1802.] 
See! fee! thofe ruby gates divide, 
An ivory fhrine appears: 
There Love and Harmony refide 
To ravifh mortal ears. 
The Deities from that recefs 
Breathe their cele tial lays, 
The wond’rous founds my thoughts pofiefs 
With rapture and amaze. 
Still prefling on with ftrong control, 
I feel the lavifh ftrain, ~~ 
Till, drunk with blifs, my wilder’d foul 
Reels on the brink of pain. 
Ah! how could I fo rathly dare 
Contend with powers divine ? 
The pride of vidtory forbear, 
My heart is wholly thine. 
T. OLDHAM. 
ACROSTIC ON BONAPARTE. 
B ARDES, Ia paix a votre lyre 
O ffre un fujet riche et pompeux. 
W ’allez pas, dans un vain delire, 
A u ciel chercher des noms fameux 
P armi les héros et les dieux j 
A la France reconnoifiante 
R epetez des fons plus cheris 5 
T out Frangois aujourdhui les chante, 
Et notre Olympe eft a Paris. 
IMITATED, 
B ARDS, teach the fweet harmonious lyre 
O f peace and joy the ftrains to found, 
N or celebrate with martial fire 
A-name in ancient ftory found 5 
P aris the nobleft heroes owns, 
A nd France in triumph fhews her fons: 
R efound the man of godlike aim, 
T he pride of nature, child of fame, 
E ternal glories confecrate his name. 
New Inn Coffee-houfe, 
Wych-fireet. 
— a 
J: D. 
THE CATASTROPHE. 
jt was a difmal eve, 
When faft came down the rain, 
And in loud torrents pour’d i 
A deluge o’er the plain. 
Abroad young Phyllis went, 
Solicitous to fee 
If in the briery ftream 
~ Aught fhould entangled be. 
Through many a winding mead 
Already had fhe pafs’d, ; 
When in a narrow nook 
A lamb was ftruggling faft. 
Quick to the fpot fhe flew, 
The captive to relieve ; 
So atts the virtuous heart, _ 
* Diftrefs’d while others grieve. 
/ 
Original Poetry. 
141 
Anxious, with out-fretch’d hand, 
She all her powers eflay’d, 
t To free the filly lamb 
That from the flock had ftray’d. 
Alas! how throbs the heart, 
When all its efforts fail ; 
Th’ intended good to impart, 
When nothing can avail ! 
Higher the waters rofe, 
The night came dark’ning on, 
And thoughts of diftant| home 
Now warn’d her to be gone. 
But ah! when pity calls, 
Who can the call deny ? 
Who ftee] a feeling heart 
Againft the fult’rer’s cry? 
Colleéting all her ftrength, 
She one laft effort tryd 5 
Juft feized it:—but, juft then 
Plung’d down into the tide. 
Refiftlefs urg’d the ftream ; 
In vain was near the fhore 5 
Beneath the whelm fhe finks, 
And Phyllis is no more! 
Ye gen’rous fouls! that feel 
: For others’ pain and woe, 
Feel ye for Nature’s child, 
Who found the ftream a foe, 
Pity the fate of her 
Who met a wat’ry grave, 
As fhe unyielding ftrove 
A lamb from death to fave. 
Thame, Feb, 3, 1302. 
nee LEE ee 
Fest 
SONNET upoz a SONNET, imitated from the 
FRENCH. me 
Too cruel maid, -who étdered me ta write 
What mortals call a fonnet; I defpair 
That fourteen lines my Mutfe will e’er indite 2 
However, four are made, and here they 
are. 
At firft moft grievoufly I rack’d my brain, 
But making verfes teaches one the trades 
Courage! I fee my labour’s not in vain, 
For lo! my fair, the fecond ftanza made. 
Once more, ye Mufes, condefcend to rime! 
Nor have I prayed in vain, the Mufes 
{mile 
Upon their flave, and ina little time 
I fhall complete this more than mortal toils 
For thirteen lines are done, my life upon it! 
Now count, you'll find fourteen, and there's 
a Sonnet. 
- PRO- 
