33 
ODE TO FRIENDSHIP. 
BY SAMUEL THOMAS H * * 7. 
Hatu! virgin daughter of the skies ! 
In genial loveliness array’d ; 
Allied by kindred, sister ties, 
To pity, heaven-descended maid, 
And love celestial ; sent below, 
Among the sons of human woe, 
To blend them in the social tie 
Of feelings warm, electric sympathy. 
As universal as the light 
Of heaven’s thy soul-pervading power ; 
Thy charms in every clime delight, 
And dissipates the tempest’s lour 
Of hopeless grief—thou strew’st life’s way 
With all the vernal flowers of May, 
And with thy consecrated charm, 
Despair’s heart-sinking power thou dost 
disarm. 
Benignant as the morning dew, 
Thou doth refresh the drooping heart ; 
And vital energy, anew, : 
Thy sacred solace doth impart. 
Hail! nymph of social pleasure, hail! 
Thy presence glads life’s gloomy vale, 
As when above the storm’s dark breast, 
The sun emerges with refulgent crest. 
Bare is thy virgin-breast of snow, 
An emblem of thy confidence ; 
The hallowed sanctuary of woe, 
Where feeling’s holy influence, 
And hospitable tenderness, 
Sustains and soothes with warm caress ; 
And with thy talismanic wand, 
Unfolds the enchantment of hop’d fairy 
land. 
a 
RETROSPECTIONS. 
Once more from my bosom’s best joys torn asuncer 
By commerce’ harsh mandate, and fate’s stern 
decree, : 
Far, far from thee, Anna, on Tyne’s banks I 
wander, 
And baad though I should not—think only of 
thee. 
Though Pleasure her luresare fast spreading around 
me, 
T’ll quit their attractions, and pause here awhile; 
On the spot where home’s comforts so late did sur- 
round me, 
A wife’s fond endearments—a lov’d infant’s 
smile. 
And say, is there aught in the rich growing coffers 
Of those who reach nearest Prosperity’s goal ; 
Is there ought which fell Mammon, most tempt- 
ingly offers, 
Which an yield, like true feeling, a balm to the 
soul ? 
Say, are not those beings more anxious than blithe- 
some 
Whom gold hasenticements to entrap and allure ; 
Is not Poverty’s bosom more tranquil and light- 
some, 
When Honesty’s current flows through the heart 
pure ? 
Though Trade, thou’rt the pillar of Britain’s high 
grandeur, 
And plantest her cities where desarts have 
frown’d, 
Yet to low tricking minions thou oft hast turn’d 
pander, 
And mankind’s social love in thy greedy depth’s 
drown’d. 
Original Poetry. 
| Feb. 1, 
But turnwe, my muse, from these scenes uninviting , 
By Tyne’s rushy brink as we pensiyely wind, 
And Fancy bid fly to the spot she delights in, 
To the spot where my Annastill lingers behind. 
Assi-ted by her, the sweet cheater of sadness, 
Already my white-fronted cot I espy ; 
And lo! o’er my mind darts a new ray of gladness, 
For my Anna herself—my soul’s bliss meets ny 
eye. 
Yes! deck’d with more charms than apparels the 
young spring, 7 
Hea!th glowing her cheeks, with youth’s inno- 
eence crown'd, 
More fair than the whitest plume stol’n from a doye's 
wing, ; : 
And with dark hazel orbs, where expression sits 
thron’d. 
She comes! I behold her! joy wildering illusions ! 
Sweet wakeneis of rapture, awhile bless my sight! 
She is gone, and ye perish, frail transient delusions, 
Ere I tasted Love’s rich flowing cup of delight. 
Lov’d fair! whom this heart still selects.as its choice 
theme, 
Say, by sickness impair’d dost thou e’er think of 
me ? 
Like a flower that droops low for the want of its 
sun-beam, 
I ria chill’d by gales of sharp sorrow, for 
thee, 
I mourn when I think of thy soothing smiles 
, tender, 
T Boe te gushing drops thou didst feeling, ton, 
shed, 
When Fortune rose fierce like the blasts of De- 
cember, 
And toscenes far away from thy sweet arms I fled. 
Lamb Green, Bermondsey. ENORT, 
ooo 
ON VIEWING A PAINTING ON MOON- 
LIGHT. 
December 7th, 1819. 
--T1s Moonlight, with her placid eye, 
The sweetest orb along the sky ; 
When forth she guides her milky team, 
And throws her lucid wavry beam 
Along the wide etherial plains, 
Where fix’d, the eye with rapture strains, 
To drink in‘all the dewy light, 
And sweep the blue expansive sight. 
Now rising from her western couch, 
In form a crescent peeping out ; 
Now with projected robes she rides, 
Now broader sweeps the vaulted skies, 
Now soaring fills her silver horn, 
And now, on fleecy clouds upborn ; 
Now passing thro’ the floods of light, 
She soars the peerless queen of night. 
In such a time, in such a scene, 
How sweet’s the calm that reigns serene ; 
When down the gentle river’s side 
Is heard the song of even-tide. 
The pendant oar is seen to flash, 
And then is heard the falling dash, 
Responsive to the curling waye, 
Whose wand’ring stream delights to lave; 
While down the gentle winding stream 
The whiten’d sail unfurl’d is seen 
To glide so sweetly o’er the tide, 
And press its bosom’s heaving side. 
But lo! the Moon’s soft pensive light, 
Now strikes upon the church-yard site, 
While from out her gloomy bower 
Isseen the hamlet’s sacred tower, 
With 
