Now raptur'd bears him to the immortal plains, Where Mercy hails him with congenial strains; Where soars, on Joy's white plume, his spirit free, And angels choir him while he waits for thee.
Louisa's First Meeting with Eugenio.
(From Louisa, a Poetical Novel.)
Now expectation's fervour rose, to hail
The youthful master of this quiet vale,
My blooming brother-from Oxonia's towers,
Who sought, with tender haste, his native bowers.
'Twas noon, and ripen'd Summer's fervid ray
From cloudless ether shed oppressive day.
As on this shady bank I sat reclin❜d,
My voice, that floated on the waving wind,
Taught the soft echoes of the neighbouring plains
Milton's sweet lays, in Handel's matchless strains.
Presaging notes my lips unconscious try,
And murmur "Hide me from day's garish eye!"
Ah! blest, had Death beneath his sable shrine
Hid me from all the woes that since were mine!
Beneath my trembling fingers lightly rung The lute's sweet chords, responsive while I sung.
Faint in the yellow broom the oxen lay,
And the mute birds sat languid on the spray;
And nought was heard, around the noontide bower,
Save, that the mountain bee, from flower to flower,
Seem'd to prolong, with her assiduous wing,
The soft vibration of the tuneful string;
While the fierce skies flam'd on the shrinking rills,
And sultry silence brooded o'er the hills!
As on my lip the lingering cadence play'd,
My brother gaily bounded down the glade,
And, while my looks the fire of gladness dart,
With ardour press'd me to his throbbing heart;
Then to a graceful stranger turn'd, whose feet,
With steps less swift, my coyer welcome meet.
O'er his fine form, and o'er his glowing face,
Youth's ripen'd bloom had shed its richest grace;
Tall as the pine amidst inferior trees,
With all the bending osier's pliant ease.
O'er his fair brow, the fairer for their shade,
Locks of the warmest brown luxuriant play'd.
Blushing he bows!-and gentle awe supplies
Each flattering meaning to his downcast eyes;
Sweet, serious, tender, those blue eyes impart
A thousand dear sensations to the heart;
Mild as the evening star, whose shining ray
Soft in the unruffled water seems to play;
And when he speaks-not music's thrilling power,
No, not the vocal mistress of the bower,
When slow she warbles from the blossom'd spray,
In liquid blandishment, her evening lay,
Such soft insinuating sweetness knows,
As from that voice in melting accent flows!
To the departing Spirit of an alienated Friend.
O EVER dear! thy precious vital powers
Sink rapidly! the long and dreary night
Brings scarce an hope that morn's returning light Shall dawn for thee! In such terrific hours, When yearning fondness eagerly devours
Each moment of protracted life, his flight The rashly-chosen of thy heart has ta'en,
Where dances, songs, and theatres invite. Expiring sweetness! with indignant pain
I see him in the scenes where laughing glide Pleasure's light forms;-see his eyes gaily glow, Regardless of thy life's fast ebbing tide; I hear him, who should droop in silent woe, Declaim on actors, and on taste decide!
Subject of the preceding Sonnet continued.
BEHOLD him now his genuine colours wear,
That specious false one, by whose cruel wiles
I lost thy amity; saw thy dear smiles
Eclips'd; those smiles, that us'd my heart to cheer,
Wak'd by thy grateful sense of many a year,
When rose thy youth, by Friendship's pleasing
toils
Cultur'd;-but dying!-O! for ever fade The angry fires.-Each thought, that might upbraid
Thy broken faith, which yet my soul deplores,
Now as eternally is past and gone
As are the interesting, the happy hours,
Days, years, we shar'd together. They are flown!
Yet long must I lament thy hapless doom,
Thy lavish'd life, and early-hasten'd tomb.
December Morning, 1782.
I LOVE to rise ere gleams the tardy light,
Winter's pale dawn ; —and as warm fires illume
And cheerful tapers shine around the room, Thro' misty windows bend my musing sight, Where, round the dusky lawn, the mansions white, With shutters clos'd, peer faintly thro' the gloom, That slow recedes; while yon gray spires assume, Rising from their dark pile, an added height By indistinctness given. Then to decree
The grateful thoughts to God, ere they unfold To Friendship, or the Muse, or seek with glee Wisdom's rich O hours! more worth
By whose blest use we lengthen life, and free
From drear decays of age, outlive the old!
WHEN life is hurried to untimely close,
In the years of crystal eyes and burnish'd hair,
Dire are the thoughts of death;-eternal parting
From all the precious soul's yet known delights,
All she had clung to here;-from youth and hope,
And the year's blossom'd April; - bounding
strength,
Which had out-leap'd the roes, when morning suns
Yellow'd their forest-glade;-from reaper's shout
And cheerful swarm of populous towns;-from
Time,
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