t 
210 
« Let fordid gain your ftooping fouls in{pire, 
« And bid the foaring dreams of Hope fare- 
wel. 
¢¢ The molten idol of the world behold; 
$¢ Its altar rais’d-on Virtue’s ruin’d fhrine ! 
€ Go, join in worfhip to the Calf ef Gold ! 
‘* Be rich and happy—when no longer mine. 
<6 For what avails it, tho’ that world prefent 
«© The meed of glory, in an empty name? 
¢¢ A moment’s breath, for years of labour 
fpent, 
s¢ A bubble floating on the blaft of Fame; 
6° Whofe echoing trumpet, and whofe laurel 
_ crown, 
é¢ But form a trophy o’er a bafelefs throne; 
6 Where fhines ove hour the pageant of renown, 
«¢ The next deep funk in poverty unknown > 
‘ No pleafure meets his melancholy gaze ; 
“ But, to reflect, "tis not for him to tafte 5 
“ The prey of mifery, the theme of praife, 
s* He looks at heaven-—but treads a barren 
watte ; 
€ Curs’d by the pity of pretended friends, 
‘¢ His morbid nerves deep thrill’d with mental 
pain; 
6 Till o’er his clay the fplendid tomb afcends, 
*¢ And Bride beftows what Virtue begg’d in 
vain,’ 
Thus broke the forrows of the indignant mufe, 
‘Tracing withgdevious ftep the twilight grove 5 
And loft amid the evil which purfues 
Th’ afpiring children of her ardent love. 
Rous’d by ber grief, Rrong Fancy’s eagle eye 
Tranipierc’d “the darkly clofing veil of night, 
Axcdio! a vifionary fair * drew nigh, 
Before acountlets train, half funk from fight. 
The drooping phantom feem’d the form of woe, 
Offering, at Sorrow’s fhrine, the meney tears 
Huth’d were the winds, as tremulous and flow 
« Thefe mourntul accents caught my hftening 
ear: 
¢* Congenial horrors, hail! yet wherefore reft, 
“* Ye venerable fhades, in nature’s fleep ? 
« Ah! yield your qui iet to my troubl’d breatt, 
‘6 Or fecl, like that, the raging Reid 
ae 
é¢ Alike we glory’d in the pride of May, 
66 And Baten s {miles, and Nature’s feafon 
Ger, 
6€ Alike our fummer friends have fallen away— 
.. But fallen with me to renovate no more. 
«* High as your green leaves wav'd in vernal 
fkies, 
sé With me the buds of Genius wak’d to birth ; 
¢¢ And rapture mark’d the blufhing fruitage rife, 
66 Court the warm fun, and fcorn the diftant 
earth ! 
« But fickle was the hope, by Sorrow crofs’d, 
‘6 And tranfient was the ray which nurs’d its 
bloom 5; 
* Charlotte Smith. 
Original Poetry. 
“ Anticipating time, 2 killing froft, 
¢ 
“a 
“ Fias ftrew’d the {poil on expe€tation’s tomb 
Oh! Senfibility, thow child of Joy; 
_ © How loft thy nature, and how chang’d thy 
T4 
«6 
“~ 
$ 
i 
66 
66 
6s 
6¢ 
66 
6s 
(4 
6s 
(£4 
$s 
6s 
<9 
6é 
part ! $ 
No—never fhall return that fond employ 
*¢ Which once endear’d thee to this fanguine. 
heart ; 
When ’twas but thine the trembling with to 
frame, 
“ To thrith the nes the virgin blufh to, 
move— 
To waken friendfhip’s pure unburning flame, 
s¢ Or kindle rapture at the torch of Love. 
Now, leagued with poverty, thy hands prepare 
*¢ A ling'ring poifon for my cup of wee ; 
Or wide expand the por tals of Delpatts 
és And beckoning point he gloomy vos 
below ! 
Say what your gifts, ye mufes, mow avail, 
“* The poet’s feeling, and the poet’s fire > > a 
But keener pangs ae teach me to age, 
‘6 But deeper lamentations they infpir : 
Perhaps a {canty pittance they fupply! 
“ But bitter is the tafk, with throbbing head, 
Our right withheld by profp’rous villainy, 
“To earn, by mental toil, our daily bread = 
In ftudy to confume the cheerlels day, 
‘“* To add its gains to Fortune’s fcanty ftore, 
And, weeping, picture te the young and gay, 
<* Joys which this breaking heast can know 
RO more ¢ 
For pale Difeafe’ has Ro?'n the fcythe of time, 
« And low my fav’rite flower is laid in dufth—' 
Pride of my day s—to wither in her prime ! 
«¢ Rut heaven has feen my wrongs, and will 
be jatt, : 
Like the poor bird’s my fate, which o’er the 
matin : 
** In adverfe winds attempts. fome difiant. 
coat, 
And plies his weary wings, but plies in vain, 
«« Amid the boundlcfs waite ef waters lofi : 
No land in view, to fome lone rock he # feers, 
‘¢ There ihivering hears the ftorm of ” night 
ariie— 
But cre-the palid beam of morn appears, 
‘¢ Plung’d in the wave, the exhaufted fufferer 
tice: b Je) 
Ah ceafe the ftrain ! thou injur’d mourner ceafe, 
May brighter happier profpe€ts yet be thine : 
May yet thy woe-fraught bofom taite of peace, 
Severe the trials which thy virtue bores 
But foon, each fuffering patty each labour © 
And tortune and deere for once combine. ; 
By turns ailail’d by grief, difeafe, and pain 5 “E 
o’ery 4 
May they—no, let their memory remain. / 
For here recurring oft, with penfive eye, 
Thy pleafures thall affume a fairer form 3 
As vernal flowers difplay a brighter die, 
While yet we shudder at the wint? ry ftorm.’ 
aoe 
ORIGINAL 
t 
