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CCIV.

INVITATION.

Thou must not linger, lovely one,
Within thy bower, but come away;
The scowl of winter past and gone,
Now April sheds her mildest ray.

The lily, bending on its stem,

Waves graceful o'er the silver stream; Bedeck'd with many a bonny gem,

The fields glance in the morning beam.

Nurst by the genial sun and breeze,
And water'd by the kindly shower,

The blossom swells upon the trees,

The briar and broom put forth their flower.

Now frisk the lambs along the lea,

Or peaceful brouze the tender blade; The nimble hares, in amorous glee,

Are sporting down the hawthorn glade.

The mingling concert of the grove,
Awakes to hail the vernal reign;
Each warbling voice, attun'd to love,
Blends in one soft harmonious strain.

We'll bend our steps to yonder hill,
Bespangl'd with the early dew;

Or stray where flows the murm'ring rill,
And all our youthful vows renew.

Thou must not linger, lovely one,
Within thy bower, but come away;
The scowl of winter past and gone,
Now April sheds his mildest ray.

CCV.

DRIED BE THAT TEAR.*

Dried be that tear, my gentlest love!

Be hush'd that struggling sigh,

*The author of this poctical effusion, was R. B. Sheridan, Esq;.-Hazlitt, in his critique on that eminent man, says, he has justly been called" a star of the first magnitude," and indeed among the Comic writers of the last century

Nor season's day, nor fate shall prove,
More fix'd, more true than I!

Hush'd be that sigh, be dried that tear;
Cease, boding doubt, cease, anxious fear.

Dost ask how long my vows shall stay,
When all that's new is past?
How long, my Delia! can I say,
How long my life will last?

Dried be that tear, be hush'd that sigh,
At least I'll love thee till I die.

And does that thought affect thee too,
The thought of Silvio's death;
That he, who only breathes for you,
Must yield that faithful breath?
Hush'd be that sigh, be dried that tear,

Nor let us lose our heaven while here.

he shines," like Hesperus among the lesser lights." He has left four excellent Dramas behind him, all different, or of different kinds, and all excellent in their way, viz. the School for Scandal, the Rivals, the Duenna, the Critic. His songs are not to be equalled; they have a joyous spirit of intoxication in them, and a spirit of the most melting tenderness. Sheridan was not only a dramatic writer, but a first-rate parliamentary speaker. His characteristics as an orator, were manly, unperverted good sense, and keen irony. Wit, which has been thought a two-edged weapon, was by him always employed by the same side of the question-I think, on the right one. His set and more laboured speeches, were proportionably abortive, and unimpressive; but no one was equal to him in replying on the spur of the moment to pompous absurdity, and unravelling the web of flimsy sophistry. He was the last accomplished debater of the House of Commons; an ornament of private and public life; universally beloved; a wit and a patriot, to boot; a poet and an honest man." Born 1751, Died 1816.

CCVI.

THE TWIN ROSES.

The night-dew fell on a lovely rose,

Fresh op'ning to the view, That soft reclin'd upon its twin,

Of rich and damask hue.

Fan'd by the breeze, they gently form'd

And seem'd to live as one;

And smil'd, sweet as the pearly drops, That in the sunbeam shone.

Secure amidst the sheltering bower,
They twin'd with artless tie:
But sever'd by the morn's rude blast,
One droop'd, and sunk to die.

The rose upon its slender stem,
As if with sorrow press'd;
Wav'd o'er its twin-bud lowly laid,

No more by smiles caress'd.

Maria mark'd the lovely gem,

Fresh glittering in the ray;

The tear-drop dew'd its kindred flower,

That withering died away.

'Twas thus love twin'd around that heart,
False Edward's smiles had won:
Hope fled, aud like the lovely rose,
She droop'd, to die alone.

CCV1I.

BLOW ON, YE WILD WINDS. *

AIR.-My lodging is on the cold ground.

Blow on, ye wild winds, o'er his hallow'd grave,
Thy music is sweet to the ear;

And lovely thy mountains, though mantl'd in snow,
As the fragrant smile of the year.

* These lines were composed for, and sung at the celebration of the birth of Burns, held at Paisley, on the 29th of January 1819.

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