There sleeps beneath that chilling sod,
One, blythely innocent as you,
Who erst the stage of being trod,
And all its warmest transports knew.

But ere the genial hour had past,
While yet the morning sweetly smiled,
Her sun of peace was overcast,

And rudely lower'd the tempest wild!

Sacred the bounds, that now contain
What once could tenderest joys inspire;
Here, let Repose eternal reign,

Here, Love and Friendship oft retire.

Fresh o'er this earth the green-grass wave;
And, softening here, ye tempests sigh;

"Tis sweet ELIZA's early grave:

Here Youth and Love and Beauty lie!

EPITAPH ON ELIZA.

WHILE o'er this turf in mingled sadness bend,
The honoured parent, and the early friend,
ELIZA, See! upon thy vernal tomb,

One wreath, in which thy memory yet shall bloom.
Dear, sainted shade!-calm be this hallowed rest,
Calm as the virtues of thy spotless breast;
Till, through the dreary regions of the dust,
Benignly break the Morning of the Just!

P. L. C.

SONNET.

OCCASIONED BY DISENGAGING A MARTLET FROM THE JAWS OF A CAT.

BY T. PARK, ESQ.

HERALD of Summer! hapless was the flight
From thy mud hermitage or chimnied cell,
To skim the streamlet where, since dawn of light,
In the long spear-grass lurk'd grimalkin fell;
For while in airy cirque thy rapid wing

Fann'd the young swarms that hover near the flood, Yon dark assassin, at one deadly spring,

Fix'd his strong talons in thy innocent blood!

Nor ever can thy shatter'd pinion tower

To milder climes when wintry white-frosts chill,

Nor hither flit at April's balmy hour

To mould thy matted nest with plastic bill:Like some sad alien from Gallia's shore,

Here wert thou exil'd, to return no more!

SONNET.

Written extempore, at the request of a Lady, for a Valentine.

BY CHARLES LEFTLY, ESQ.

Dost thou pass sleepless nights, by day-light rove
To dusky thickets to indulge thy tears?

Dost thou remember nothing but thy love,

Now burn with ardent hopes, now chill with freezing

Perchance thy mistress treats thy suit with scorn,
Canst thou at night her company forswear,
Yet lay beneath her window till the morn,

Regardless of the shrewd and biting air?
Caust thou for her brave poverty and pain,
A parent's anger, and the world's disdain;
And may she hope thy fondness to engage
Though pale with sickness, and deform'd with age?
If so, then seek her, wishful to be thine,

For thou and none but thou shalt be her VALENTINE,

SONNET.

TO MR. WESTALL.

BY CHARLES LEFTLY, ESQ.

WESTALL, I wish'd to steal into Fame's graces,
And oft I tried, but tried alas in vain;
The fickle goddess fled from my embraces,
So now I crave your help my suit to gain;
For on her shrine your hand such offerings places
As she can never look on with disdain;

She loves each object that your pencil traces,
And hangs your harp up in her sacred fane.
Then, since all grace and gentleness possessing,
You suffer me no common boon to claim,
Grant me this wish'd for and distinguish'd blessing,
First on your list of friends to write my name :

So do I guess, if I have skill in guessing,

To get admitted to the porch of Fame.

O THOU! for whom my verse has often flow'd
In strains of woe to thy fraternal name,
For whom my bosom with affection glow'd,
While thou wast tenant of thy mortal frame;

For thee that bosom still remains the same,

Tho' many a spring has deck'd, with flow'rs, thy

grave,

Time rolls his years; but loses still his aim
T'impair the deep impressions nature gave.
Thine image can each present object brave,
And prove remembrance stronger far than
Fraternal love can never cease to crave

The tender tribute of regret intense.

sense.

Tho' hoary age should tell my hundredth year,
Thy name shall still be mention'd with a tear!