■ 5> : ••■,.;•; ■ I ■ M ■ *s* I ■ ■ ■i 90 By bequest of William Lukens Shoemaker -J I IS'" 1 " ^J//f'j///'/ r - vumcM j/J/v/l . '/>u,j ;:'::/,, 7?. ,-.,,:_ir-, / POEMS - Ik / ; ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS, BY THE LATE REV. THOMAS BROWNE, OF KINGSTON-UPON-HULL* " Me lusit amabalis insane." Hor. pjjilaaelpijte i PRINTED EOR JOHN CONRAD fc? CO, NO. 30 CbeStlUt Street — m. fc? j. conrad fe? co. no. 140 Market Street^ Baltimore, &? rapine, conrad £s? co. Washington City. 1801.' Gift. 1 s >m ' THE EDITOR'S PREFACE. There is, perhaps, no observation more common, as there is no sentiment more natural, than that almost every one is de- sirous of knowing something of a person whose wdrks have, in any considerable degree, excited his interest, or contribut- ed to his amusement. This is particularly the case with the admirers of poetry, and the different imitative arts. The minds of such persons are habitually occupied in embodying the forms which their favorite studies have suggested to their fancy, and in combining their ideas into substance and personality. Of every person who occupies much of their attention, they are always eager to acquire some decisive and settled notions, on which their imagination may rest. , For the sake of persons of this description, in whose minds the Author of the following Poems, by his character, or his works, may have acquired an interest/ I have thought it ad- viseable to prefix to this volume some particulars respecting himself, and those few of his productions which have surviv- ed him. Such information will be acceptable to those, whose feelings may have contributed to raise their curiosity on his account; and it is necessary to the public at large, to whose attention this volume might otherwise appear to have very in- sufficient claims. The best apology, I am sensible, that can be made for some of the pieces in the following collection, is to relate the .circumstances under which they were written, and under which they are published. . N EDITORS PREFACE. Mr. Browne was the son of the Rev. Thomas Browne, of Lestingham, near Kirby moor side in Yorkshire, a man of sound understanding, and exemplary piety, and who was con- sequently held in great estimation by the respectable part of his parishioners. The Author of this Collection was born in the year 1771, and at the helpless age of two years, was deprived of his father. This misfortune, so severe under any circum- stances, is still more essentially so to a child whose future progress in life is to depend on the effectual cultivation of his understanding and talents. His mother, however, did every thing in her power to forward the task of his educa- tion ; and after being at several schools in the neighborhood of his native village, he was placed under the tuition of the late Rev. Joseph Milner, of Hull, whose character must con- ier a degree of respectability on every youth who has shared his cares and instructions. After finishing his classical studies, and accomplishing himself in such useful and practical branches of knowledge as are requisite in an instructor of youth in the country, he undertook the care of a school at Yeddingham, near Pickering, in Yorkshire, where he resided nearly four years, universally esteemed and beloved. Thence he remov- ed to Bridlington, in the same county, where the sphere of Ws exertion was enlarged, and where he continued in the same respectable and useful avocation, with the same success. In 1797, he removed from Bridlington to Hull, and became the Editor of a weekly newspaper, called the Hull Adverti- ser, which several private gentlemen had begun to publish a few years before, and in which, while he resided at Bridling- ton, several of his poetical pieces, and prose essays, on differ- ent subjects, had appeared. This publication he conducted with great credit to himself, and much satisfaction to the pro- prietors and the public. He now obtained holy orders, and undertook the tuition of two young gentlemen from Bridling- ton Quay, who were sent to reside with him at Hull. Thus, uniting in himself the two most honorable of all professions, he bid fair to arrive at eminence in them both, when his pre- mature death in the year 1798, frustrated the hopes of his friends, and deprived the world of