146 



[It /(rt.s hetn nhservfd of Mr. Rogers, the fx- 

 cdUnt Authm- of the Plcasure/i of Mimnryj 

 Sfc. thnt the production of a Poet from a 

 Bankina-honsc ua^ an fxlraordiimry oc'- 

 cwrence ; hut the falloivbis; extracts from 

 the Jurcniic I'oi-ms of a Yuutli in a Bank- 

 house at Cuviei hurii, afford on additinnal 

 woof that that sitmdion is mt so vnfnVor. 

 ubie to the groitth of the " tender blossoms 

 «f the Muse" os may hitherto hate been 

 supposed.} 



THERE is an eye whose shaded tight 

 A liquid lustre throws ; 

 There is a cheek whose soft'ned white 



. Would sliame the gaudy rose. 

 The pert, the bright, bUck sparkling eye 



The brow o! Mirth may grace ; 

 And Health may lend its deepest dye 



To deck a rustic's face. 

 But 'tis not there that Love would seek 



For Feeling's favorite shrine; 

 Oh no ! 'tib on thy pure pale cheekt 

 Tis in such eyes as thine. 



To A FRIEND, 



ON BlilXG REQDESTEl) BY lUiM TO WRITE 

 A "poem." 



And can this humble reed of mine, 

 That scarcely trusts its breathings wild, 



Can 1 attempt a theme divine. 



The Muse's last, her meanest child ? 



To bid the living numbers roll, 



Till glory rise on eagla wing ; 

 Or wake the note where Pity's soul 



Hangs weeping o'er the thrilling string ; 



Befits the Poet's hallowed shell. 



But not my rude and lowly strains, 

 \Vhich only know, alas ! too well. 



The anxious lover's varied pains. 

 To throw a warm poetic bloom 



On buds o'er which Azora's sigh 

 Hath breathed its exquisite perfume. 



To praise her cheek — her gentle eye ; 

 That lovely check ;o softly fair — 



Those smiling lips so sweelly sever, 

 That, oh ! to dwell a moment there, 



My Soul would <quit its home for ever ! 



Had you beheld her eyes' mild beams. 

 As through their silken fringe they shine, 



A'ou would not ask for nobler themes, 

 But onlv wish a bard divine. 



Original Poetry. [Sept. 1, 



What charm like Affection's first sigh. 

 Can (he soft breath of summer impart ? 



What light like the beam of the eye. 



When confessing the warmth of the heart I 



No, Mira, the bloom of the soul 



Is nipped by no change of the weathef » 



Unheeded the seasons may roll. 

 Till we sink to Elysium together ! 



, The BEAUTIES of NATURE. 



On ! why do you bid me awake 

 My song from its amorous dream ? 



Oh ! why dojou wish me to make 

 The beauties of nature my theme ? 



That the purest emotions I know 



At the brightness of morning, believe ; 



And dearer, still dearer, the glow 

 Of the summer's voluptuous eve. 



Yet the landscape may pall on the sight. 

 Its hues as you gate melt away, 



They are veiled in the gloom of the night, 

 At the colli touch of wtnter decay. 



STANZAS. 

 P E N E A T H the main a coral cave 

 Is oft the shipwreck'd sailor's grave, 

 VVhere gems of purest beauty bright v 



Pour round the place their lonely light, » 

 And seem a silent watch to keep 

 Over the wretch's endless sleep. 

 In the dark horrors of a tomb, 

 I've seen a simple flow'ret bloom. 

 And from its v>gin bosom shed 

 A pious fragrance o'er the dead. 

 As it it hoped its dulcet breath 

 Might wake the sullen sense of death. 

 Thus, buried in my Joyless breast, 

 Affection's fondest feelings rest ; 

 Though Fancy lend her playful beana, 

 And Hope its ineffectual gleam, 

 The light is false— the hope is vain— 

 They ne'er shall spring to life again. 



A FAIRY scene, with sportive hand. 

 At noon upon the shore I traced ; 



The billows, rushing to the land. 

 At evening every print effaced. 



Soft falling through the sileol night. 



On earth a snowy mantle lay ; 

 But, shrinking at the dawn of lijjht. 



Dissolved into a dew away. 

 Thus smiling Fancy spread of late 



Her lieasures to my youthful mind ; 

 Thus, mehing at ihe touch of fate. 



They fled, nor left a trace behind. 



STANZAS, 



WRITTEN ON THE SEA SHORE AT — — 



Kt!NT. 

 Tk e orb of light descending gave 

 Its splendour to the western wave. 

 And proudly every billow rolled. 

 As glorying in its garb of gold. 



Soft Twilight stole its glowing hue. 

 And spread her veil ot misty blue, 

 Whilst many a sportive green-haired maid 

 Dim glancing o'er the surface play'd. 

 Night, frowning, closes round, and all 

 En»elopes in her darkest pall. 

 Nor leaves amid the gloomy scene 

 A trace to shew where light had been. 



To-morrow's sun sliall gild again 

 The bosom of the bounding main ; 

 At eve the nymphs again shall lave 

 Their tresses in the purple wave. 



But oh ! the night that Sorrow spread 

 Around this lone despairing head. 

 That wraps the heart — that shrouds the brain- 

 Shall know no dawn of joy again ! 



*^,* Tliesc, and other pieces, are about, 

 to be laid before the public, in a volume, 

 calk'd " Jtivt-MLE I'oois." 



PiiOCEEDlNGS 



