472 
Inshumble Ive my fate was cast, 
In peaceful scenes I grew; 
But conscious virtue decked the past, 
And Hepe, bright prospects drew. 
The fairy syren bade me leok 
On scenes of future joy ; 
‘Then quick the magic landscape took, 
And steeped it in alloy. 
But grief for ** hope deferred” ne’er held, 
Its influence o’et my mind ; 
Religion’s charms my bosom swelled, 
And banished all in wind. 
That power xtherial graced my cot; 
Her energies civine 
Upheld me in my lowly lot, 
And bade the gloom to shine. 
Knutsford, 
flay 27, 1807. 
A. 
ae 
ON A RED-BREAST. 
AMID the storm, disorder’d high in air 
It chanc’d a solitary red-breast flew;4 
Full soon alas! hurl’d on the weedy plain- 
The little love-bird gleam*d upon my view. 
Soft from the ground its storm-beat form I 
Tais’d 
And fruitless strove to warm it in my 
breast 5 
The cold, cold hand of death it’s veins had 
chill’d 
And giv’n the gem of life eternal rest. 
Jn vain it bent its head. on breast reclin’d, 
Tn vajn it bent so low its charming head ;, 
In vain, so late ef heaven-born freedom 
proud, 
O’er daisied fields its airy pinions spread. 
Close to the body clung the drooping wing, 
The tuneful pipe, and flow’ry tread were 
Ors 
Forc’d by the ruffian blast, and- ruthless 
storm, 
It dxoop’d, it sunk, it died, to rise no more, 
Sweet bird! no more shalt thou with swell- 
ing throat 
Triumphant greet the morning’s orient ray; 
No more shalt proudly life th’ exulting 
crest, 
Wo more shalt dance upon the tender spray. 
For me, would the expected hour were 
nigh, 
Delusive hour, to me thou dost not come 3 
Ah, erring griet! still must I crave thy 
aid, 
To lull my sorrows in the silent tomb! 
YWERAD. 
Original Poetry. 
(Dec: er, 
SONNET, 
WRITTEN IN OLD AGE. 
GLOW beats my pulse, and passion’s fervid 
ray, 
Cool’d with satiety, fades hour by hour 
Sure sign that life hastes swittly to decay; 
For waning suns each moment lose their 
pow’r, 
Then hail, Mnemosyne! the task be thine, - 
Ere down life’s rapid tide I sail no more, 
T° examine well what precious jewels shine 
Amid the freight my vessel wafts to shore. 
Ah no! mute Warner, hence !—for, taught 
by thee, 
(Tho long I've toil’d of cruel storms the 
sport, ) 
Gemless, alas, my lading seems to be, 
Worthless the vessel I conduct to port. 
Hola, hold! rask Muse—for still my cables 
bear 
Hope's heavenly anchor, gem beyond com- 
pare! £4 auf 
See ed 
CANTATA. 
S thro’ smiling vallies I stray, 
Remorse follows close on my trace; 
Every flow’r that enameisthe way, 
But proves me unthankful and base, 
The bounty of God I descry 
In each varied production of earth ; 
Yet nor these, nor yon dayestar on high, 
In my bosom give thankfulness birth, 
Pride whispers: ‘* Such gifts are thy due; 
As a tribute receive them from heay’n ; - 
The talent of poesy too, 
To heighten thy pleasures was giv’n.” 
Insensate!—-Let shame dye my cheek! 
Sweet poesy’s harp I'll resign ; 
Or make the lov’d instrument speak. 
In praise of it’s donor divine. 
Hail, then, nymph with ardent eyes, 
Fix’d ever onthy native skies ! 
Bail, seraphic Gratitude ! 
By thee inspir’d, these fingers rude 
Shail boldly sweep the fervour-kindling 
string, 
In praise of Heav’ns all-kind; all-bounteous 
King. 
And while I chant his mercies here be- 
low, 
While yet encumber’d with this mortal clod, 
Shall my rapt soul the joy of angels 
know, 
The bliss of holding converse with it’s God, 
as Lise 