his talents and virtues, be* €DITOrvi PREFACE. fore they had time to emerge from the obscurity In which for- tune had placed them. About three months before his death, while yet his fortunes and establishments were in a state far from permanent or pros- perous, Mr. Browne married. Love was an affection beyond all others congenial to his nature, and, under its influence, every inferior principle of action lost its weight. His mind was a soil which nourished, with peculiar fertility, all the warm and affectionate virtues; and in such a soil the colder ones of prudence and economy will seldom vegetate. A mind of this description is too much occupied with the present to calculate on the future. Mr. Browne possessed, from nature, a fertile imagination, and a heart of strong feelings. and quick sensibility. His fondness for reading was excessive, and his observation of na- ture was attentive and acute. With such dispositions, it is no wonder that he became early attached to those pursuits which are calculated, beyond all others, to occupy the fancy, and in- terest the affections. Accordingly, in very early youth, he discovered an ungovernable eagerness for every tiling which respected, painting, poetry,- and whatever nature or art con- tains of the sublime, or beautiful, or pathetic. But his devo- tion to these pursuits was not discovered, as sometimes hap- pens, by any precocious or extraordinary efforts. His pro- ductions, like his mind, had more in them of the pleasing than the vigorous. lie did not make rapid incursions into the realms of art, and inforce dominion by tire irresistible tyranny of genius; but he sued for admission with the tenderness and constancy of a lover. Not only is tins temper of mind disco- verable in his juvenile pieces, but also in his later pro ; tions, and indeed in the whole tenor of his life. If it has ever occurred to any one, that he has sometimes discovered a spirit not. strictly compatible with this character of mind, it can only have been to those who have not reflect- ed on the ordinary movements of the human mmd in such si- tuations. A young, man, who has been brought up in the (Country, and has conversed much with books and little with men, cannot avoid forming mistaken estimates. of his capacity a 2 vi editor's preface. and attainments. *He has seldom the opportunity of measur- ing his powers with such as are qualified to teach him his own inferiority, and is accustomed to the applause and con- cessions of the illiterate around him. Hence the ardent hopes and the sanguine temperament of youth, must necessarily de- ceive him, as to every thing within and every thing without, and exhibit to him both the world and himself infalse colours. Young men, who are brought up in public schools, or who are early ushered into life (except some few whose natural conceit is of a character too stupid to be removed by instruc- tion, or too strong to be subdued by mortification) are seldom liable to this misfortune. Their natural feelings become sub- jected to the usages of society, and being hourly made sensi- ble of their deficiencies by inevitable comparison, the true va- lue of their character cannot be concealed from themselves. This, perhaps, is one of the strongest considerations in favor of a public education. With respect to his intellectual character, it is certain that his progress in letters, and in the sciences, was by no means inconsiderable. His mind was naturally inquisitive, and his curiosity was constantly excursive, so that his acquirements were always on the increase. I have seen some short Latin poems of his, which were at first intended to have had a place in this collection, and which, though they did not ap- pear sufficiently finished for publication, exhibit a variety of expression, and an acquaintance with classic phraseology, be- yond what could have been expected from his limited means of study. Like the rest of his compositions, they are all ei- ther of the tender or elegiac cast. His mathematical know- ledge was of a very respectable degree, and his general ac- quaintance with books, appears to have been very extensive. Since the period when theological studies became the princi- pal object of his attention, as they were of his duty, he seems to have applied himself to that department of