4.

Fate will restore thee, Angel, kind and bright
As Spring's fair Morning on the troubled sea,
That surg'd and toss'd thro' the long, stormy night,
Like my tumultuous heart, when robb'd of thee;
By thy vain doubts disturb'd, or real fears
Shrouding in shadows dark our future years.

5.

The clouds disperse !-our long disastrous love, Trembling beneath pale Ruin's hovering wings, Emerges from their shade! O! may it prove

No meteor-fire, that now before us springs,

But a mild pole-star to the dear Retreat,
Where Peace, and Competence our steps shall meet.

6.

On thee to gaze thro' all the Summer's day!
Hear thy sweet accents cheer the Winter's Eve!
Thro' the soft hours of slumber's darkling sway
Thy balmy breathings on my cheek perceive!
What full reward for all the woes, that shed
Gloom o'er th' impassioned years, irrevocably fled!

AN IMITATION OF HORACE,

BOOK 2. ODE 7.

THE AUTHOR GOING TO TAKE HIS DEGREE.

"O sæpe mecum tempus in ultimum
Deducte" &c. &c.

O THOU, in hair-breadth scapes like me,
By tyrant statutes undismay'd,
While rules what magic aid,
Gives thee to fly, yet safely see
Return'd the academic shade.

Full oft the light convivial vein
Has sped for us the minutes' pace,
Full oft, amaz'd, the slavish race
Of College seen us both disdain
The pedant Genius of the place.

To me, impatient for the boon,
Expecting long and gaining late,
He deigns his rigours to abate;
But thee condemns for many a moon,
To war with Dulness and with Fate.

And yet thy safe return to hail,
And welcome my approaching right,
The Muse on this distinguish'd night,
The Muse our Sovereign will not fail,
Our proudest homage to requite.

Be ours my then to shew

Due honours at her patron shrine, My richest ripest flask be thine, Then let the warm libation flow

To Freedom, Friendship, and the Nine.

IMITATED

FROM AN ANCIENT GREEK AUTHOR.

1.

WITH me the rosy goblet share,

With me enjoy the youthful hours,

With me caress the frolic fair,

With me compose the wreath of flowers!

2.

Now drive with me dull thought away,
With me defiance bid to sorrow,

Be merry Thou with Me to day ;-
And I'll be wise with Thee to-morrow!

EDMUND L. SWIFT. 1802.

LINES,

WRITTEN ON AN AUTUMNAL VISIT AT THE VILLA OF A LONG-RESPECTED FRIEND.

BY T. PARK, ESQ.

REPINING Memory, sometimes, through
The darkening veil of tears.
Regards, with sadly-pensive view,
The shades of former years:

Sees those, who in Youth's sunny prime
Beam'd rapture on our sight,
Eclips'd by distance or by time,

Or set in Death's long night!

Yet Nature still has means most dear
To keep the heart-blood warm,
Some vernal sympathies to cheer
Mid many an Autumn-storm.

And though poor Life's coëval leaves
Hang thinly scatter'd round,

And not a breeze can blow but drives
Some trembler to the ground;

May the firm few that brave Time's circling blast,

Cling to their early stock of Amity more fast!

HYMN TO OLD AGE.

BY WILLIAM PRESTON, ESQ.

FULL many a Bard attunes the string For Youth, and all it loves to bring, It's graceful forms, it's polish'd toys, Delirium sweet, and promis'd joys; All these enchant the tuneful throng, And Youth, the season is for song; Rhyming, 'mid twenty whimsies more, Adds but one folly to the score. But should a Bard in riper age, Chance to retain poetic rage; The sole atonement for his rhyme, Which he can make to slighted time, Is with some monitory lay,

To sing the praise of LIFE'S DECAY.

Not myrtle bower, not virgin's dream, Not field of combat be my theme. No wreath my sober Muse shall find, For crimes and follies of mankind. Thy praises, Age, command my voice; And let the theme reward my choice. Repress the fiery pride of Youth, Impart the love of moral truth: