thee, sweet Moon! has oft the wretch complain'd,
And oft the silent tear has been explain'd.
Forsaken by the world—forbid to die!
On thee Affliction turns its mournful eye;
The heart exhibits all its secret store,
And many a fatal wound is counted o'er,

Fain wou'd I court my weary muse,
Some portion of my debt to pay;
Perchance, the candour may excuse,
Which whilom has inspir'd my lay!

Oh thou! for whom fair Fancy's hand
The rosy chaplet shall decree,
For whom those precious flow'rs expand,
Which bloom more faint, perhaps for me!

L UCIUS ! 'tis strange thou shou'dst not please!
Such flatt'ring verses who can bear?
Not she, who trembling, now foresees
The terrors of a rival there.

Then how shall verse my thanks explain?

When Neptune in sorrow, gave up to despair,
On losing his Venus, who 'scap'd from his care;
The Nereides in pity assembl'd around,
And water'd with tears the sea-moisten'd ground.

The god much afflicted to see them distress'd;
In tenderness thus his Nereides address'd —
" Fly quick unto earth, if you'd lessen my grief,
" And bring from my Britons a speedy relief. "

The nymphs, in obedience immediately flew,
And soon recogniz'd their preservers in you.
Ten thousand young tars they with rapture decry'd,