learning with uncommon assiduity. Such is the short and humble history of one whose modest and amiable virtues deserve to be regretted (and, perhaps, to be recorded) more than some of his contemporaries of much EDITOR S PREFACE. VU greater celebrity, and who, in his lifetime, would have shrunk from being thus brought before the dread tribunal of the pub- lic ; as his own gentle nature shrunk from the rude conflicts and hard collisions of a world which he was found unable to combat ! I shall finish this memoir with a few remarks on the cha- racter of his poetry, and on the contents of the present volume. It is not to be pretended that Mr. Browne possessed pow- ers adequate to the higher orders of poetry. He himself never entertained any such opinion. The faculties of his mind, like those of his heart, were temperate and placid. Not that he is to be considered as sunk to the level of that insipid mediocrity which poetry renounces, but he undoubt- edly did not possess much of that " Mens Divinior" which astonishes the mind and fires the imagination. The object of his ambition was to raise in his readers the same sensations of charity and affection which constituted his own happiness, and what he attempted he performed. Since the revival of letters in Europe, English Poetry has assumed, at successive periods, four distinct characters, ana- logous, in some degree, to the progress of refinement in ci- vilized society. These may be stiled (for the sake of distinc- tion and for want of more appropriate expressions) the Ro- mantic, the Metaphysical, the Rational, and the Sentimen- tal. The first of these schools is remotely derived from the Troubadours, whose works were so much celebrated in the 12th. and 13th. centuries, under the name of the Provencal Poetry. The reign of chivalry which had such an effect on the letters of the age, had already refined the rudeness of these uncouth bards, when the amourous verses of Petrarch diffused a new taste over Europe, and the triumphs of love where celebrated even more than the atchievments of arms. In the class of poets which then flourished, may be placed the authors of our old ballads and legends, and, probably, Chaucer, Spencer, and many other names of inferior eminence. Shortly after, when the dialectics of the schools began to su- persede the visions of romance, the poetry of the bards be- Vill EDITOR S PREFACE. came tinctured with the subtleties of the Logicians, and the Metaphysical Tribe arose. The beauties which this descrip- tion of poets principally solicited were what they termed "thoughts " that is such subtleties either of the imagination or reason, as were calculated to surprise by their novelty, or as- tonish by their 'depth. Every one is acquainted with the lead- ers in this species of poetry ; Cowley, Donne, Jonson, and, in some degree, even Milton and Shakespeare, may be num- bered among its votaries. But, as society refines; the empire of common sense is sure to gain the ascendancy. Next, therefore, came -the rational poets. Among the founders of this school, Dry den certainly claims the pre-eminence, and Pope among the disciples. These writers, tho' admitting and courting ail the graces which fancy and nature lend to poet- ry, are, however, distinguished by the prevalence of that fa- culty in their writings which we call good sense, or right rea- son. Dr. Johnson is perhaps the last who can be numbered decidedly among this class. Last of all came the sentimental poets of the present age. When a nation has reached the sum- mit of Luxury, its* masculine vigor becomes impaired, and the nerve of attention is relaxed. But the minds of men, in this state, tho' abhorrent from every species of exertion, are, more than ever, eager for amusement. Something must, therefore, be done to sooth the fancy and the feelings,- which will not keep the faculties too much on the stretch. This state of public sensation is the natural precursor of that revo- Jution in the art, which then begins to be not less necessary to the poet than to his readers; for the striking images of na- ture, whence poetry chiefly derives its materials, are now al- most exhausted. What is great, being also prominent, can- not have escaped former observation. To excel in poetry, of that kind which is its proper character, is