What if thy deep and ample stream should be What do I say-a mirror of my heart? Such as my feelings were and are, thou art; Time may have somewhat tamed them, not Thou overflowst thy banks, and not for aye; away But left long wrecks behind them, and again Fill the goblet again, for I never before Felt the glow that now gladdens my heart to its core: Let us drink-who would not? since, thro' life's varied round, In the goblet alone no deception is found. I have tried in its turn all that life can supply; I have bask'd in the beams of a dark rolling eye; I have lov'd-who has not? but what tongue will declare That pleasure existed while passion was there? The current I behold will sweep beneath breathe She will look on thee: I have look'd on thee, moment ne'er Thy waters could I dream of, name or see, stream; Yes, they will meet the wave I gaze on now: in its spring, And dreams that affection can never take I had friends,-who has not? but what thou? The breast of a mistress some boy may Friendship shifts with the sun-beam,-thou never canst change. Yet if blest to the utmost that love can When, the season of youth and its jollities When the box of Pandora was opened on And Memory's triumph commenced over Hope was left And care not was she not? but the goblet we kiss, for hope, who are certain of bliss. is flown, Long life to the grape! and when summer | Few and short were the prayers we said, The age of our nectar shall gladden my own. And we bitterly thought of the morrow. In the grave where a Briton has laid him But half of our heavy task was done, When the clock told the hour for retiring; And we heard by the distant and random gu, That the foe was suddenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory. EL F 651 My Fathers! the tears of your country re- | No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep, dress ye; How you fought! how you died! still her annals can tell. But living statues there are seen to weep; Affliction's semblance bends not o'er thy tomb, Affliction's self deplores thy youthful doom. Yet other offspring soothe his anguish here: But, who with me shall hold thy former place? Thine image, what new friendship can efface? Ah, none! a father's tears will cease to flow, Time will assuage an infant-brother's woe; To all, save one, is consolation known, While solitary Friendship sighs alone. A FRAGMENT. 1803. No lengthen'd scroll, no praise-encumber'd My epitaph shall be, my name alone: 1803. EPITAPH ON A FRIEND. Αστερ πριν μεν ελαμπες ενι ζωοισιν έωος. LAERTIUS. On! Friend! for ever loved, for ever dear! What fruitless tears have bathed thy honour'd bier! What sighs re-echo'd to thy parting breath, While thou wast struggling in the pangs of death! Could tears retard the tyrant in his course; Could sighs avert his dart's relentless force; Could youth and virtue claim a short delay, Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey; Thou still hadst lived, to bless my aching sight, Thy comrade's honour, and thy friend's delight. If, yet, thy gentle spirit hover nigh lie, Here wilt thou read, recorded on my heart, A grief too deep to trust the sculptor's art. For a last look I turn'd, Which the children of vanity rear; No fiction of fame Shall blazon my name, All I ask, all I wish, is a Tear. ON THE DEATH OF MR. FOX The following illiberal Impromptu appeared in a Morning-Paper. "OUR Nation's foes lament on Fox's death, But bless the hour when PITT resign'd his breath; These feelings wide, let Sense and Truth unclue, We give the palm where Justice points it due. " To which the Author of these Pieces sent the following Reply. OH! factious viper! whose envenom'd tooth Would mangle still the dead, perverting truth; What, though our "nation's foes" lament the fate, With generous feeling, of the good and great; Shall dastard tongues essay to blast the name But thy spire was scarce seen through a Tear. Of him, whose meed exists in endless fame! Though my vows I can pour, To my Mary no more, My Mary, to Love once so dear; In the shade of her bower, I remember the hour, She rewarded those vows with a Tear. By another possest, May she live ever blest, Her name still my heart must revere; With a sigh I resign, What I once thought was mine, And forgive her deceit with a Tear. Ye friends of my heart, May we meet, as we part, with a Tear. When my soul wings her flight, To the regions of night, And my corse shall recline on its bier; As ye pass by the tomb, Where my ashes consume, Oh! moisten their dust with a Tear. May no marble bestow The splendour of woe, When PITT expired, in plenitude of power, To give the palm where Justice points it due;" Yet let not canker'd calumny assail, Or round our statesman wind her gloomy veil. Fox! o'er whose corse a mourning world must weep, Whose dear remains in honour'd marble sleep, For whom, at last, e'en hostile nations groan, While friends and foes alike his talents own, Fox shall, in Britain's future annals, shine, Nor e'en to PITT the patriot's palm resign, Which Envy, wearing Candour's sacred mask. For PITT, and PITT alone, has dared to asi AN OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE, delivered previous to the performance of "The Wheel of Fortune," at a private theatre. SINCE the refinement of this polish'd age Since, now, to please with purer scenes we seek, Nor dare to call the blush from Beauty's cheek; Oh! let the modest Muse some pity claim, And meet indulgence though she find not fame. Still, not for her alone we wish respect, Clip not our pinions, ere the birds can fly; But all our Dramatis Personæ wait, Surely, the last will some protection find, The sternest Censor to the fair must yield. Yet should our feeble efforts nought avail, Should, after all, our best endeavours fail; Still, let some mercy in your bosoms live, And, if you can't applaud, at least forgive. Then read, dear Girl, with feeling read, He was, in sooth, a genuine bard; His was no faint fictitious flame; Like his, may love be thy reward, But not thy hapless fate the same. TO M • • OH! did those eyes, instead of fire, That fatal glance forbids esteem. When nature stamp'd thy beauteous birth, Therefore, to guard her dearest work, Lest angels might dispute the prize, She bade a secret lightning lurk Within those once celestial eyes. These might the boldest sylph appal, When gleaming with meridian blaze; Thy beauty must enrapture all, But who can dare thine ardent gaze? 'Tis said, that Berenice's hair In stars adorns the vault of heaven; But, they would ne'er permit thee there, Thou wouldst so far outshine the seven. For, did those eyes as planets roll, Thy sister-lights would scarce appear: E'en suns, which systems now controul, Would twinkle dimly through their sphere. 1 STANZAS TO A LADY. With the Poems of Camoens. Who blames it, but the envious fool, TO WOMAN. WOMAN! experience might have told me, |