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But thou, with spirit frail and light,
Wilt shine awhile and pass away;
As glowworms sparkle through the night,
And dare not stand the test of day.

Alas! whenever folly calls

Where parasites and princes meet, (For cherish'd first in royal halls,

The welcome vices kindly greet,)

Ev'n now thou'rt nightly seen to add
One insect to the fluttering crowd;
And still thy trifling heart is glad

To join the vain, and court the proud.

There dost thou glide from fair to fair,
Still simpering on with eager haste,
As flies along the gay parterre,

That taint the flowers they scarcely taste.

But say, what nymph will prize the flame Which seems, as marshy vapors move, To flit along from dame to dame,

An ignis-fatuus gleam of love?

What friend for thee, howe'er inclin'd, Will deign to own a kindred care? Who will debase his manly mind,

For friendship every fool may share?

In time forbear; amidst the throng,
No more so base a thing be seen;

No more so idly pass along;

Be something, anything, but-mean

TO ******

WELL! thou art happy, and I feel That I should thus be happy too; For still my heart regards thy weal Warmly, as it was wont to do.

Thy husband's blest-and 'twill impart Some pangs to view his happier lot: But let them pass-Oh! how my heart Would hate him, if he loved thee not!

When late I saw thy favorite child,

I thought my jealous heart would break, But when th' unconscious infant smiled, I kiss'd it for its mother's sake.

I kiss'd it, and repress'd my sighs,
Its father in its face to see;
But then it had its mother's eyes,
And they were all to love and me.

Mary, adieu! I must away:

While thou art blest I'll not repine, But near thee I can never stay; My heart would soon again be thine.

I deem'd that time, I deem'd that pride Had quench'd at length my boyish flame, Nor knew, till seated by thy side,

My heart in all, save hope, the same.

Yet was I calm: I knew the time

My breast would thrill before thy look, But now to tremble were a crimeWe met, and not a nerve was shook.

I saw thee gaze upon my face,

Yet meet with no confusion there, One only feeling could'st thou trace, The sullen calmness of despair.

Away! away! my early dream,

Remembrance never must awake, Oh! where is Lethe's fabled stream? My foolish heart be still, or break.

FROM THE PORTUGUESE.

IN moments to delight devoted,

"My life!" with tend'rest tone, you cry, Dear words! on which my heart had doted, If youth could neither fade nor die. To death even hours like these must roll,

Ah! then repeat those accents never, Or change "my life!" into "my soul!" Which, like my love, exists for ever.

IMPROMTU, IN REPLY TO A FRIEND

WHEN from the heart where Sorrow sits, Her dusky shadow mounts too high, And o'er the changing aspect flits,

And clouds the brow, or fills the eye,

Heed not that gloom, which soon shall sink: My thoughts their dungeon know too well; Back to my breast the wanderers shrink, And droop within their silent cell.

ADDRESS,

SPOKEN AT THE OPENING OF DRURY-LANE THEA TRE, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 10, 1812.

IN one dread night our city saw, and sigh'd, Bow'd to the dust, the Drama's tower of pride; In one short hour beheld the blazing fane, Apollo sink, and Shakspeare cease to reign.

Ye who beheld, (oh! sight admired and mourn'd,
Whose radiance mock'd the ruin it adorn'd!)
Through clouds of fire the massy fragments riven,
Like Israel's pillar, chase the night from heaven;
Saw the long column of revolving flames

Shake its red shadow o'er the startled Thames,
While thousands, throng'd around the burning dome,
Shrank back appall'd, and trembled for their home,
As glared the volumed blaze, and ghastly shone
The skies, with lightnings awful as their own,
Till blackening ashes and the lonely wall
Usurp'd the Muse's realm, and mark'd her fall;

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