SONG.

O more shall hapless Celia's ears
Be fluttered with the cries

N°

Of lovers drowned in floods of tears,
Or murdered by her eyes;
No serenades to break her rest,

Nor songs her slumbers to molest,

With my fa, la, la.

The fragrant flowers that once would bloom And flourish in her hair,

Since she no longer breathes perfume

Their odours to repair,

Must fade, alas! and wither now,

As placed on any common brow,

With my fa, la, la.

Her lip, so winning and so meek,
No longer has its charms;
As well she might by whistling seek
To lure us to her arms;
Affected once, 'tis real now,

As her forsaken gums may show,

With my fa, la, la.

The down that on her chin so smooth
So lovely once appeared,

That, too, has left her with her youth,
Or sprouts into a beard;

As fields, so green when newly sown,
With stubble stiff are overgrown,

With my fa, la, la.

Then, Celia, leave your apish tricks,
And change your girlish airs,
For ombre, snuff, and politics,

Those joys that suit your years;
No patches can lost youth recall,
Nor whitewash prop a tumbling wall,
With my fa, la, la.

TH

A SONG.

HE sparkling eye, the mantling cheek,
The polished front, the snowy neck,

How seldom we behold in one!

Glossy locks, and brow serene,
Venus' smiles, Diana's mien,

All meet in you, and you alone.

Beauty, like other powers, maintains
Her empire, and by union reigns;

Each single feature faintly warms;
But where at once we view displayed
Unblemished grace, the perfect maid
Our eyes, our ears, our heart alarms.

So when on earth the god of day
Obliquely sheds his tempered ray,

Through convex orbs the beams transmit, The beams that gently warmed before, Collected, gently warm no more,

But glow with more prevailing heat.

A SONG.

N the green margin of the brook Despairing Phyllida reclined, Whilst every sigh, and every look, Declared the anguish of her mind.

Am I less lovely then? (she cries,
And in the waves her form surveyed);
yes, I see my languid eyes,

Oh

My faded cheek, my colour fled;

These eyes no more like lightning pierced,
These cheeks grew pale, when Damon first
His Phyllida betrayed.

The rose he in his bosom wore,

How oft upon my breast was seen!
And when I kissed the drooping flower,
Behold, he cries, it blooms again!
The wreaths that bound my braided hair,
Himself next day was proud to wear
At church, or on the green.

While thus sad Phyllida lamented,
Chance brought unlucky Thyrsis on :
Unwillingly the nymph consented,
But Damon first the cheat begun.
She wiped the fallen tears away,

Then sighed and blushed, as who should say,
Ah! Thyrsis, I am won.

THE CERTAINTY OF DEATH.

M

ORTALS! around your destined heads
Thick fly the shafts of Death,

And lo! the savage spoiler spreads

A thousand toils beneath.

In vain we trifle with our fate;
Try every art in vain ;
At best we but prolong the date,
And lengthen out our pain.

Fondly we think all danger fled,
For death is ever nigh;
Outstrips our unavailing speed,
Or meets us as we fly.

Thus the wrecked mariner may strive
Some desert shore to gain,
Secure of life, if he survive

The fury of the main.

But there, to famine doomed a prey,
Finds the mistaken wretch,
He but escaped the troubled sea
To perish on the beach.

Since then in vain we strive to guard

Our frailty from the foe,

Lord, let me live not unprepared

To meet the fatal blow!

O

THE CASTAWAY.

BSCUREST night involved the sky,
The Atlantic billows roared,
When such a destined wretch as I,
Washed headlong from on board,
Of friends, of hope, of all berest,
His floating home for ever left.

No braver chief could Albion boast
Than he with whom he went,
Nor ever ship left Albion's coast
With warmer wishes sent.

He loved them both, but both in vain ;
Nor him beheld, nor her again,

Not long beneath the whelming brine,
Expert to swim, he lay;

Nor soon he felt his strength decline,
Or courage died away;

But waged with death a lasting strife,
Supported by despair of life.

He shouted; nor his friends had failed
To check the vessel's course,

But so the furious blast prevailed,
That pitiless perforce

They left their outcast mate behind,
And scudded still before the wind.

Some succour yet they could afford;
And, such as storms allow,

The cask, the coop, the floated cord,
Delayed not to bestow :

But he, they knew, nor ship nor shore,
Whate'er they gave, should visit more.