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Contented with her own.
SONG-BY A WOMAN.
Each day, each hour, her name I'll bless,
MAN SPEAKER. The hardy veteran after struck the sight, Scarr'd, mangled, maim'd in every part, Lopp'd of his limbs in many a gallant fight, In nought entire—except his heart : Mute for a while, and sullenly distress’d, At last the impetuous sorrow fired his breast. Wild is the whirlwind rolling O’er Afric's sandy plain, And wild the tempest howling Along the billow'd main : But every danger felt before, The raging deep, the whirlwind's roar, Less dreadful struck me with dismay, Than what I feel this fatal day. Oh, let me fly a land that spurns the brave, Oswego's dreary shores shall be my grave; I'll seek that less in hospitable coast, And lay my body where my limbs were lost.
SONG. BY A MAN— BASSO SPIRITUOSO.
WOMAN SPEAKER. In innocence and youth complaining, Next appear'd a lovely maid, Affliction o'er each feature reigning, Kindly came in beauty's aid; Every grace that grief dispenses, Every glance that warms the soul, In sweet succession charms the senses, While pity harmonized the whole • The garland of beauty' ('tis thus she would say,) • No more shall my crook or my temples adorn, I'll not wear a garland, Augusta's away, I'll not wear a garland until she return : But alas! that return I never shall see: The echoes of Thames shall my sorrows proclaim, There promised a lover to come, but, oh me! 'Twas death, 'twas the death of my mistress that
came. But ever, for ever, her image shall last,
3 These lines altered from Collins's Ode on the Death of Col. Ross.
I'll strip all the spring of its earliest bloom ;
SONG. BY Á WOMAN-PASTORALE. With garlands of beauty the queen of the May No more will her crook or her temples adorn; For who'd wear a garland when she is away, When she is remov’d, and shall never return.
On the grave of Augusta these garlands be plac'd,
CHORUS— ALTRO MODO. * On the grave of Augusta this garland be plac'd, We'll rifle the spring of its earliest bloom, And there shall the cowslip and primrose be cast, And the tears of her country shall water her tomb.
4 • Each opening sweet of earliest bloom,
Collins's Dirge in Cymbeline.
LINES ATTRIBUTED TO DR. GOLDSMITH,
INSERTED IN THE MORNING CHRONICLE
OP APRIL 3, 1800.
E’en have you seen, bath'd in the morning dew,
The budding rose its infant bloom display: When first its virgin tints unfold to view,
It shrinks, and scarcely trusts the blaze of day.
So soft, so delicate, so sweet she came,
cheek; I gaz’d, I sigh’d, I caught the tender flame, Felt the fond pang, and droop'd with passion :
THE FOLLOWING POEMS HAVE NEVER BEEN INCORPORATED WITH THE PRECEDING
ONES OF GOLDSMITH.
(See Citizen of the World, ii. 87). It is the business of the stage poet to watch the appearance of every new player at his own house, and so come out next day with a flaunting copy of newspaper verses. In these nature and the actor may be set to run races, the player always coming off victorious: or nature may mistake him for herself; or old Shakespeare may put on his winding sheet, and pay him a visit, or the tuneful Nine may strike up their harps in his praise ; or should it happen to be an actress, Venus, the beauteous Queen of Love, and the naked graces, are ever in waiting. The lady must be herself a goddess bred and born; she must but you shall have a specimen of one of these poems, which may convey a more precise idea.
ON SEEING MRS. • * PERFORM IN THE
CHARACTER OF * * *.*.
For you, bright fair, the Nine address their lays,