therefore become an arduous task, attainable only by such a genius as can very seldom be expected to appear. But another career is still open. As the pursuits and manners of life are perpetually changing, the modifications of passion and sentiment which depend on them admit of endless variety, and to combine and describe these in elegant and musical versification., is the taik EDITOR 6 PREFACE. Vt assigned to the poet of the present day. Softness and sweet- ness are now, therefore, almost all that are required of him ; but, as the public ear is of course very refined, and the public feeling very delicate, these requisites are absolutely indispen- sable. Shenstone and Goldsmith are among the earliest mas- ters of this school ; and, as the first writers in every era of po- etry are commonly the greatest, they have not been excelled by any of their successors. This short view of the progress of poetry, is not, I hope, entirely impertinent in this place, as it is intended to remind the reader that so much is not to be expected from the poets of the present day, as from some of the venerable dead, whose works he may have been accustomed to consider as the stand- ard of perfection. It is meant to remind him that excellence, even in the same art, is to be attained in various ways, and that in every work " the writers end is to be regarded/' It is in this latter school that, 1 am of opinion, Mr. Browne was qualified to have made, in due time, a very conspicuous figure. His pieces are almost all of the description which is termed sentimental, and breathe the prevailing temperament of his mind. His feelings were perpetually open to the most lively impressions, and every species of suffering to which hu- man or inferior nature is subject, found a sympathetic chord in His bosom. This is observable even in his most trifling pro- ductions. The passion of love, the great source of poetic effusion in every age, seems to have been familiar to him in all its most delicate movements, and he has described its va- rious impulses in a spirit of nature and truth that could only result from a mind capable of conceiving and feeling its ef- fects. His smooth and flowing diction is entirely appropriate to subjects of tenderness and affection. When, after his death, it had been determined to publish a collection of his poems (as well for the sake of preserving some beautiful fugitive pieces from oblivion, as of procuring some little benefit to the widow and orphan who survived him) the different pieces that were known to be his compo- sitions were collected together by his friends. It was, how- ever, found impossible to produce a sufficient number to fill EDITOR S PREFACE, a Volume of the requisite size, without inserting several of his juvenile productions, which, perhaps, may be thought to reflect disgrace on those of his riper years, and which certain- ly have great need of the candor and indulgence of the pub- lic. Among the pieces of this description, those entitled, The Universal Wish* page 3 1 ; Content, page 43 ; Delia, a pas- toral ballad, page 50; Complaint of an African Woman, page 89; and a Song, page 142, I believe were written in the very early periods of his youth, when his stock of ideas, and command of language, were, of course, very confined, These, with some others, written at periods somewhat sub- sequent to the above, cannot certainly pretend to any higher aim, than that of affording some amusement to those who take pleasure in remarking the initiatory efforts of the rising faculties, in their pursuit after excellence, and the gradual expansion of the poetical talent. Among his last productions, are those entitled, The Beggar, page 1 ; To Anna, page 7 ; To Sleep, page 8 ; The Slighted Maid, page 83 ; To the- Polar Star, page 125 ; and some of the Sonnets, from which it will be seen that his imagination became gradually more excursive, his numbers more harmonious, and his diction more elegant and expressive. When he attempts the higher kinds of poetry, as in his Odes, he must be admitted to fail in the impetus ardens which that species of composition is thought to require ; but some of them, particularly the Ode to November, and that to Rage, contain some beautiful description and glowing lan- guage. The latter is by no means deficient