142 
HORACE —Book II. Ode 9. 
TO VALGIUS. 
THE heavy clouds not al ways pour downrain, 
Nor always storms deface the rugged plain, 
And toss the billows of the Caspian flood, 
Nor® northern alia deface: the® spreading 
' wood; 
Where lofty oaks in Gargan forests grow, - 
And wild ash-trees their tender foliage shew : 
Nor are ‘the’ borders of the Armenian coast 
For ever fetter’d by inclement frost. 
Why,my friend Valgius! do you waste the day 
With mournful strains for Mystes flown away ? 
For ever fix’d your faithful love remains : 
Nor do you stop your melancholy strains, 
When radiant vesper decks the spangled skies, 
Or when the rapid sum is seen to rise. 
But Pylius Nestor, for his length of years 
Renown’d, not thus with unavailing tears 
Bedew’d his lov’d Antilochus’s urn ; 
Nor did his sire with ceaseless sorrow mourn 
Young Trdilus; nor did the Phrygian-train 
Of sisters always for his death complain. 
At length forego to strike the plaintive string, 
And Czsar’s boundless conquests let us sing : 
How cold Niphates and broad Medus slides 
Thro’ conquer’d nations with more humble 
tides, ? 
And the Geloni, in their narrow’d plain, 
May give a close to our heroic strain. 
J. M‘D. 
SONNETS. 
TO THE HONEYSUCKLE. 
Sweer parasite! of fair and reddening hue, 
Around my lonely cottage-walls entwin’d! 
Thy fresh young buds, enrich’d with Maia’s 
dew, 
With fragrant sweetness scent the evening 
wind ! 
Here as I sit, in Spring’s gay bower reclin’d, 
And Flora’s tribes, thick varying, round me 
see ; 
Not all their charms—their es beauties 
join’d, 
Tn choice simplicity can vie with thee !— 
Type of the social heart! who lovingly 
Peepest ofttimes my lattic’d casement thro’— 
Blushing scarce seen, like village-maiden shy, 
Her rése-complexion’d sweetness known to 
few! 
Wind,then, around my porch, thy tendrils gay, 
Flora’s young frolic child! thou perfum’d 
guest of May! Enort. 
Blue-Anchor Road, Bermondsey, 
TO DEPARTING SUMMER. 
Ere Winter, stern Winter, dismantles thy 
bowers, 
We reluctantly murmur adieu ! 
Furewell to thy fruits, and farewell to thy 
flowers, 
That could charm with each favour and hue- 
Farewell to the warmth of thy bright sunny 
‘skies ! 
To the balm of thy mornings, farewell! 
Adieu the wild notes that were wont to arise, 
From the woodlands, the grove and the dell! 
Original Poetry. 
[Sept. 1 
With branches bedeck’d, the last sheaf from 
‘the fields 
Hath merrily, yanish’d—the horn 
No longer at twilight its melody yields,* 
“By the ‘breeze o’er the valley upborne. 
The leaves of the forest their colour of green 
Have changed for the hue of decay ; 
And the wind, as it qustles the. branches 
between, 
Seems to sigh o’er the fall of its prey. 
To soften our parting, thy liberal band 
(That so rarely is slack to bestow) 
Hath lavish’d thy treasures throughout the 
wide land, 
Till our stores ‘with abundance.o’erflow. 
‘Yet in vain do we labour to stifle the sigh ~ 
Of regret, as we gaze on thy flight 
To regions where Winter ne’er troubles the 
sky, 
Nor sheds on thy beauties a blight. 
When the tyrant, enyelop’d in clouds, shall 
descend, 
And his storms round our dwellings shall 
howl— 
As over the blaze of the faggots we bend, 
And circle the health-pledging bow], 
We'll toast thee, gay Summer!—and, deep 
as we quaff 
The juice of thy grape, we'll remember, 
*Tis thy bounty enables us blithely to laugh 
At the blustering wrath of December. 
Then, fare thee well, spirit benignant and 
bright! 
We must bear with thine absence awhile :-— 
Time shall bring thee again, in thy garment 
of light, 
To adorn and to gladden ourisle! J. H. 
* The author seems to have forgotten, that the 
Horn rather awakens than is silenced by the depar- 
ture of summer.—Zdit. 
THE BARK OF LOVE, 
WRITTEN TO ILLUSTRATE A PICTURE. 
Once enter’d Love’s deceitful bark, 
The hapless maid no safety knows: 
Through stormy billows, drear and dark, 
His trembling prize the urchin rows! 
Embark’d upon a dangerous sea, 
_’ Where rocks abound, and billows roar— 
Without a pilot—how can HE 
Conduct the voyager safe to shore ? 
Too oft a fearful wreck he makes 
Of such as take him for their guide ; 
Then, faithless boy! his freight forsakes, ~ 
‘And leaves them to the fatal tide! 
Cc. B. W. 
THE WONERSH WALL. 
Wuy towers yon prison-wall some seyen 
yards high, 
Baron of Grantley, round thy snug. domain? 
Hark! from the neighbouring spire, the bells 
reply— 
Grantley to wife a blooming bride has ta’en. 
