«.' id eel Ae 
: 
148 
establishing ‘the beginnings of a future 
empire, and propounding a body df laws, 
this traly great man, who reflects so niuch' 
lustre on the name of Englistinan, re- 
J - . 
Oniginal Poetry, 
[March 1,, 
turned to his native, country, and died at 
Beaconsfield, ini Berkshire, of an apo- 
plexy, in 1718, at the age of seventy-* 
four. OMA ¢ OER es 
‘ 
ORIGINAL POETRY. 
a 
THE HYPOCONDRIAC. 
TimemmMipsuMMER Noon, 
DNnutT for toil, unable to collect 
~ A fixed attention; pained to grasp the 
thoughts 
That books present, or close pursue mine 
own ; ‘ 
Weak, weary, wretched, at the sultry hour 
Of noon, Tissue forth with nerves unstrung, 
Half-lifeless, and unheeding where I stray, 
Till, crossed the sun-burnt lawn, I reach at 
length, 
With many a slow sad step, the sloping 
bank, ; 
Where the pale willow droops athwart the 
stream 5 
Here, though I taste not gladness, will 1 
stretch 
My languid frame, beneath the chequered 
shade, 
Haply to find a mitigated pain, 
And lightened feel this burthen of myself, 
Till day’s meridian fierceness be o’er-past. 
Now all is mute, and the right-downward 
beam, 
That browns the pasturage, and drains each 
flower 
Of all its freshness, shrivelling up its leaves, 
Falls too'on herd and cattle; round ‘the 
deer 4, 
Lie faint beneath their beech-shades, while 
the flacks 
Stand idly in the shallows of the brook, 
Fanning off insects with the slow-swung tail. 
Where now are all the gambols of their 
young, 
The frisking antics of the morning hour ? 
When midst the fresh and sparkling dew they 
leaped, 
And the cool air breathed gladness? Now 
the lark, 
That with the sun had ristn, and upward 
sprung 
Joyous to heaven-gate, carolling her lay, 
Folds up her russet pinion, and withdraws, 
Languid and silent, to yon inmost ‘grove. 
Such o’er all nature is th? cppressive sway 
Of noon-tide heat! ah! lifce the leaden 
_ mace : 
Of Tyranny, that numbs each heayen-born 
power, 
And levels low all energies of mind ; 
Or the yet heavier rule of dumb Despair, 
That with its weight breaks dowa each ine 
ward spring. 
Me too, th’ intenseness of the sultry beans 
Has sunk in langoor, drained my’ nimble 
spirits, 
Exhaled the health and marrow of my 
brain; 
A heavier load of atmosphere appears 
To press around me ; painful ’tis to breathe, 
An effort ev’n to lift the listless hand, 
Yet not alone with herds and flocks I share 
Meridian feebleness, Ah! me, ’twere well, 
If this close air and burning sun subdued 
Only my animal frame; but who ¢an tell 
The wretchedness, the loathing of my life, 
With its vain toils, vain pleasures, ‘that 
attend : 
This Incubus of Day ? who can recount 
All the sad thoughts he wakes within my 
breast. ' 
Time was, when, eager in life's joyous 
prime, 
This bosom knew no heaviness; gay Pleas 
sure 
Danced like a blooming nymph before my 
path, ‘ 
And, pointing to her rose-bowers, beckoned 
me ‘ 
To pluck their sweetness; ardent fancy 
sketched, 
With rainbow hues, upon the pendant veil” 
That bid futurity, a brilliant scene, 
Fields ever fair, and skies without a cloud; 
Then every nerve was thrilled with hope _ 
and joy 5 
Or, if a transient sorrow claimed a tear, 
It fell and vanished Jike an April shower5 
And all again was sunshine, promise, peace: 
Or, if [ upward looked, lo! Glory sate 
High on a rock, and cheered me to ascend, 
To claim a niche within the marble fane . 
That crowned the steep ; with glowing breast 
I heavy’d . 
From the low vale, and bounded at her call, 
Like a young roe along the mountain side. 
These days—-no more of them—Qh ! Bons 
they are, ; 
For ever gone. Even in tHe spring of life 
The rose-buds died, The curtain is drawn 
Up, 
And lo! the scene is sad reality. 
And did I fondly ween, Ambition, crowned 
With glad success, would compensation 
yield 
For Pleasure’s lie, for Fancy’s vanished bliss! 
Ah! envied few, ye comrades.of my youth, 
With whom I started in life’s eager S45", , 
"see 