even in the es- sential qualities of the ode, but it closes with a conceit which revives the memory of Cowley or of Clieveland. The Specimens of the Yorkshire Dialect have been great- ly admired by every one whose habits of life qualify him to appreciate their merits. In my opinion they contain the most faithful representations of modern rustic manners, and ihe best imitation of rustic language that have yet appeared, Perhaps some, disgusted with the vulgarity of the language and sentiments, may think the imitation too close, and that the coarseness of clownish manners ought to be somewhat 'MQK S FREFACE, 'softened in poetry. They will, however, afford great pleasure to every one conversant in the habits and dialect of the York- shire villagers, and on that account they are inserted. The short Pieces written on Mr. Browne's death, are in- serted at the wish of some of the subscribers, who are desi- rous of paying all possible respect to the memory of the de- ceased. The beautiful Ode, signed "Nemorina," is, of itself, sufficient to confer value on any publication in which it ap- pears. Some of the pieces inscribed to his memory are ad- dressed to " Alexis/' the name which he affixed to his pie- ces in the periodical publications. The Copy of Verses which concludes the volume, tho' not an original composition, I am sure every one v/ill excuse me for inserting. The reader will see it is compiled from different authors, and accomodated to the occasion on which it was written. As it now stands, perhaps, it is as elegant and affecting a composition as ever was produced in any language. It was arranged bv that friend of Mr. Browne, thro* whose exertions I have been enabled to publish this volume; and who was anxious to manifest by every means in his power his affection and veneration for the memory of the deceased. J. M- Ziverpool, 20th April, 1 800. CONTENTS. The Beggar I To the Aura Popularis 4 To Anna ? To Sleep 8 To my Pen 10 To a frighted Hare 13 Address to Genius . tv To a Violet 22 To a withered Rose 24 The Will-a-wisp ; an Eclogue 26 The Universal Wish ^ . • 31 Verses on the Flight of a Linnet, which had been sing- ing on the Top of a Beech, at the Foot of which the Author was reclined 34 Verses on the setting at liberty a Butterfly 36 To Cleanthe . 38 Force of Virtue 41 Content ; a Vision 43 To Eliza 47 Delia; a pastoral Ballad, in four parts 50 Hymn to Contentment 63 Lines addressed to a young Lady, who wrote many beautiful Poetical Pieces, which appeared in the Hull Advertiser 66 On the Author's writing a letter to his Mother 67 On the Birth-day of Miss * * * * *, of Hull 70 The Lovers to their favorite Tree. . • 73 Complaint of a Circassian Slave, confined in the Otto- man Seraglio 77 The Slighted Maid \ 83 Elegy on the young, beautiful, and accomplished Lady Grantley 85 Effusions of Melancholy 87 Cdmplaint of an African Woman for the Loss of her Husband * . . . . 89 Elegiac Verses written on the Grave of* an unfortunate fair one 92 Ode to the peremptory, ill-natured, and unwelcome monosyllable — No 96 B X1V CONTENTS. Ode to Rage 100 Ode to Friendship 103 Ode to the Rising Sun 105 Ode to Disappointment 108 Ode to the Spring HI Ode to November 113 Ode to Envy 117 >Ode to Folly ...'.'. 122 Sonnet to Sloth 123 Sonnet to a sleeping Child , 124 Sonnet to the Polar Star 125 Sonnet to Friendship 126 Anxiety 127 Hope. 128 Natale Solum 129 The Tear . r 130 Love 131 Peace 132 Shipwreck 133 To Beauty 134 To Eliza 135 Perfidy 137 To Impatience 138 The Sky-Lark 139 Song . . 142 The Sailor's Bride ..144 Song 145 Canzonet 147 Ditto 148 Song in the Yorkshire dialect 149 Ditto 152 Ditto 153 Awd Daisy; an Eclogue 155 The Invasion ; an Eclogue 1 60 Sonnet on the death of Alexis . , 165 On the death of Alexis 166 Sonnet, inscribed to the memory of the late Rev. Tho- mas Browne 168 Ode on the death of Alexis 169 On the death of the Rev, Thomas Browne 173 POEMS. OCCASIONAL PIECES. THE BEGGAR, Thro' the fields, as I stray'd, when the skies were serene, When the corn's pendent ears wildly wav'd in the breeze ; When bustling at work the gay reapers were seen, And Pomona's rich bounties hung ripe on the trees ; A poor Beggar I saw, as he sat on the ground, And I heard him oft sigh, and thus plaintively speak, Whilst his eye sad surveyed the gay prospect