1796], 
O May! like thee, my {pring of life I know ! 
Soon fhall the ftorm each bud of promife 
blaft | 
Reflection rudely wakes, and wakes to woe, 
And all the day-dreams of delight fly fait! 
Hlopelefs, and far from all I love away, 
Forebodings drear and anxious cares in- 
i tr ude ; 
And dark and mournful, as the mournful May, 
Pafs the fad hours of flor folitude. 
B. 
: ’ abv 
MORTALITY. 
Qwirt o’er the high grafs fweeps the blaft, 
. A filverfhade fpreads o’er the lively green; 
The gale is pat, 
“No more the filver fhade is feen. 
Saw ye the lightning fiath along the fy : ? 
Save yonder blafted oak, 
A drear memorial of the with’ring ftroke, 
it leaves no trace to guide the following eye. 
Children of men! and fuch your lot ! 
Ye live your little hour, and die and are forgot. 
What, then, avail the jewell’d crown of Pow’s, 
Pomp’s ermin’d robe, or Glory’ s deafhated 
{word ? 
What, then, the Wife one’s dreams, theMifer’ s 
hoard ? 
When Death proclaims th’ irrevocable hour, 
Life’s vain diftinGtions ceafe: the eternal doom 
Bids all the fons of clay be equal in the tomb. 
What tho’ Earth’s millions the dark ues eX= 
plore, 
No cheering tidings reach manléae from 
thence, 
For there the,eye of Wifdom fees no more, 
And filent is the tongue of Eloquence. 
_ For no one of the innumerable dead, 
- Revifits men from that obfcure abode ; 
For never fpirit twice could tread 
The dark, the dreadful road. 
Why fleeps the poet—he whofe magic fong 
Leads charmed Fancy thofe wild realms along, 
Whofe fhadowy portals bear the ominous line 
© Quit every hope all ye who enter here !”? 
Why {fleeps the bard divine, 
Whofe fpirit “ far beyond the vifible fphere- 
«* Soar’d on the feraph wings of Extafy 2” 
Why fleeps the feer 
‘Who gave the laws of Nature to our eye, 
Ful d witha portion of divinity > 
. For me, be mine when Fate fhall free 
This fpirit from mortality, 
Catching Memory’s mellow’d figh, 
Still o’er my wonted haunts to fly ; 
__In gentle vifions to defcend 
. The guardian angel of my friend, 
! 
Original Poetry. 
491 
To eafe the laft long ling’ ring breath, 
Breathe j joy prophetic i in the hour of death, 
Embrace in air the new-horn {prite, 
And guide it to the realms of light! 
Enthufiatt !—if thou canft—explore 
The vale of life that lies before. 
Dark is the vale of years, 
Dimm/’d by thofe little mifts in Reafon’s feeble 
eye — 
Enthufiat! ceafe to gaze amid immenfity. 
When on the bed of Death 
Quick beats my pulfe, and falt’ring heaves oy 
breath ; 
When round me watch my friends with ftream- 
ing eyes, 
Wearying the fick heart with their fruitlefs 
cries : 
Let me in that laft moment know 
What proud joys Virtue can beftow, 
And, fearlefs of the iron rod, 
boa up to thee, my fiends my father, and 
my GOD! 
Ah fpare that agonizing hour~—= 
Come quickly, Death! and I will blefs thy 
ow'r. 
Come Mai Sudied me tq the realms above, 
But {pare that pang to part with thofe I love! 
And when the grafs fhall wave 
Slow o’er my humble grave, ~ 
My grave be fide fome hawthorn bufh, wherein 
|The nightingale fhall fing her fong, 
“Then may the peafant fay, and drop a tear, 
“¢ The bard beloy’d by all lies bury’d here.’’ 
Fuly Jy 1798. 5. 
ane 
SONNET. 
BY CHARLES LAMB, 
Of the India Houfe. 
E were two pretty babes; the youngeft ues 
The youngeft, and the loveheft far, 1 
ween, 
And Innocence her name. 
been, 
We two did love each other’ s company. 
Time was, we two had wept t’ have been 
apart, 
But when with fhow of feeming good be- 
guil’d, 
I left the garb and manners of a child, 
And my firft love for man’s fociety, 
Defiling with the world my virgin heart, 
My lov’d companion dropt a tear and fled, 
Hiding in deepeft fhades her awful head. 
Beloved, who fhall tell me, where thou art? 
In what delicious Eden to be found? 
That I may feek thee, the wide world 
* around, 
‘The time has 
T795° 
3R 2 A CORRECT 
t 

