Intent with curious eye, I pore I turn the Chian-minstrel's page, There, brutal Diomed appears; Oft, rapt by Ariosto's verse, Or his who sang on Mulla's shore, I combat firm, with monsters fierce, Rush to where swells the battle's roar; Or wondering stray through fairy bowers, Through trophied halls, and moss-clad towers. Lo, Shakespeare waves his potent wand: Sons of past years before me glide: With tender Petrarch, sad, I weep; The realms of woe with Dante dare: On yenturous wing, with Milton sweep Heaven's arch, and breathe inspiring air; Or, hurried to the Boreal clime, I trace the mystic Runic-rhyme. Thus charm'd, unmark'd each moment steals, And, glowing with each favourite theme, Inglorious now, on silent wings, Thus moves day after day along; Sacred to Glory's awful charms, In rapid numbers call to arms! 1797. EPIGRAMS. CHARLES, grave or merry, at no lie would stick, He's brought the thing to such a pass, poor youth! Save when unluckily he tells the truth. An evil spirit's on thee, friend! of late- ΕΣΤΗΣΕ. 1 THE GREEN VEIL. SENT TO A LADY WITH HAMMOND'S POEMS. Ir I, fair Maid, in plaintive strain, F Confess no anxious lover's pain; Nor bid my sighing numbers flow, If, while the veil conceals your cheek, If sighs of fondness half repress'd, Nor o'er my brow, of pallid hue, And now, when unconcern'd and gay, BELIEVE me, dear girl, when I swear, Though the torments of Love you mayn't know, For Pity, though colder than snow, WINTER DEFEATED. IMITATED FROM BURGER. SEE, where stern WINTER'S icy hand The fields, their May-clothes lost, all naked stand; Their hues of red, white, blue, no more I see; Buried in snows they sleep-and live no more to me! Yet, flow'rets sweet, shall I for you The sorrowing strain indite, When I my lovely, loving charmer view In more than all your vernal beauties bright, With forehead white, red lip, and eyes of azure light? Ye blackbirds whistling thro' the vale, And sweet her breath as gales o'er hyacinth-beds that rove! When of her lips I taste the bliss, Full happiness I seem to meet : More rich to me the honey-breathing kiss Than mulberry fragrant, or than cherry sweet: What more, then, can I wish ?-In her fair spring I greet. |