around, And pensive dejection sat pale on his cheek : c OCCASIONAL PIECES. " Amidst the gay scenes now unfolded to sight, It is almost a crime to be heard to complain; But, alas ! can the bosom partake of delight, That struggles with want, and is tortur'd with pain? From the door, where I crav'd but a morsel of bread, When spurn'd with rude taunts, I'm compell'd to depart : When houseless I rove, e'en unblest with a shed^ How can pleasure admittance obtain to my heart J From Nature's great Parent the bounties that flow, One would think, should awaken the kindness of man, Like him out of plenty a part to bestow, And give to the wretched the pittance he can. There was once, when the blessings of fortune were mine, When hope bid me count certain bliss as my lot ; When the soul of the wanderer could not repine, Who entreated an alms at the door of my cot. But, alas ! stern misfortune's rude hand has now torn From my heart ev'ry joy made it pleasure to live; OCCASIONAL PIECES. And hopeless, abandoned, I wander forlorn, To request the relief I exulted to give/' Ah me! and I heard him thus pensively wail, And I past, as it seemM, quite regardlessly by, As the Beggar repeated his sorrowful tale, Yet a tear — a soft tear gently stole from my eye. From thy look, for the language of looks I believe, Thou didst think I was hard, and unfeeling, I know; But my heart — yes, my heart deeply sigh'd to relieve— What I had not, poor Beggar, I could not bestow. occasional pi: TO THE AURA POPULAR1S. Virtus ^™™™*™** Nee swnit tint poult secures Arbiirio popular is aurm* HOB, CD, 2, lib, 3, Thou flattVing breeze, that canst impart Some pleasure to the noblest heart $ (For tho 5 the truly wise ne'er prize thee, But few have firmness to despise thee.) To thee, by whim or thought imprest, My present strain is now addrest; But mark — nor let my coldness hurt thee $ I neither mean to slight nor court thee* Eolus, in his storehouse large, 'Mong all the winds he has in charge, On strictest search, will never find So welcome, and so lov'd a wind. In vain the Zephyr's gentlest breeze May whisper thro' the quivering trees ; OCCASIONAL PIECES. The Blackbird's song, the Linnet's note, Along the trembling air may float, And every tuneful throat may join, To make a concert quite divine ; In vain may music's tuneful art, Strive, thro' the ear, to touch the heart, IF on the raptur'd nerve imprest, Thy sound shall cheer the longing breast, When fond admiring crowds shall raise The murmuring din of distant praise. No other sound, however dear, Can then engage the ravish'd ear; And tho' thy voice is somewhat hoarse, The lack of sweetness adds to force. The starving Poet, oft confin'd, Camelion-like, to feed on wind, Who skill'd, of course, in such like foodj Knows what is bad, and what is good, Will tell of all the puffs of air, On which he is" condemn'd to fare, Thy breath the choicest dainties brings, And strengthening lifts his fancy's wings, C2 OCCASIONAL PIECES. When so reduc'd, by meagre diet, A Birth-day ctde she scarce can try at- So litde by the muse he gets, 5 Tis almost all the food he eats, If such ill luck do not betide him, That e'en this pittance is deny'd him. But beneficial still art thou, To some on whom thou deignst to blow ; To draw the crowd to Thelwall's rostrum, To give a^ name to GodbokPs nostrum, To get large bets on Ste'enson's heels, To keep L .- J s coach upon its wheels, Or cause a rage (this verse no scoff is). For lott'ry shares at Hazard's office. Thou giv'st to Katerfelto's stone, A pow'r superipr to its owr^j And to the poctor's satisfaction, Doublest the magnet's strong attraction, Which draws (to its kind master useful) Of gaping folks a crowded housefuL OCCASIONAL PIECES* TO ANNA. Should care on my brow e'er display its stern feature,. Or attention the lustre exhaust in my eye, Fatigue oft will cast a dull languor o'er nature^ And reflection will force from the bosom a sigh. But, love, to thy breast let distrust never enter, Thy swain thou canst ne'er of indifPrence reprove ; In thee my fond cares, my affections all centre, Nor stray, for a moment, from Anna and love*. Ah! list not to fancy's deceitful suspicion^ For fancy to error, not truth, is the guide ; Let reason dispel front your mind the dark vision*. And, my fair, to be