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“ Ah, luckless train! ah, fate-devoted race;
“ The dreadful tale, experience telis, believe;
“ Dark heavy milts obscure the morning's face,
“ But bloud and death shall close the dreary eve.

“ This day, fell man, whose unrelenting hate
“ No grief çan soften, and no tears asswage;
“ Pours dire destruction on the feather'd state,
“ Whilst pride and rapine urge his favage rage.

“ I, who so oft have 'scap'd th’impending snare,
“ Ere night arrives may feel the fiery wound;
“ In giddy circles quit the realms of air,
“ And stain with streaming gore the dewy ground.”

She said ; when lo! the pointer winds his prey,
The rufiling stubble gives the fear'd alarm;
The gunner views the covey fleet away,
And rears th’unerring tube with skiliul arın.

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In vain the mother wings her whirring light,
The leaden deaths arrest her as she flies;
Her scatter’d offspring swim before her sight,
And, bath'd in blood, she flutters, pants, and dies.

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WHY start! this case will yours be very soon,

In some few years, perhaps the coming moon, Life, at its utmost length, is scarce a breath, And those who longest dream, must wake in death, Like you, I once thought ev'ry bliss secure, And gold of ev'ry ill the certain cure; Till plung’d in sorrow, and besieg’d with pain, Too late I found all earthly riches vain. Disease made fruitless quite the sordid fee, And death ftill answer'd, “What is gold to me?" Fame, titles, honours, next I vainly fought, And fools, obfequious, nurs'd each childish thought, Elate with brib'd applause, and purchas'd praise, I built on endless grandeur, endless days; Till death awoke ine from my dream of pride, And laid a prouder beggar by my side. Pleasure I courted, and indulg'd my taste, The banquet smil'd, and smil'd the gay repast. A loathsome carcase was my only care, And worlds were ransack'd but for me to share. Go on, vain man! to luxury be firm, Yet know I feasted but to feast a worm.


Already sure less terrible I seem,
shall own that life's

a dream, Farewell! remember! nor my words despise, “ The only happy are the early wise."



COME, thou indulgent friend to fost repose,
Whether with crimfon, green, or yellow

Come with thy downy lap, and let's embrace
While thus supine I sink into thy arms :
When man can't saunter thro' the filent

grove, Or under shade to tufted trees, alone Indulge in solitude his weary hours; When chilling damps, or winter's nipping frost, Denies access to filent hawthorn bow'rs : Oh grant him heav'n! grant him your next best

The soft, reclining, gentle, easy chair :
There if by gambol, or in jocund dance,
Or if by skating o'er the frozen stream
(Health breeding exercise) he chance to tire,
There, brisk activity gives up her sway,
And yields dominion to all-powerful ease.
Hail smiling ease! philosophy’s great pride,


Mother of meditation, and the nurse
Of all the tribes in sportive fancy's train.
Without thy care great Newton ne'er had found
The laws of nature, or discover'd worlds.
Hail cheerful ruler of the mental pow'rs !
Here now accept a vot’ry at thy thrine,
And cheer with smiles a wearied son of care.

C. B.

[The following well-imagined and affecting elegy,

was written by a young gentleman of fashion, upon the loss of a mot amiable wife.]


In every varied posture, place, and hour,
How widow'd every thought of every joy!
Thought, busy thought, too busy for my peace !
Strays, wretched rover! o'er the pleafing PAST;
In quest of wretchedness perversy ftrays ;
And finds all desart now.


N Burton's favourite groves, alas, how chang’d

By Charlctte's death! oft let me devious rove Indulging grief; where glad some once I rang’d,

In sweet society with peace and love.


Oft in the silent evening, all alone,

When solemn twilight shades the face of day, The plaintive muse shall hither waft her moan;

With tendereft paffion here inspire my lay.

These hours, allotted to that muse's hand,

To latest time thy memory shall endear; While soft ideas rise at her command,

And in luxurious forrow prompt the tear.

Recall, soft fame of gentleness and love!
That calm, which triumph'd o'er thy parting

That blooming texture by the graces wove :

-And are those eyes for ever set in death?

One more and then-farewell ! one lingering

view Tore


fond soul from all it held so dear : 'Twas o'er !-fareweil-my joys : sweet hope,

adieu !
-Adieu, my love !-we part for ever here:

No! in the still of night, my restless thought

Pursues thy image thro' its change unknown; Steals oft unnotic'd to the dreary vault,

And in that vale of sorrow pours my own :


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