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In the pleasures the great man's possessions display,

Unenvied, I'll challenge my part;
For every fair object my eyes can survey,

Contributes to gladden my heart.

How vainly, through infinite trouble and strife,

Do many their labours employ, Since all that is truly delightful in life

Is what all, if they will, may enjoy.



Rose of this enchanted vale,

Why so lone and mournful;
Fairer than the dawn-star pale,

Why so chill and scornful.
“ I am not the rose” she said,

“ Sleep his lid is steeping, I am but a captive maid,

The rose's slumbers keeping.

Go! I fear that o'er his ear

Our heedless tones are creepingGo! nor let one accent fall,

His charming dreams dispelling, Go! 'tis sacred stillness all

Thro' our mossy dwelling."


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But, tho' free to roam at

Youthful hopes impelling, I would be a captive still

In my rose's dwelling,
Now upon his arched brows,

In breathless bliss I ponder;
Now the music of his vows T. 1739"

Makes my senses wander. 1:7; *pasty
No charm to me were Libertys: : 17

I'm of thraldom fonder.! Go! nor let one accent fall,

His charmed dreams dispellingen Go! 'tis sacred stillness;ally bis!

Thro' our mossy dwellings



For many a wistful hour to pity dear,
A wanderer wove affections visions here,
Kiss'd the memorial form his bosom wore,
And look'd, till tears would let him look no more.
All that the heart at last might lean on-gone:
Yet madly did he languish–linger on :
Spent sighs to which no sympathy was given,
And pledg'd wild vows, unheard of all save heaven,
Went by the grave of love ; nor own'd despair,
Tho' not one flower of hope bloom'd palely there,
Her eye-bright herald of a better mind
Unkind, or only to the trifler kind
That eye, for which his own in tears was dim,
Glanc'd smiles on all, but would not smile on bim,

* These truly affecting lines, which we present to our readers, were discovered penciled on the shutter of a window in a room in Enniskillen, Ire land.

Whose heart alone, though broken, to conceal,
Could feel its fire-too deeply-finely feel
In wayward thrall, thus many a day went past,
But freedom came, his spirit rose at last,
Shook off the spell-march'd-mingl'd with the brave,
And sought a resting place in glory's grave.



Farewell, oh sweet hope! I have wept thee in sadness,

Thy bright star illumin'd life's gloomiest day: It rose on my soul like an angel of gladness,

And smild the dark clouds of misfortune away:

In youth every prospect by pleasure was bounded,

And joy was the portion that destiny gave; 'Twas puré as the lake by the mountains surrounded,

And warm as the sun-beam that danc'd on its waves

Thy visions were transient as mists of the morning,

They shone on my sight like the rainbow of eve; And the first tear of sorrow proclaim'd the sad warning,

Those visions were sent to betray and deceive

Peace, mild as the dew-drop descending at even,

Protected my bosom from sorrow and care,
But return’d to her throne in the mansion of heaven,

When each object was stamp'd by the hand of despair.

O'er the flowers of happiness wither'd and blighted,

Fond memory lingers, and mourns their decay; For the blossoms thy warmth and thy splendour delighted,

Expir'd in the hour that beheld thy last ray.



By the side of a mountain, o'ershadow'd with trees,

With thick clusters of vine, intermingl’d and wove, I behold my thatch'd cottage, dear mansion of ease,

The seat of contentment, of friendship, and love.

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