56 
SONNET. 
POETS of Italy, I love you well ! 
Whether you fing in your :mmortal ftrains 
Of wars and warriors; or you +7 to tell 
Of gentle maidens and of tzithful fwains : 
Whether I lift to thee, whofe mighty pow’r 
Bade the dark houfe of Woe her gueits difplay ; 
Or thee, who in the folitary hour 
Hatt won my ear with many a love-lorn lay, 
My heart is fo deceiv’d, that it prefers 
Ben to the majetty of claflic fong 
Your wilder notes. Yet half the charms is her’s 
Who taught me what you are. To her belong 
My thanks to her my gratitude is due: 
T love you, for my Laura loves you too. 
Dec. 85 1796. W. Gray. 
=o Re 
IMITATION 
OF THE FIFTH ODE OF ANACREON, 
Wie the plant of Love, the Rofe, 
Let us tinge our fparkling wine ; 
> With the faireft flow’r that blows, 
Let us blufhing crowns entwine ; 
And, while laughing Bacchus flows, 
Sorrow to the winds confign! 

‘Fragrant Rofe! thou fweeteft flow’r! 
Daughter of the perfum’d Spring ! 
Priz’d by Gods at banquet hour, 
Moving in the Graces’ ring ! 
Crown’d with rofes, Venus’ boy 
Shakes his wreath, and {miles for joy ! 
Hither, as my fportive lyre 
Bromian Bacchus fhall infpire, 
Let the lovely girl advance © 
In the mazy winding dance ; 
Tuck’d above her knee the vett, 
Hair unbound, and open breatt ; 
Whiift her limbs, to mu&c gay, 
Each foft lurking charm difplay ! 
1796. PERSIS. 
EE 
SONG. 
WEET Maid, I hear thy frequent figh, 
And mourn to fee thy languid eye; 
Fur well I know thefe fymptoms prove 
Thy heart a prey to fecret love. 
But tho’ fo hard a fate be thine, 
Think not ¢#y grief can equal mire. 
Hope may thy vanifh’d bloom reftore; 
I figh for him wHo Lives No MORE |! 
The youth, for whom thy bofom fighs, 
Shall oft’ delight thy confcious eyes ; 
And oft’ his voice, in accents {weer, 
Shall Friendfhip’s foothing tone repeat s 
But he for whom my cheek is pale, 
For whom my health and fpirits fail, 
Nought to my eyes can e’er refiore, 
And I fhall hear his voice No MorE! 
Original Poetry. 
f Jans | 
Thou, in exiftence, itill canft fd 
A charm to captivate thy mind! 
To make the morning ray delight, 
And gild the gloomy brow of night ¢ 
But Nature’s charms to me are fled ! 
I nought beho'd but Henry pEap! 
_ What can my love of life reftore ? 
I figh for him wHo LivEs NO mMoRE! 
AMELIA: © 
aS 
CHANSON, 
Chante en France prar les Réjublicains, pour la Par. 
It eft temps qu’un fer déftructeur 
€effe denfanglanter la terre. 
O Mars! O Dieu de la furear, 
Ton régne eft celui du malheur ; 
Tl faut qu’a Péffrotable guerre; 
Succéde un repos enchanteur. 
O Paix, O Paix chérie, 
Ramene le bonheur, 
Au fein de ma patrie ! 
Quoi! ne défirons-nous pas tous 
Redevenir enfin des hommes ; 
N’étre plus haineux ni jaloux, 
Pour finir un trop-long courroux ? . 
Aimons-nous tous tant que nous femmes 
C’eft le fentiment le plus doux! . 
O Paix, O Paix chérie, &c. 
Laiffons, en modeftes vainqueurs, 
Tomber nos armes triomphantes. 
Sur Purne de nos défenfeurs he 
Portons nos regrets & des fieurs ; 
Mais en leur mains bienfaifantes 
Offrons union de nos cceurs. 
O Paix, &c. 
Fermons pour jamais les tombeaux 
Qu’on avoit creu’és dans la Frances 
En amitié foyons égaux. 
Eloignons les affreux flambeaux, 
Flambeaux de haine & de vengeance 5 
Par des bienfaits foyons rivaux. 
O Paix, &¢. 
Sous les aufpices de la Paix, 
Revenons tous 2 la Nature ; 
Elle ne nous trompe jamais, 
Elle nous comble de bienfaits, 
Et renouvelle fans mefure 
Ceux qu’elle nous a déja faits. 
O Paix, &c. ag 
Sous ton ombrage protecteur, 
Olive chere & précicufe ; 
Puiffe renaitre le bonheur, 
Les arts, la gaicté, la douceur, 
Cette urbanite gracieufe 
Ouvrage d’un fexe enchanteur ! 
O Paix, O Paix chérie, 
Ramene le bonheur, 
Au fein de ma patrie! 
NEW 
