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When, to their airy hall, my Fathers' voice
Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice;
When, pois’d upon the gale, my form shall ride,
Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain's side ;
Oh! may my shade behold no sculptur'd urns,
To mark the spot where earth to earth returns :
No lengthen'd scroll, no praise-encumber'd stone;
My epitaph shall be my name alone :
If that with honour fail to crown my clay,
Oh! may no other fame
l'epay ; That, only that, shall single out the spot, By that remember'd, or with that forgot.
When Friendship or Love
Our sympathies move;
When Truth, in a glance, should appear's
The lips may beguile
With a dimple or smile,
But the test affection's a Tear
Too oft is a smile
But the hypocrite's wile, To mask detestation, or fear;
Give me the soft sigb,
Whilst the soul-telling eye
Is dimm'd, for a time, with a Tear.
Mild Charity's glow,
To us mortals below,
Shews the soul from barbarity clear ,
Compassion will melt
Where this virtue is felt,
And its dew is diffus d in a Tear.
man, doom'd to sail
With the blast of the gale,
Through billows Atlantic to steer;
As he bends o'er the
wave, Which may soon be his grave, The green sparkles bright with a Tear.
The Soldier braves death,
For a fanciful wreath,
In Glory's romantic career;
But he raises the foe,
When in battle laid low, And bathcs ev'ry wound with a Tear.
If, with high-bounding pride,
He return to his bride,
Renouncing the gore-crimson'd spear;
All his toils are repaid,
When, embracing the maid, From her eyelid he kisses the Tear.
Sweet scene of my youth,
Seat of Friendship and Truth,
Where Love chas'd each fast-fleeting year;
Loth to leave thee, I mourn'd,
For a last look I turn'd, But thy spire was scarce seen through a Tear.
Though my vows I can pour
my Mary no more,
My Mary, to Love once so dear;
In the shade of her bow'r,
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,
Ere from you I depart,
This hope to my breast is most near ;
If again we shall meet,
In this rural retreat,
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,
Ob! moisten their dust with a Tear.
May no marble bestow
The splendour of woe,
Which the children of vanity rear;
No fiction of fame
Shall blazon my name :
All I ask, all I wish, is a Tear.
Delivered previous to the performance of « The Wheel of
Fortune , » at a private theatre.
Since the refinement of this polish'd age
Has swept immoral raillery from the stage ;
Since taste has now expung'd licentious wit,
Which stamp'd disgrace on all an Author writ;
Since, now, to please with purer scenes we seek,
Nor dare to call the blush from Beauty's cheek ;
Oh! let the modest Muse sonie pity claim,
.And meet indulgence, though she find not fame.
Still, not for her alone we wish respect,
conscious of defect;
To night, no vetran Roscii you behold,
In all the arts of scenic action old ;
No Cooke, no Kemble, can salute you bere,
No Sippons draw the sympathetic tear;
To-night, you throng to witness the debut
Of embryo actors, to the drama new;
Here, then, our almost unfledg’d wings we try;
Clip not our pinions, ere the birds can fly;
Failing in this our first attempt to soar,
Drooping, alas ! we fall to rise no more.
Not one poor trembler, only, fear betrays,
Who hopes, yet almost dreads, to meet your praise,
But all our Dramatis Persona wait,
In fond suspense, this crisis of their fate.
No venal views our progress can retard,
Your generous plaudits are our sole reward;
For these, each hero all his power displays,
Each timid heroine slirinks before your gaze :