i ee 
46 . Original Poetry. 
€* Far other woes I’m. doom’d to prove, 
Than thofe that. fpring from. beauty’s 
pow'r 3 
Far other cares than thofe of love 
Inceffant claim each paffing hour. 
‘© The founding whip and clanking chain 
_ With horrid din difturb my reft ; 
And curfes dire, from lips profane, 
Shoot fudden terrors thro” my breaft. 
*¢ Divided far from all I love, 
Remov’d from all my heart holds dear, 
Death’s fharpeft pangs each day I prove, 
And fhed each hour the fruitlefs tear. 
«© Then come kind Pow’r, the wretch’s 
friend, . . 
O come, and this laft ftruggle fee ; 
*Tis thus thy Boxo meets his end 3; 
*Tis thus he fets his fpirit free!” ' 
Too well he aim’d the deadly blow ;—= 
His parting {pirit upward. fled 5 
And as to earth his corfe funk low, 
Dim night a deeper horror fhed. 
Excter, Nov. 14, 1800. 
—_ aaa 
R. H. 
MORNING SHADES. 
How foothing, penfive Anna, to review 
The rofy hours we lately bade adieu ! 
As lonely in the morning fhade I rove, 
The murmurs of the wind, that {weep the 
’ grove, 
Diffufe congenial fadnefs o’er my heart, 
Doom’d from thy lovely prefence todepart. 
Ofttimes, ye nymphs! recall the fmiling 
{cene? : 
The heavens how bright! and ocean how fe- 
rene ! , 
When warlike feamen ply’d the dafhing oar, 
To waft.us gaily to the verdant fhore ; 
And there review the manfion high, that 
ftood 
Where fhone the river through the circling 
woed, 
Attune thine airy harp, harmonious wind! 
Like mé to foothe the friends I leave be- 
hind. 
MORWEE DOWN. 
Or Morvel’s brow, fo oft, why views thine 
eye : 
The fcene that fpreads from Edgecombe’s 
_ woody fteep 5 , 
When Pheebus blufhes in the orient fky, 
And paints with gold the margin of the 
deep > 
Why from the vale, where Tavy’s rocky tide: 
In chorus {wells the fylvan roundelay, 
Climb you with feet untir’d up Morwel’s fide, 
To mark the opening beauties of the bay » 
And there when Dian hangs her filver bow 
Bright in the ftarry palace of the welt, 
Why wander on that mountain to and fro, 
Like one of friends bereaved or balmy, 
refc > 
+‘ 
[ Feb, ; 
Methinks that profpe&t breathes fome magic 
Ipelis : » P ; 
*¢ It does,’ my friend, ** for there my Annz 
dwells !” *: 
MIDNIGHT DARKNESS. 
How wild the uproar of the ftormy night ! 
Wind, rain, and hail refound amid the 
gloom ; 
No ray of lunar, or of ftarry light 
With heaw’nly fmile falutes my fhadowy 
room ! 
While lawlefs whirlwinds fweep the thun- 
dering fy, : 
And clouds, that pour a fudden deluge,roll; : 
No lovely Anna checks my rifing figh, 
Or whifpers peace and gladnefs to my foul. 
She fleeps enamoured of the God of ref, 
Who folds (ah me!) my darling in his arms, 
Infpires with {weet repofe her gentle breaft, 
And kindles with the glow of health her 
charms. : 
But if a ftealing dream the damfel fee, 
She fcorns the god, and dreams alone of me: 
Fas, 1801. W. EVANS, 
Sa 
To LESBIA. 
Soles occidere,; et redire poffunt : 
Nobis cum femel occidit brevis lux, 
Nox eft perpetua una dormienda, é&c, 
i CatTurus. 
THOUGH fades the fapphire fun’s refplen~ 
dent ray, 
He foon fhall ope the golden gates of day = 
But we, when fades our dim deceitful light, 
Are doom’d to flumber an eternal night. 
Thten let us pluck,while in their balmy prime, 
The flowers of youth, nor fport with rapid 
Time ; 
For Time fhall {teal the rofe from off thy face, 
And rob the dimpling cheek of ewry grace. 
ee : , 
SONNET on the AvPROACH Of the GOUT. 
"PIs ftrange that thou thouldft leave the 
downy bed, 
The Turkey carpet, and the foft fettee, . 
Shouldft leave tite board with choiceft dainties 
{pread, 
To-fix thy odious refidence with me! 
°Tis ftrange that thou, attach’d to plenteous 
eafe, ; 
Shouldit leave thofe dwellings for a roof 
like mine, = F 
Where plaineft meals keen appetites appeafe, 
And where thou wilt not find one drop of 
wine ! atts 
Tis paffing ftrange ! jyet fhouldf thou perfe- 
vere, ~ 
And rack thefe bones with agonizing 
pangss 
Firm as a rock thy tortures will Ibear, > 
And teach the affluent how to blunt thy 
fangs: ) . 
Yes! sbould# thou vifit me, capricious Gout, — 
Hard fare fhall be thy lot; by Jove, Pil ftarve 
thee out! ; , 
@DE 
