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Behold, in you unconscious grove,
The victims of ill-fated love!
Heard you that agonizing throe?
Şure this is not romantick woe!
The golden day of joy is o'er ;
And now they part—to meet no more.
Assist them hearts from anguish free!
Assist them, sweet Humanity!

Parent of virtue, if thine ear

Attend not now to sorrow's cry; If now the pity streaming tear

Should haply on thy cheek be dry, ļndulge my votive strain, O sweet Humanity!

Rural Simplicity, an Oue.

O THOU, whom Love and Fancy lead,

To wander near this woodland hill,

If ever musick soothed thy quill,
Or pity waked thy gentle reed,

Repose beneath my humble tree,
If thou lovest. Simplicity.

Stranger, if thy lot has laid

In toi!some scenes of busy life,

Full sorely may'st thou see the strife, Of weary passions ill repaid,

In a garden live like me, Įf thou lovest Simplicity.

Flowers have sprung for many a year,

O'er the village maiden's grave,

That, one memorial-spring to save,
Bore it from a sister's bier ;

And homeward walking, wept o'er me
The true tears of simplicity:

And soon, her cottage-window near,

With care my slender stem she placed,

And fondly, thus her grief embraced,
And cherish'd sad remembrance dear;

For love sincere and friendship free,
Are children of Simplicity.

When past was many a painful day,

Slow-pacing o'er the village-green

In white were all its maidens seen, And love my guardian friend away. Oh, Death! what sacrifice to thee The ruins of Simplicity,

One generons swain her heart approved,

A youth, whose fond and faithful breast,

With many an artless sigh confest,
In Nature's language that he loved:

But Stranger, 'tis no tale for thee,
Unless thou lovest Simplicity.

He ied—and soon her lip was cold,

And soon her rosy lip was pale,

The village wept to hear the tale
When for both the slow bell toll'd-

Beneath yon flowery turf they lie,
The lovers of Simplicity.

Yet one boon have I to crave;

Stranger, if thy pity bleed,

Wilt thou do one tender deed,
And strew my pale flowers o'er their grave?

So lightly lie the turf on thee,
Because thou lovest Simplicity.

Ode to the River Eden. DelighTFUL Eden! parent stream,

Yet shall the maids of Memory say, When, led by Fancy's fairy dream,

My young steps traced thy winding way: How oft along thy mazy shore, Where slowly waved the willows hoar,

In pensive thought their poet stray'd ; Or, dozing near thy meadow'd side, Beheld thy dimply waters glide,

Bright thro' the trembling shade.

Yet shall they paint those scenes again,

Where once with infant-joy he play'd, And bending o'er thy liquid plain,

The azure worlds below survey'd ; Led by the rosy-handed hours, When Time trip'd o’er that bank of flowers,

Which in thy crystal bosom smiled! Tho' old the God, yet light and gay, He Aung his glass, his scythe away,

And seem'd himself, a child.

The poplar tall, that waving near

Would whisper to thy mnrmurs free ; Yet rustling seems to soothe mine ear,

And trembles when I sigh for thee.
Yet seated on thy sheltering brim,
Can Fancy see the Naiads trim

Burnish their green locks in the sun;
Or at the last lone hour of day,
To chase the lightly glancing jay,

In airy circles run.

But Fancy, can thy mimick power,

Again those happy moments bring ? Canst thou restore that golden hour,

When young Joy waved his laughing wing!
When first in Eden's rosy vale,
My full heart pour'd the lover's tale,

The vow sincere, devoid of guile!
While Delia in her panting breast,
With sighs, the tender thought supprest,

And look'd as angels smile.

O Goddess of the crystal brow,

That dwells't the golden meads among ; Whose streams still fair in memory flow, Whose murmurs melodize my song!

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