POETRY. 
TO MARIA, ON A RETROSPECT OF HER SINGING. 
For the Bee. 
Au! why Maria fhould thy magic sounds 
Have broke the chain of happinefs and'rest ? 
Why, as thou sung, fhould mis’ry’s fest’ring wounds 
Have banith’d peace for ever from my breast ? 
*T was then, entranc’d in extacy divine, 
That Fancy drew thy features still more fair 5 
And lost in faithlefs transport made thee mine, 
Rewarding every pang of anxious care. 
Till fate, relentlefs, woke me from my trance, 
For ever snatch’d me from my native place 5 
And, frowning, wither’d with destructive glance, 
Each smile that beam’d in Hope’s celestial face. 
While ev’ry fairy vision fled away, 
And chang’d the summer scene, to darknefs and dismay. 
' ARMINE. 
ODE TO THE POPPY. 
©h! ‘that I could steal one from the knowledge of my own miseries! 
I. 
Kunbest flow’r which first did grow 
Where Lethe’s drowsy waters flow 5 
Let Zephyr waft thy opiate breath, 
Mild harbinger of peaceful death, 
To lull this raging pang of grief, 
And give each swelling throb relief. 
Ile 
Mem’ ry but renews my woe; 
Come then, all thy aid bestow: 
To my rudely tortur’d breast, 
Grant the visionary rest, 
Whose leaden slumbers blefs 
With calm forgetfulne/s, 
So may heaven’s kindest dews refreth thy soil, 
And mildest moon beams o'er thy slumbers smile, 
III. 
Thy exhalations it is said, 
Have wond’rous pow’r to Jul] the mind ; 
an make it to its wretchednefs resign’d, 
Aad o’er its woes oblivion’s mantle spreads 
