1805. ] 
The unmark’d dew I'll tread: 
Wll hie me to the new fhorn fields, 
Beat for the game their ftubble fhields, 
While yet on feed they’re {pread. 
Here while my dog, fagacious brute, 
Quarters his ground with ceafelefs foot, 
And quettions every wind ; 
Tho? he fhall fail to find his game, 
No fpot untried, to me the fame, 
Since thee I’m fure to find. 
Oft too, when morning’s dufky fky 
Foretells that Reynard foon mutt die, 
Impatient for the race, 
T'll hatte unto the covert’s fide, 
Where meet thy ruddy fons, thy pride, 
And woo thee in the chafe. 
Charm’d by thefe fports, if thou attend, 
Sweet nymph ! unto life’s lateft end, 
I afk not power, nor wealth: 
Content Vil poverty endure, 
If any one imagines poor 
The man that’s rich in health. 
Manchefter, Fune 26, 1804. Ly 
For the Monthly Magazine. 
WHILE the madly raging nations 
Ruth on to furious fight, 
Tll.feek the filver moonbeam, 
And wander by its light. 
Beneath yon hanging ruin, 
Where the fcreech-owl fits on high, 
I'll forget the clangous trumpet, 
And the fhout of Victory! 
Vile is the field of flaughter, 
And vile the trade of blood ; 
Henc2! parafites and tyrants, 
Ambition is your god! ~ 
To me the filent nightfall, 
And curfew’s foothing knell, 
And found of diftant waters, 
Delightful itories tell. 
What time the chilling fhadows 
Creep o’er the dufky vale, 
What time the diftant mountain 
Puts on his thickeft veil, 
What time the poet’s phrenzy 
Darts from his radiant eye, 
Ill defpife the clangous trumpet, 
And the fhout of Victory ! 
Yet dare the fons of rapine 
Ever feek my country’s fhore, 
And Peace with holy anthems 
Delight my dale no more ; 
Oh, then, with every Briton, 
To thield my home, Ill fly 
To hail the clangous trumpet, 
And the fhout of Victory * 
London. W.A, 
ae 
THE PARTING. 
FROM METASTASIO. 
"THE fatal hour is come at laft, 
Adieu! my love, adieu ! 
How will my wretched life be palty 
Far exil’d from thy view * 
x 
Original Poetry. 517 
My heart will droop in endlefs pain, 
No joy my eyes will fee ; 
But thou—who knows if e’er again 
Thou wilt remember me. 
Permit, at leaft, in eager chace 
Of every comfort loft, 
My thoughts thywand’ring fteps may trace 
Through all the diftant coaft ! . 
Near to thy fide, by fancy’s aid, ; 
I ftill fhall follow thee ; 
But who can tell ifonce, dear maid! 
Thou wilt remember me? 
O’er plains remote, and unknown floods, 
Alone and fad I'll rove ; 
And afk the defert rocks and woods, 
Oh ! where—oh! where’s my love? 
From night till morn, from morn till night, 
I ftiil fhall callon thee ; 
But when, oh when! my heart’s delight! 
Wilt thou remember me? 
V1l vitit oft the blifsful bowers, 
And fields of chearful hue, 
Where happy flew uncounted hours, 
Becaufe with thee they flew: 
What fond regrets my heart will tear, 
When memory dwells on thee! 
But who can tell, fweet maid! if e’er 
Thou wilt remember me? 
Lo! I will fay, the fountain’s edge, 
Where quick with fcorn the glow’d 3 
But foon, of peace the geatle pledge, 
Her lity hand beftow’d ; 
Here hope reviv’d, foft languor there 
Allow’d my tender plea; 
But now, who knows, aias! if e’er 
Thou wilt remember me ! 
How many round thy new-fouzht home 
The beauteous ftranger greet ! 
What crowds of youthful lovers come, 
And offer at thy feet! 
Oh ! ’mid the fuppliant courtly throng, 
That figh and bend the knee, 
Oh! who can tell, bright maid! how long 
Thou wilt remember me ! 
Think of the keen delicious dart 
Thou leav*ft within my breatt' 5 
Think that I long have given my heart, 
Nor made one poor requetft : 
Think what I feel of dark defpair, 
Thus parting, love! from thee : 
Remember—ah ! who knows if e’er 
Thou wilt remember me ? 
J. A- 
wee 
TO: SLEEP. 
ENTLE Power of downy flumbers, 
Hear a lone and haplefs maid, 
By the fcornfui world deferted, 
Wrap me in thy peaceful fhade. 
Long in vain thefe eyes have fought thee, 
Come, and bring the wifh’d relief; 
Come, and footh my tortur’d bofom, 
Sick at once of love and grief, 
O’er 
