POEMS;

OCCASIONAL AND MISCELLANEOUS.

THE VERNAL MORN.

BRIGHT Sol again yokes up his steeds,
And drives the night away;
Eager I haste to range the meads,
And hail the new-born day.

The woods and lawns invite to rove,
The flocks the hills adorn;
The birds that carol in the grove
Welcome the vernal morn.

The feathered choir, on every spray,
Attune their notes to praise;

And to the glorious God of Day
Their grateful accents raise.

The sportive flocks that climb the hill,
The herds that range the vale,
The echoes of the murmuring rill,

His genial influence hail.

2*

(17)

"Shall man be mute while instinct sings,"

Nor join the general joy?—
No; rather let celestial things
His every thought employ !

Ye, who would rosy health retain,
Arise, and shake off sleep;

Or you, with me, perhaps in vain,

The lovely Nymph, a fugitive, may weep!

The breath of morn regales each sense,
And cheers the languid frame;

Then, slothful sleep and slumber, hence!
And hence, your sluggish train!

AURORA! still let me inhale

Thy health-inspiring breath;

Oh, yet withhold me from the vale
Of dread, primeval Death!

April, 1810.

TO MY FATHER.

ON HIS BIRTH-DAY; APRIL 8, 1812.

WHILE clouds obscure the sky,
And fleecy snow descends,-
My heart, with Friendship's sigh,
Salutes my absent Friends:

My Father first; to him my soul draws near;
This day completes his fifty-seventh year.

My Brother, ever near,

My Sister, calm and mild,
Her lovely offspring dear,

My sainted-Sister's child

Ye all will share the affections of my breast, Till Reason's reign finds everlasting rest.

Nor absent friends alone

Monopolize my heart;

She, whose soft breast is prone

Connubial joys to impart,

Shall share my love-endear the tie of life,
Till nature groans in elemental strife!

MORNING HYMN.

SWEET the balmy breath of morning Sweeps along the dew-gemmed sward; Let our hearts, mild grace adorning, Pour their matins to the Lord.

Early let our thoughts, aspiring,
To all nature's God ascend;
Whose rich mercies, never tiring,
On our wayward steps attend.

May our aspirations, votive,

At His Throne acceptance find; Of such vows, how strong the motive, To the POWER who rules the Mind!

While our lips, in tuneful measure,
Swell the hymn of grateful praise;
Let our souls-our richest treasure-
To their SIRE an offering raise.

GUARDIAN of our hours, nocturnal,
THOU, to whom all praise belongs,
Let our voice, in strains diurnal,

Chant Thy praise in choral songs.

While we sail life's stormy ocean,
Let Thy mandate calm the wave;
Safely moored,-hushed each commotion,
Sink we in the peaceful grave!

On the resurrection morning,

Freed from dross-refined by loveMay our souls, rich Grace adorning, Claim Thy promised rest above.