English

White terror beats against the lowering sky,
Then, wheeling wildly down the ocean-roll,
The wistful wonder of a lonely soul
Sinks in the tempest of mortality;
O that the throbbing heart and straining eye
Might surely win—beyond the thunder-toll,
—Beyond the dying stars—a life made whole
Upon the breast of Love that shall not die:

But while we blindly drive from dust to dust
Confounded in the chaos of a night
With death and hell tumultuous everywhere
We cannot hide our hearts in trembling trust

No more, kind Woodfall, shall Louisa send,
Her fictious scrawl to gain a poet's fame;
Know thou her once protector, guardian friend,
The vile impostor now assumes a name.

A name that Conscience bids her blush to own,
Since she, sad jade, could even thee perplex;
But now the harlot abdicates her throne,
And brimstone like, renounces e'en her sex.

Yes, tender name, a fond and last adieu,
Receive my thanks — that oft admirers won;

AN ODE .

O Wisdom! sacred Pow'r, descend,
Propitious, from thy native skies;
Our new Society befriend,
And teach us Virtue's aid to prize:
May true Philosophy impart
It's energy to warm the Heart,
And meliorate the curious mind;
And lofty Poetry inspire
The Soul with Heav'n's informing fire —
A Love for ALL M ANKIND .

This Institution shall encrease,
Like rising Morn's celestial light:
Here Study, blest with placid Peace,
Shall make the Intellect more bright:

To the beauteous resort of the Muses and Fame,
A fair and a gentle petitioner came;
Her beautiful ringlets disorderly flow'd,
And a blush on her cheek most indignantly glow'd:
That eye, whose refulgence once all things might cheer,
Was robb'd of its lustre, and dim'd with a tear;
Yet the radiance of Beauty was mingled with Youth,
And her mirror of chrystal declar'd she was Truth!
" Impatient of wrongs, and reduc'd to distress,
" Behold me! " she cries, " I am come for redress:
" I come, the most injur'd, in anguish and grief,

Clouds and tempests, get ye gone,
Hence, ye mists and every shadow,
Let field, valley, hill, and meadow
Shine with green as erst they shone.
Cold and frost we now may spurn,
Let soft vapours fill the air,
Grass be gay with flowers fair,
Gladness to the crops return;
All after their kind be seen
In their beauty and their brightness,
Flowers in their robe of whiteness,
And the Earth in vestment green,
Stolen away by winter keen.
Blest my triumph, that afar
Now irradiates the sky,
And in equal pleasure vie

O my passion and my grief,
Yet complain not to bereave me
Of thy woe, nor cease nor leave me.
Evermore I sigh and pine
With my sorrowing thoughts intent
That no further pang be sent
Unto this sad heart of mine.
But Love, in his right divine,
Thee commands now not to leave me,
Not to cease and not to leave me.

AN ODE .

In graceful youth the living hues
Of love, angelic bloom diffuse
O'er the fair virgin's face:
True symmetry adorns her form,
There health, with vital spirits warm,
Displays each living grace.

Her mind, like some expanding flow'r,
Grows more accomplish'd ev'ry hour,
By Education's aid;
The social arts that sweeten life,
And grace the mother and the wife,

( " Canaris! nous t'avons oublie. " )

O Canaris! O Canaris! the poet's song
Has blameful left untold thy deeds too long!
But when the tragic actor's part is done,
When clamour ceases, and the fights are won,
When heroes realize what Fate decreed,
When chieftains mark no more which thousands bleed;
When they have shone, as clouded or as bright,
As fitful meteor in the heaven at night,
And when the sycophant no more proclaims
To gaping crowds the glory of their names, —
'Tis then the mem'ries of warriors die,

Alas! ye gods! but thus the Fates decree,
Her I adore should prove unkind to me;
Forc'd from her arms, for ever to lament,
Yet would she smile, methinks I'd be content:
In some sequester'd grove to build a bower,
And ever curse the hapless, hapless hour
On which Louisa's charms I did behold,
Then be my woe in the Adelphi told.
" Let love's soft god my ardent wishes hear,
" And grant the smiles of an angelic fair;
" Sweet in her disposition tho' unkind,
" And ev'ry grace enrich Louisa's mind;

In the garden the roses blow:
Thither, thither would I go
To hear the nightingale in song
All the night long.

By the bank of the stream
She is gathering lemons:
And thither would I go
To hear the nightingale in song
All the night long.

She was gathering lemons
To give to her love:
And thither would I go
To hear the nightingale in song
All the night long.

In a silken hat
To give to her love:
And thither would I go
To hear the nightingale in song
All the night long.