1806.] 



( 365 ) 



ORIGINAL POETRY. 



INSCRIPTION ON A RUIN. 

 Q STRANGER ! fpeed »ot on thy onward 



' way, 



But let this ivied flied thy ftcp delay : 

 Lo! here the wand'ring fun-beiim feebly falls, 

 And ftreaks with foften'd day the moffy walls ; 

 Sweet here to gaze the blue expanfe of nc^n, 

 Or placid watch the Summer's cloudlefs 



lYioon 

 With ray £ of fnov/y light afcending glide 

 •Mid'ft the dark elms and o'er the mountain- 

 fide. 

 Nor yet repine, if in tempeftuoushour, 

 The rain llant rulhing in a wintry fhow'r, 

 Or fnow-blaft keen thv rapid fleet compel 

 To the rude covert of this ruftic cell : 

 Pleafant it were to niufe, as o'er the fteep 

 The tall trees rock, with ftormy murm'rings 



deep j 

 And hear the rufh of rain, the ftrife of hail 

 Unfelt commingle in th' o'er-paffing gale,— 

 In this abftraded melancholy mood 

 A folemn joy ihall blefs thy folitude : 

 Thoughts of the beautiful, the good, and 



great, 

 Thy lifted foul with influence pure dilate ; 

 And if the Mufes own thee for their child. 

 The Mules here fliall weave their vilions 

 wild! 



Charles A. Elton. 



THE TOMB OF ELLEN. 

 gTRANGER ! if by worldly views 



Tliy heart is dead to Love's controul. 

 If Feeling never nurs'd with dews 

 The rofe of PalTion in thy foul ;— 



Turn from this grave thy fuUcn tread. 

 For this is Pity's holieft ilirine — 



The lilies that furround the dead 



Vi ould Ihiink from fuel/ a hand as thine. 



But if thy bread with ardour warm 



Beats to the thrilling glance of Beauty ; 



If thou halt knelt to woman's charm 

 With all of Love's enraptur'd duty, 



Then Stranger paufe and linger herp 

 (For Love and Pity feldom fever). 



And pour the fighs to palTlon dear, 

 Where Ellen flccps, alas ! for ever ! 



Sweet maid ! within thy gentle breaft 



Affttlion bloom'd, oh, how iincerely ! 

 And why did Fate, with frown unbleft, 



Creak a fond heart that lov'd lo dearly ? 

 For cold beneath the weftern wave 



Her lover found an icy pillow ; 

 No fiOw'r to duck hij lomly grave. 



No death-iTiroud but the foaming billow ! 



The Spirit of the Morn had figh'd, 



Dcligiittd o'er the rofc's bloom, 

 But Sorrow came with wltU'ring Itride, 



And fwept its beauty to the tomb. 



Stranger ! if Love awakes your figlii 

 (And Love and Pity feldom fever), 



Paufe where tha^t rofe of beauty lies — 

 Where Ellen flecps, alas ! for ever! 



W. A. RoBERTf, 



TO LIBERTY. 

 CPIRIT unquenchable ! whofe awful fire 

 Hath ever blaz'd amidft the ftruggling 

 ftorm, 

 And rufh'd athwart the night with raeteof 

 form. 

 When tyrants bade thy living beam expire! 

 Ever for thee the bread hath glow'd, 

 For thee the lyre's h'gh meafures flow'i. 

 And Valour's arm, fuWimely rear'd, 

 Glory's divineft deeds hat'i dar'd. 

 Whiift now the ftar of morn fades pale. 



And loud the ocean-furges roar, 

 What breath fo pure as morning's gale. 

 What fane fo meet as isritain's rtiore. 

 To wake the poet's numbers wild and free. 

 And pour the holy fong to Liberty ! 



Hulh'd be the lute's dull meafures, nor en.^. 



twine 

 The rofy garland— breathe no melting lay, 

 Win-ine the free-born bofom to refign 



The generous fire that fpurns defpotic fway. 

 Pleafure I thy wanton fpells torego, 

 For thou art Freedom's deadlicft foe 5 

 'And he who yields him Plealure's (Ijve, 

 Can ne'er be iree, can ne'er be brave. 

 Ve winds of Heav'n ! as wild ye fweep. 

 Where marihall'd banners proudly float ; 

 Bear, ye the muimurs, loud and deep, 

 Pour'd from tlie trumpet's brazen throat. 

 For, Freedom ! where thy glories glide, 

 Vhere thou i.i loftieft pow'rhaft palt ; 



Thine eye was on the banner's pride. 

 Thy fpirit with the trumpet's blaft. 

 Or where, with brow unbound. 

 Thou gav'rt thy briijht hair lo the gales of 



Peace, 

 And haded the battle and the triumph ceafe; 

 Theie Virtue breath'd her awe around. 

 And Honour's fun, with fteady ray, 

 Roil'd thro' the azure arch, and pour'd a purer 

 day. 



Call from the fullen harp a bolder flrrain— 



For lo ! tneir deeds ennobled fcenes reveal ; 

 And waved upon the lleav'ns' pellucid plain. 

 In awful radiajice gleams the patriot dcel. 

 And liail ! the viliou-cruudcd air, 



Ihe po-,1 p that firtis the callcrn Iky ! 

 The golden clouds of Morning bear 



'i h' immortal orni of i-ibert^ ! 

 Like ftorm-clouds ftrcam her helmet 



plumes, 

 Her lorm its warrior-port allumes, 

 Bold, proud, and terrible, as wlien 01 yore. 

 She Uceg'd her Heel in I'erCun gore, 



O Liberty j 



