1809.] 
. STANZAS, 
ADDRESSED TO THE LATE REV. JAMES 
OGILVIE, D.D. ON HIS BIRTH-DAY, FE- 
BRuarxy 13. By Mrs. B, FINCH. 
V 7OULD Hermes graciously dispense 
A ray of wit and eloquence, 
Or great Apollo his assistance lend ; 
Then might I, in poetic dress, 
The language of my heart express, 
On this blest day—the birth-day of my 
friend. 
But whence arose the aspiring thought ? 
Shall a poor Minstrel], all untaught, 
Seek round her brows to twine the clas- 
sic lay, 
Whose foot ne’er press’d th’ Aonian mount, 
Or str2ay’d where Aganippe’s fount 
- Thro’ laurel thickets winds its crystal 
way ? 
No—rather in some daisy’d mead, 
While sportive lambs around ‘me feed, 
Or hawthorn grove, where chaunt the 
feather’d choir, 
At grey-rob’d dawn, or rosy eve, 
Let me a primrose garland weave, 
And wake mute echo with my doric 
lyre. 
Long has that lyre neglected hung 
Untun’d, the leafless boughs among, 
But once again, to touch the trembling 
string, ‘ 
At Friendship’s bidding, I essay, 
And haii, in artless strains, this day 
O! may it to my friend true pleasures 
bring! 
May each revolving year increase 
His happiness, and heaven- born peace 
Her halcyon-plumed wings around him 
spread ; 
May health his path with roses strew, 
Each white-rob’d Joy bis steps pursue, 
And Amualthea’s horn its blessings shed. 
T’ improve a vain, degenerate age, 
Long, long may his instructive page 
In all the fire of attic wisdom shine; 
And, zealous to reform mankind, 
Still may his philanthropic mind 
New treasures draw from truth’s ex- 
haust!ess mine. 
And, when these transient scenes are o’er, 
Saie landed on that blissful shore, 
Where no tumultuous winds or storms 
annoy 3 
May he the glorious prize obtain, 
Assign’d to virtue’s faithiul tra'n, 
_ Th’ immortal wreath of never-fading 
joy! 
a 
HOPE, 
H°Pe’s vivid beam thé fancy cheers, 
As down the slope of ills we stray, 
Smiles through the wilderness of tears, 
The sunshine of a brighter day ; 
Original Poetry 
559 
Or, with a pale and softer tight, 
When age has silver’d o’er the hairs; 
Sheds her mild lustre through the night, 
And opes Elysium to our cares, 
ASC, 
a 
A TRIBUTARY TEAR TO THE MEMORY OF 
MARIA. 
[For some years past, the Author of the fol- 
lowing Stanzas had been compelled, frorn 
motives of bad health, to relinquish all in-’ 
tercourse with the world: and beiag now 
tetired to an obscure village, he acciden- 
tally became acquainted with the lovely 
child whose loss he so much deplores. 
He was singularly struck with her fasci- 
Mating manners, as well as with the 
exquisite beauty and elegance of her per- 
son, and soon discovered in her tender 
mind the dawnings of superior genius, 
and the most endearing virtues,—Pleas- 
ed at the idea of contributing his mite 
towards the education of this sweet little 
favourite of nature, who, if God spared 
her life, would prove a rich and valuable 
ornament to society, when he would be 
mouldering in the dust, he encouraged her 
visits, and devoted a small portion of time, 
every day, to her instruction, with the 
most flattering success. But he became 
peculiarly interested in the fate of this dear 
little angel, when he learned that she was 
abandoned by her paternal grandfather, the 
person to whom she ha¢ a right to look up 
for all the comforts that fortwne can bes 
stow. Her premature geath, being only ia 
the seventh year of her age, gave rise tu 
the following lines, which plead no claims 
to poetic merit. They were an attempt to 
soothe the feelings of the author, by sim- 
ply pourtraying some of the features of a 
child, so interesting, so universally be- 
loved and regretted.] , : 
WA£8AT. presage scares my slumb’ ring 
head! 
What plaintive moans assail my hed! 
Ah !—is thy gentle spirit fled, 
Maria! 
On Angel’s wings *tis horne away 
Rejoicing, to celestial day! 
Thy friends to grief are left a preyy 
Maria! 
Yet not for thee, my child, we grieve ; 
Thy flight should consolation give, 
Since thou art rais’d in biiss to live, 
Maria! 
Forgive th? involuntary tear! 
‘To me thy memory is dear, 
O } let me speak my sorrow here, 
Paria 
Slew musing through the cypressgloomy 
Ti. v sit oft the hallow’d tomb, 
While fate protr.cts my hing’ring doom, 4 
aria 
Thy 
