456 
ON A LADY’S APARTMENT. 
GACRED to filence and ferene repofe, 
With dreams of blifs, be Anna’s lonely 
room : 
Her flumbers fweet, as when the fleeping 
rofe 
From dews of fummer borrows frefh per- 
fume! 
Peace fmooths her pillow in the fhades of 
night} 
And Love in graceful ringlets braids her 
hair ; 
While Hope to her reveals the dawning light, 
Joy ferenades her with the morning air. 
When on the margin of the billowy main 
My lovely darling nightly finks to reft, 
If ftill the image of her abfent fwain 
Be kindly cherifh’d in her faithful breat, 
The brook, the river, fhall refound his ftrain, 
Enraptured, like the mufic of the bleft. 
RIVERAIN. 
ee 
THE OUTCAST. 
BY LAURA SOPHIA TEMPLE. 
WHEN fun-beams bid the world adieu, 
And ev’ning gales their flight purfue, 
Slow o’er the heath I wend my way, 
To mufe upon the golden day 
Of hopes for ever flown. 
The infant {miles of blufhing May, 
The birds that carol on the fpray, 
Can boaft no charms to Sorrow’s child 5 
For Fancy weaves her vifions wild, 
And fings of vanifh’d hours. 
Then does her bold advent’rous hand 
(Ne’er under Reafon’s fage command) 
Lift the myfterious awful veil, 
That hides the dark and blotted tale 
Of moments yet to come, 
Now does fhe guide my wand’ring eye 
O’er times perplex’d, and wat’ry fky ; 
Spreads to my glance the features dark— 
E’en all the dufky tints that mark 
The tiffue of my fate. 
Oft have I liften’d to the theme 
That fpeaks of youth’s enchanting dream 5 
Oft have I fmil’d to hear its praife, 
For J thall never feel the rays 
That waits upon its morn. 
Where are the joys, the mantling joys, . 
The dimpled loves, with laughing eyes 
The hopes that foar on airy wing, 
And o’er the fcene rich magic fling, 
Stealing the tints of truth? 
When Night’s dull wing, with fhadowy 
{weep, 
In darknefs veils the world of fleep 5 
Or when the moon’s affrighted eye 
Peeps through the wild embattl’d fky, 
Silv’ring the rough cloud’s edge 5 
Tis then I face the piercing wind 5 
What fhelter can an outcaft find? 
Original Poetry. 
[June l, 
-Tis then that *mid@ the whiftling blaft, 
The while the beating rain falls fait, 
I tread my weary way. 
How oft when journeying o’er the plaing 
My fad heart torn by grief and pain, 
While o’er my cheeks the cold gale blows, 
(That cheek whence care has chas’d the rofe 
That once fo gaily bloom’d) ; 
Around I throw my eager gaze, 
And view the ghofts of other days 
Hurrying on the North’s bleak wing— 
They come—they come—I hear them fing 
Sad ftrains that mem’ry loves. 
‘ Blef fhades of all I once ador’d ! 
Of all I’ve worfhip’d and deplor’d! 
Ye whom the hand of death laid low, 
Dooming this heart to feela blow 
Greater than wreck of worlds ! 
As fome fair trees, whofe branching fhade 
Shelters the wild flower of the glade, 
So did ye fkreen my helplefs head, 
So did your arms their fhelter fpread, 
To fhield my youth from ill. 
But, lo! the angry tempeft came, 
And fiercely raged the lightning’s flame, 
Soon were my lovely trees laid low, 
And I was doom d to feel a blow 
Greater than wreck of worlds. 
Behold they beckon from the hill— 
They afk, why dere I linger ftill >— 
I come—the ftorm will foon be paft— 
My weary fun is fetting fait, 
And then—we meet once more. 
Chelfea, May 10th. 
ES 
THE FOUNDLING. 
On feeing a beautiful Infant, about a month 
old, in the arms of a Lady, at whofe doot 
it had been left about nine o’clock on 
Sunday Evening, March 25, 1804, neatly 
clothed, and carefully wrapped to defend 
it from cold :—accompanied alfo by a Let- 
ter, in which were ftrongly pourtrayed 
the grief and diftraétion of the unhappy 
Mother,’ on being compelled thus to 
abandon her Child ; and earneftly implor- 
ing, on its behalf, that protection which, 
from defertion and diftrefs of circumftan- 
ces, it was no longer in her own power to 
afford, 
QE! whata piteous fight is there! 
The helplefs victim of Defpair, 
In Mercy’s lap reclin’d. 
Poor, blamelefs, blighted child of woe! 
Thou doft not yet thy fuff’rings know, 
Nor know thy patrons kind. 
Alas! what guilt, or mifery hard, ~ 
Could quench a mother’s fond regard, 
Could fever Nature’s ties? 
Could drop, forfaken and forlorn, 
Her fon, her fuckling, newly born, 
- To pain a ftranger’s eyes ? 
Perhapsy 
_ 
