jo8 THE COLD. May 2 



The youth ftill wand'ring o'er the defert heath, 

 Arriv'd in time to catch her dying breath. 



And his expiring Cynthia to fold ; 

 The tears in ftreamlcts trickled from his eyes. 

 " Awake my lovely maid, awake, he cries, 



" Thy^Colin comes to fnatch thee from the cold." 



At Coli'i's name return'd the genial breath ; 



bhe preis'd his hand and raifcd her eyes from death, 



When round they on her Colin languid roll'd, 

 " Wf; foon fhall m ct upon a happier fliore, 

 " When winter blafts fhall fever ns no rpore;" 



She faid, and groan'd, and died amid the cold. 



" Wretch that I am ; 'twas I, 'twas 1 

 " That dealt the blow, — did Colin cry, 



And in his arms did pallid Cynthia fold. 

 " But I will not remain, — my doom 

 " 'Tisfixd; — my love, I come, Icome;" 



He fpoke, and died Lefiuc her in the cold. 



J. G. 



To the Debauchee. 



The jovial fellow may indulge 



In merriment and wJne ; 

 His fcnlual joy I'll ne'er envy 



Such pleafures, nt'cr be mine. 



'Jhe wine may fparkle in the glafs. 

 And ciicutate briflcly round ; 



The hours may quickly glide away. 

 And mirth and fun abound. 



Vet fatal poifon taints each cup, 

 Which blarts the ftitut-liv'd joy ; 



The quicker that the glafs goes round. 

 The fooner does it cloy. 



The time, indeed, flies quick away, 

 And will no mortal wait ; 



Your guilty' pleafures foon will ceafe. 

 And death knock at yotir gate. 



The flafh of mirth and wit may pafs. 

 Till itafon quite be drown'rt^ 



To ferious fadnefs mirth will turn. 

 And vi'it no jcft be found. 



