1807.] 
Trust me, the weary way Is past, 
And inte less’ning distance cast, 
Is ev'ry tow’ring hill; 
Soon shall we reach our peaceful home, 
And in the thought of joys to come, 
Forget this transient ill. 
I know °tis not alone your harm, 
But alla parent’s fond alarm,~’ 
Swells your maternal breast ; 
Nay, my sweet infant, cease to cry, 
To your fond mother nestle-nigh, 
And hush your cares to rest. 
Though the bleak wind with envious haste 
Impels us o’er the dreary waste, 
And howls along the plain 5 
Ah, think on those who, ’mid this night, 
Are helpless tost, with wild affright, 
Upon’ the stormy main. 
Think how each eye with horror dwells, 
Where every wave destruction swells, © 
And raging winds controul ; 
While round the foaming surges rise, 
And, mounting to the darken’d skies, 
The threat’ning billows roll. 
Methinks I see the vessel tost, 
While to fond hope its inmates lost 
Look round with wan despair 5 
It sinks, it sinks, to rise no more ! 
Its shatter’d wrecks deface the shore, 
And wild shrieks rend the air! 
Save them, oh save them, hand divine ! 
Unbounded pow’r o’er all is thine, 
Oh save each sinking soul ! 
Oh guide them to the friendly shore, 
Where stormy winds shall rage no more, © 
Nor ocean’s billows roll! 
Yet why that deeply-troubled look ? 
Why with such inward grief is shook 
Your agitated frame ? 
These scenes of woe, of deep despair, 
These shrieks that rend the frighted air, 
To us are but a name. 
Though storms may sweep the dreary heathy 
No roaring ocean threatens death 
Amid the dark abyss 3 
Our woes will shortly disappear, 
Comfort’s bright rays will banish fear, 
4.nd sorrow yield to bliss. 
E’en now we reach the friendly wood, 
Beneath whose shade our cot has stood, 
The storms of many a year ; 
Revive, my love, our home is nigh; 
Nor pain my heart with that deep sigh, 
That anguish-speaking tear. 
See our lov’d cot, whose lowly roof 
No grating sounds of harsh reproof, 
No discord ever knew ! 
Its humble walls, its pleasing shade, 
Seem by the kindred virtues made, 
For happiness, and you. 
Monrury Mas, No, 157. 
Original Poetry. 
465 
Our chearful fire, that long’d-for sight, 
Already thro’ the casement bright, 
, Shines from the blazing hearth ; 
Receive our thanks, oh Pow’r divine! 
To thee our service we resign, 
Direct our future path ! . 
Clapham Common: HW. Be 
: = 
DISAPPOINTMENT, 
IMITATION OF MOPERN POETRY. 
Nor a breeze crisp’d the leaves of the 
bow’r, 
Not a murmur was heard through the air, 
As with twilight approach’d the blest hour 
Love had fix’d for a sight of my fair. 
Expectation had flush’d ev’ry nerve, 
While on tiptoe I listen’d ardund, 
Not asoul could my glances observe, 
Not a footstep was heard on the ground. 
Ew’ry object now faded from sight, 
While my thoughts were still fix’d on my 
love, 
O’er my fancy they beam’d such a light, 
That I mark’d not the darkness above, 
How my heart beat its cell in my breast, 
As the form of a female I spied, 
Till in rapture to feel myself blest, 
I resolv’d for a moment to hide. 
Then I heard how she eagerly sought, 
To discover the nook where I lay, 
Till I felt so transported, I thought, 
Her desires were increas’d by delay. 
Round the bow’r she repeatedly mov'd, 
Like an angel that fancy creates, 
- When I rush’d and exclaim’d,—‘¢ My bee 
lov’d !?? 
And it hoarsely replied ‘¢ Supper waits.” 
A.B.E. 
~2S E \ 
ELEGY, 
TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. MARY RUS-@ 
SELL RICKMAN, OF BARCOMBE, SUS~ 
SEX} WHO DIED ON THE 28th oF 
APRIL, 18075 AGED 82 YEARS. 
When Old Time led thee to thy end, | e 
Goodness, and thee, fill’d up one monument. 
Shakespeare. — 
S AY, ina world, where vice, and folly reigny 
Where noise and falshood drown the voice 
of truth 5 
Where dire corruption seizes e’en the plain, 
And spreading cities, poison age and youth | 
Where wealth and riot, with unfeeling eye, 
See want contiguous, lay bright merit low 5 
Hear unreliev’d or poverty the sigh ; 
Nér take from out their hoard, to lessen 
woe $ 
Where war’s wide wasting scourge with 
ruthless ire, 
Sweeps millions yearly from the face of day ; 
And leaves the groaning orphan, wife and 
sire, : 
Te penury, to grief, and tears, a prey ; 
30 Say, 
