Fair was the flower, and soft the vernal sky;
Elate with hope we deem'd no tempeft nigh;
When lo! a whirlwind's instantaneous gust
Left all its beauties withering in the duft.
All cold the hand that footh'd Woe's weary head!
All quench'd the eye the pitying tear that shed!
All mute the voice whofe pleafing accents stole,
Infufing balm into the rankled foul!-
O Death, why arm with cruelty thy power,
And spare the weed, yet lop the lovely flower!
Why fly thy fhafts in lawless error driven!
To Virtue then no more the care of Heaven!
But peace, bold thought! be ftill, my bursting heart! We, not ELIZA, felt the fatal dart.
Scap'd the dark dungeon does the flave complain,
Nor bless the hand that broke the galling chain?
Say, pines not Virtue for the lingering morn,
On this dark wild condemn'd to roam forlorn?
Where Reafon's meteor-rays, with fickly glow,
O'er the dun gloom a dreadful glimmering throw;
Disclosing dubious to th' affrighted eye
O'erwhelming mountains tottering from on high,
Black billowy feas in ftorms perpetual toft,
And weary ways in wildering labyrinths loft.
O happy stroke that bursts the bonds of clay,
Darts thro' the rending gloom the blaze of day,
And wings the foul with boundless flight to foar,
When dangers threat and fears alarm no more.
Tranfporting thought! here let me wipe away
The falling tear, and wake a bolder lay;
But ah! afresh the fwimming eye o'erflows-
Nor check the tear that ftreams for human woes.
Lo! o'er hér duft, in fpeechlefs anguish, bend
The hopeless Parent, Hufband, Brother, Friend!-
How vain the hope of Man!-But ceafe thy ftrain,
Nor Sorrow's dread folemnity prophane;
Mix'd with yon drooping mourners, o'er her bier
In filence shed the fympathetic tear.
ABSENCE. A PASTORAL BALLAD.
OW fweet to recall the fweet moments of joy! 'Tis this, and this, only can Abfence employ, Can eafe my fond heart, and beguile my foft pain, Till I fee with delight my dear charmer again.
Ah! who ever knew fuch full transports as I,
While with her, the swift minutes unheeded pass'd by,
Alas! with the fweet recollection I burn,
Bring back your delights, ye dear moments, return!
Ah me! what delights in my bofom would rife
While with eager attention I've hung on her eyes,
And watch'd the kind beams of Compaffion and Love,
While fhe pitied my paffion, and feem'd to approve;
Ah me! with what raptur'd attention I've hung,
To catch the sweet accents that flow'd from her tongue,
When tenderness bade the dear maiden impart
The pleafing fenfations that glow'd in her heart.
O how does my Fair one confume the long day?
Is the Charmer quite eafy while I am away?
Indeed if our thoughts like our hearts fhould agree,
The dear lovely maiden is thinking on me:
Ah! did fhe but think with fuch fondness as I,
How much would she grieve, and how oft would she figh! Yet with fo much fond Love may her bofom ne'er burn,
If fhe fighs as I figh, if fhe mourns as I mourn.
But why do I wander? why figh thus alone?
Alas! 'tis the lofs of my Fair that I moan.
Why thus every hour does my forrow increase?
Alas! it is Abfence that ruins my peace.
Why fwells my fad bofom with fear and with grief?
Ah! nought but her prefence can bring me relief.
Why thus down my cheek trickles faft the big tear?
Alas! can I help it?-my Fair is not here.
Till I nourish'd this paffion I all unconcern'd
Saw Peace my companion wherever I turn'd,
Till now with my heart all at ease I could rest,
And a figh was a ftranger unknown to my breaft.
What then is this Love? and why do I endure
Thefe griefs in my mind, nor endeavour to cure?
When thus my fond heart is o'erwhelm'd with Despair,
And I know no delight when away from my Fair?
Yet, Colin, thefe pains, fpite of all thou haft faid,
By one hour of her prefence are far over-paid,
Thefe forrows from Abfence which now you deplore,
Then vanish, are loft, and are thought of no more.
Recall those rash words, and forbear to complain,
Since the next tender meeting rewards all your pain,
Let fweet Expectation then leffen your care,
Let Hope foften Abfence, and keep off Despair.
Sure, fure thofe dear pleasures once more will return;
How long in this Absence diftreft must I mourn ?
How long muft I wish, while my lot I deplore,
That dear angel-face!-could I fee it once more!
That dear angel-voice !-Time, how fwift didft thou fecm,
While I listen'd enchanted as Love was her theme!
O come thofe dear hours! and to foothe my fond pain
Love again be her theme, and I liften again!
How dull and how flow do the moments retreat!
Time was when they flew :-now there's lead on their feet.
Ye Loiterers, be gone; why fo long do ye stay?
Ye fly when I'm with her, ye creep when away.
Ah! Colin, how foolish Time's progrefs.to blame,
His paces are equal, his motions the fame;
'Twas the joy of her Prefence made Time-
appear fleet,
"Tis the pain of her Abfence adds lead to his feet.
HE, Lesbian lute no more can charm,
.Nor my once-panting bofom warm;
No more I breathe the tender figh;
Nor when my beauteous fwain appears,
With down-caft look, and starting tears,
Confefs the luftre of his eye.
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