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15. His cheek, where health with beauty glow'd,

A deadly pale o'ercast:
So fades the fresh rose in its prime,

Before the northern blast.

16.

The parents now, with late remorse,

Hung o'er his dying bed;
And wearied Heaven with fruitless vows,

And fruitless sorrow shed.

17.
“ 'Tis past !” he cry'd—“ but if your souls

Sweet Mercy yet can move,
Let these dim eyes once more behold

What they must ever love!"

18. She came; his cold hand softly touch'd,

And bath'd with many a tear; Fast falling o'er the primrose pale,

So morning dews appear.

19. But, oh! his sister's jealous care

(A cruel sister she) Forbade what Enima came to say:

My Edwin! live for mc."

20, Now homeward as she hopeless wept

The church-yard path along, The blast blew cold, the dark owl scream'd

Her lovers funeral song.

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22. Alone, appall’d, thus had she pass'd

The visionary valeWhen, lo! the death-bell smote her ear,

Sad-sounding in the gale!

23. Just then she reach'd, with trembling step,

Her aged mother's doorHe's gone!" she cry'd;

" and I shall sec That angel-face no more!

24. " I feel, I feel this breaking heart

Beat high against my side--" From her wbite arm down sunk her head;

She shivering, sigh’d, and died.

AN ENQUIRY

AFTER HAPPINESS.

BY MISS CARTER.

The midnight moon serenely snuiles

O'er nature's soft repose,
No low'ring cloud obscures the sky,

Nor ruffling tempest blows.

Now ev'ry passion sinks to rest,

The throbbing heart lies still;
And varying schemes of life no more

Distract the lab'ring will.

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In silence hush'd, to Reason's voice

Attends each mental pow'r;
Come, dear Emilia, and enjoy

Reflection's fav’rite hour.

Come; while the peaceful scene invites,

Let's search this ample round;
Where shall the lovely fleeting form

Of Happiness be found?

Does it amidst the frolic nuirth

Of gay assemblies dwell?
Or hide beneath the solemn gloom

That shades the hermit's cell?

How oft the laughing brow of joy

A sick’ning heart conceals! And through the cloister's deep recess

Invading sorrow steals.

In vain through beauty, fortune, wit,

The fugitive we trace;
It dwells not in the faithless smile

That brightens Clodio's face.

Perhaps the joy to these deny’d,

The heart in friendship finds: Ah! dear delusion, gay conceit

Of visionary minds.

Howe'er our varying notions rove,

Yet all agree in one,
To place its being in some state

At distance from our own.

O blind to each indulgent aim

Of pow'r, supremely wise, Who fancy Happiness in aught

The band of Heav'n denies!

Vain are alike the joys we seek,

And vain what we possess, Unless harmonious Reason tunes

The passions into peace.

To temper'd wishes, just desires,

Is Happiness confin’d,
And, deaf to Folly's call, attends

The music of the mind.

WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT,

IN A

THUNDER STORM.

BY THE SAME.

Ler coward Guilt, with pallid Fear,

To shelt'ring caverns fly,
And justly dread the vengeful fate

That thunders through the sky.

Protected by that Hand, whose law

The threat'ning storms obey, Intrepid Virtue seniles secure,

As in the blaze of day.

In the thick cloud's tremendous gloom

The lightning's lurid glare,
It views the same all-gracious Power

That breathes the vernal air.

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