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EPISTLE TO THE LADY CHARLOTTE R-WD-N.

Not many months have now been dream'd away
Since yonder sun (beneath whose evening ray
We rest our boat among these Indian Isles)
Saw me, where mazy Trent serenely smiles
Through many an oak, as sacred as the groves
Beneath whose shade the pious Persian roves,
And hears the soul of father or of chief,
Or loved mistress, sigh in every leaf!
There listening, lady! while thy lip hath sung
My own unpolish'd lays, how proud I've hung
On every mellow'd number! proud to feel
That notes like mine should have the fate to steal,
As o'er thy hallowing lip they sigh'd along,
Such breath of passion and such soul of song.
Oh! I have wonder'd, like the peasant boy
Who sings at eve his Sabbath strains of joy,
And when he hears the rude, luxuriant note
Back to his ear on softening echoes float,
Believes it still some answering spirit's tone,
And thinks it all too sweet to be his own!
I dream'd not then that, ere the rolling year
Had fill'd its circle, I should wander here
In musing awe; should tread this wondrous world,
See all its store of inland water's hurl'd
In one vast volume down Niagara's steep, .
Or calm behold them, in transparent sleep,
Where the blue hills of old Toronto shed
Their evening shadows o'er Ontario's bed!
Should trace the grand Cadaraqui, and glide
Down the white rapids of his lordly tide
Through massy woods, through islets flowering fair,
Through shades of bloom, where the first sinful pair
For consolation might have weeping trod,
When banish'd from the garden of their God!
Oh, lady! these are miracles, which man,
Caged in the bounds of Europe's pigmy plan,
Can scarcely dream of; which his eye must see,
To know how beautiful this world can be!

ODE FROM ANACREON.

To all that breathe the airs of heaven,
Some boon of strength has nature given.
When the majestic bull was born,
She fenced his brow with wreathed horn.
She arm'd the courser's foot of air,
And wing'd with speed the panting hare.
She gave the lion sangs of terror,
And, on the ocean's crystal mirror,
Taught the unnumber'd scaly throng
To trace their liquid path along;
While for the umbrage of the grove,
She plumed the warbling world of love.
To man she gave the flame refined,
The spark of Heaven-a thinking mind;
And had she no surpassing treasure
For thee, oh woman! child of pleasure ?
She
gave

thee beauty; shaft of eyes,
That every shaft of war outflies !
She gave thee beauty ; blush of fire,
That bids the flames of war retire!
Woman! be fair, we must adore thee;
Smile, and a world is weak before thee?

TO A BOY, WITH A WATCH.

Is it not sweet, beloved youth,

To rove through erudition's bowers, And cull the golden fruits of truth,

And gather fancy's brilliant flowers ?

And is it not more sweet than this

To feel thy parents' hearts approving, And pay them back, in sums of bliss,

The dear, the endless debt of loving ?

It must be so to thee, my youth;

With this idea toil is lighter;
This sweetens all the fruits of truth,

And makes the flowers of fancy brighter!
The little gist we send thee, boy,

May sometimes teach thy soul to ponder,
If Indolence or siren Joy

Should ever tempt that soul to wander.
"Twill tell thee that the winged day

Can ne'er be chain'd by man's endeavour;
That life and time shall fade away,

While Heaven and virtue bloom for ever!

STANZAS.

A Beam of tranquillity smiled in the west,

The storms of the morning pursued us no more, And the wave, while it welcomed the moment of rest,

Still heaved, as remembering ills that were o'er! Serenely my heart took the hue of the hour,

Its passions were sleeping, were mute as the dead, And the spirit becalm'd but remember'd their power,

As the billow the force of the gale that was fed! I thought of the days when to pleasure alone

My heart ever granted a wish or a sigh; When the saddest emotion my bosom had known

Was pity for those who were wiser than I!
I felt how the pure intellectual fire

In luxury loses its heavenly ray;
How soon, in the lavishing cup of desire,

The pearl of the soul may be melted away! And I prayed of that Spirit who lighted the flame,

That pleasure no more might its purity dim: And that, sullied but little, or brightly the same, I might give back the gem I had borrow'd from

him!

The thought was ecstatic! I felt as if Heaven

Had already the wreath of eternity shown; As if, passion all chasten'd and error forgiven,

My heart had begun to be purely its own! I look'd to the west, and the beautiful sky

Which morning had clouded was clouded no more: “ Oh! thus,” I exclaim'd, “can a heavenly eye

Shed light on the soul that was darken'd before !"

GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THRE.

Go where glory waits thee,
But, while fame elates thee,

Oh! still remember me.
When the praise thou meetest
To thine ear is sweetest,

Oh! then remember me.
Other arms may press thee,
Dearer friends caress thee,
All the joys that bless thee

Sweeter far may be ;
But when friends are nearest,
And when joys are dearest,

Oh! then remember me.
When at eve thou rovest
By the star thou lovest,

Oh! then remember me.
Think, when home returning,
Bright we've seen it burning-

Oh! then remember me.
Oft as summer closes,
When thine eye reposes
On its lingering roses,

Once so loved by thee,
Think of her who wove them,
Her who made thee love them

Oh! then remember me.

When, around thee dying,
Autumn leaves are lying,

Oh! then remember me.
And at night, when gazing
On the gay hearth blazing,

Oh! still remember me.
Then should music, stealing
All the soul of seeling,
To thy heart appealing,

Draw one tear from thee;
Then let memory bring thee
Strains I used to sing thee-

Oh! then remember me.

OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME.

OA! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade,
Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid :
Sad, silent, and dark be the tears that we shed,
As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head!

But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it

weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he

sleeps ; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

AS A BEAM O'ER THE FACE OF THE WATERS MAY GLOW. As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow, While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, So the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny

smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while.

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