1800. } 
See! fee! the pen drops from my trembling 
hand, 
As memory drags to view that fatal day ! 
©; like each fcroll imprinted on the fand, 
Had the next moment worn each trace away! 
Source of my crimes, and caufe of all my woes, 
Oh Fortune! here my fupplications end! 
I feek the bow’rs of filence and repofe, 
Nor fear thy frown, nor want thee as my 
friend, 
Come Peace! with thee to wear my lifeaway ; 
No more beneath my conqueror, Grief, to 
Weep ? 
No more to wafte in fighs and tears the day! 
No more to curfe the night devoid of fleep! 
Come, Temperance! too long-negleéted maid, 
Parent of Health and all her rofy train, 
Come, lovely ftranger! come to Nature’s aid, 
Ere yet the linger in the arms of Pain! 
To Love no more my ardent pray’rs fhall rife, 
Deaf to my vows, and to my fufferance cold! 
To Love no more I'll raife my tearful eyes, 
No more to Love my lifted hands unfold! 
Subdued by woe, and at her feet reclin’d, 
Erewhile my panting heart invok’d his 
name: 
He came—but ah my poor diftraéted mind! 
To plunge me yet in deeper ills he came! 
He came! and foon my foolifh heart believ’d 
That Julia liften’d to my love-fick pray’r : 
Ah! love is credwlous and felf-deceiv’d ! 
How could I hope to win a maid fo fair? — 
Yes! the was fair beyond the Mufe to paint; 
Her eyes were azure, dipt in pearly dew 5 
Her cheeks were tinged with rofes, but fo 
faint ! 
Her foul’s fine feelings drank their native 
hue. 
How could I hope to win fo {weet a maid ? 
Her pitying ear would to my tale incline; 
In forrow’s hour fhe came to forrow’s aid, 
And i, all weaknefs! thought the maid 
Was mine. 
With awkward hand my ruftic lyre I ftrung, 
And bade the notes of amorous anguifh flow ; 
A happier fwain, alas! had {weeter fung ! 
*T was mine to fee, to love, and to forego ! 
Yes, fhe is loft! from me for ever fled ! 
No more will her foft voice my griefs be- 
guile 5 
Her hand uo more fuppert this drooping head, 
Nor ever more fhall I behoia her {mile } 
Sufpend my lyre, O Peace! on yonder tree ; 
This hand no more fhall tune its echoing 
wire ! 
Mild, timid maid! thou would’ft abandonme, 
If once again I waked the mournful lyre. 
Then ceafe, my lute! for ever ceafe thy 
ftrain, 
Left thou the memory of the paft recall; 
‘Fo touch thy chords would but renew my pain, 
Till I expiring on the earth fhould fall } 
Original Poetry. 
O59 
Parnaffian choir! receive my laft adieus 5 
Henceforth co thee my adorations ceafe ; 
Farewell the produce of each varying Mufe, 
Ah! themes ungrateful to theears of peace ! 
In each recording volume ftill we find 
Some tale difattrcus to impair the breaft 5 
Some doubt diftraét, or error warp the mind, 
On! widely leading from the arms of Ref ! 
All hail, low’d valley where my Dura!l* 
dwells, 
Where flows the pure wave from her crefs- 
crown’d urn! 
All hail thy whifpering groves, and mofly 
cells, 
To bufy life oh never to return ! 
Within thy bofom let my cot arife 
Deep in the grove that borders on thy 
ftream, 
There hills will thield it from inclement ‘kies, 
There morning vifit with her earlieft gleam. 
No wordly care fhall there affail my ears, 
‘For Solitude eludes the eye of Care; 
There lovely Evening only theds her tears ; 
There Zephyr’s figh alone difturbs the aire 
There, far remov’d from life’s tempeftuous 
fphere, 
With Peace and Nature may I ever live! 
lide gently on thro’ each revolving year, 
Nor heave one figh for all the world might 
give ! 
So the poor mariner, when ftorms affail, 
When all the pilot’s fill is vain to fave, 
Refigns his frail bark to the tyrant gale, 
With half his treafures funk beneath the 
wave; 
At length the fury of the tempeft paf, 
The trembling wretch regains the long- 
fought thore ; : 
Forf{wears the fea, and wifer grown at'laft, 
Lives on the relics of his former ftore. 
(To be continued. ) 
<= ae 
TRANSLATION of an EPITAPH in the 
GREEK ANTHOLOGIA. 
FRIEND ! o’er this fepulchre forbear, 
The plaintive figh, the pitying tear : 
No jdft pretence my death fupplies 
To heave thy breaft, or dim chine eyes. 
With children’s children grac’d, one wife 
Wealk’d with me down the vale of life: 
Three blooming youths my Joyous hands 
Entwin’d in Hymen’s blifsful bands: 
The numerous race thofe nuptials bleft 
Oft flumber’d on their grandfire’s breaft : 
No ftreams of grief through life I thed, 
Over child, or grandcbild, fick or dvad > 
By them to my departed thade 
The tear was pour’d, the rites were paid; 
Thus convoy’d to eternal reft ! 
In life, in death, fupremely blef. 
Dorchefier Gaol. G. WAKEFIELD, 
* The Dure is a fmall ftream that runs 
through the town ef Dover, in Kent. 
xX x2 The 