happy, learn first to confide : Let peace be once more in your bosom reseated, Nor let fear from its post the sweet cherub remove ^ Ah ! think on the promise so often repeated, That I. ne'er should be faithless to— Anna and love* OCCASIONAL PIECES, Wheresoever its course the swift vessel is steering, Across the wide ocean, by compass so true To the pole, as the needle is constantly veering; 'Tis thus,, my fond thoughts still returning to you. Sturdy care, for a while, will obtrude on attention, Yet my heart fronvits favorite object not move ; Exulting I turn from a moment's suspension, To think with new rapture on— r- Anna and love. TO SLEEP. In vain, gentle friend to the weary, I sought On my soft downy pillow thy solace to find, To arrest the wild errors of wandering thought, And to soothe the keen anguish that prey'd on my mind. In vain do I court thee thy poppies to shed, Thy poppies with virtue Lethean endued ; Ah! wildly coquettish, thou fly'st from my bed, And leav'st me still tost by a tempest so rude. OCCASIONAL PIECES. If, at length, thou shouldst grant to my sorrow-stainM eyes, A transient suspension of pain to enjoy; Yet thy £ancy*£orm'd train of dark spectres arise, Interrupting ifty fest> if they cannot destroy. Like the minions of fortune, thou always art found Where affliction an entrance has never obtain'd ; Where plenteously blessings already abound, Where grief has not tortur'd, nor anguish has pain'd. Why alone to the woe-begone mourner a foe, For the balm of repose shall he fruitlessly pray ? Is there something uncouth in the aspect of woe ? Is there something that scares thee, soft phantom, away ? The vacant, the careless, the gay, and the free, Uncourted, thy peace-giving blessings obtain, While those may solicit in vain, who, like me, Are wounded by sorrow, or tortur'd with pain. 10 OCCASIONAL PIECES. TO MY PEN. Little pliant, passive tool, Employed alike by wit and fool* By high and low of all conditions, By Poets, Beaux, and Politicians, By Doctors, Parsons, ledgerM cits, By Lawyers, Clerks, and would-be Wits : These all thy uses know full well, These all can of thy service tell, Yet none of them, in tuneful lays, E'er thought thee worth one line of praise. When in their service worn quite put, Too oft the thoughtless, thankless rout No signs of gratitude display, But cast thee carelessly away, Among the sweepings of the floor To lie, and ne*er be thought of more ; OCCASIONAL PIECES. 11 Or toss thee (shameful !) on the fire*, On smoking sea-coal to expire. So, when advanced their private ends, Some men forget their kindest friends ; So Ministers, on heights sublime, Forget the steps by which they climb, And elevated next the throne, Oft kick their friendly ladder down, Slave to the Muse's scribbling train, Must thou for them still drudge in vain? Conductor of the Poet's fire, Must thou unnotic'd then expire, And ne'er on thee the grateful Bard Bestow one verse, thy blest reward,? Forbid it all ye tuneful throng! Forbid it all ye powers of song! Bards and their pens, like friend and brother, Should kindly recommend each other. Without a recollective sigh, Thou shalt not in oblivion lie ,• 12 OCCASIONAL PIECES. This verse will shew how much I prize thee- And could I — Pd immortalize thee. Thou ne'er shalt stain the guiltless page, With the mad strains of party rage ; No virtuous character defame, Or tinge the modest cheek with shame ; Or ever publish venal lays, To any worthless patron's praise ; Or e'er, the sense of shame forgot, Careless let fall a vicious blot. Be this my sole design and end, To prove thee ever virtue's friend, And still thro' life determined shew To vice an unrelenting foe : And then if honest fame refuse A wreath to grace my humble muse, I blame not her— but must infer it— Mv verse has had no real merit. OCCASIONAL PIECES. 13 TO A FRIGHTED HARE, Little timid creature stay ! Why so hastily away ? Tremble not at sight of me, I shall never injure thee. Tho' too many of my race, Joying in the cruel chase, Thee with eager shouts pursue, Flying o'er the morning dew ; Judge not of us all by those, Trembler — all are not thy foes. Some there are of hearts humane, Where the gentler passions reign, Thinking stepdame nature hard, Pitying, view with kind regard, Thy untoward hapless fate, And thy weak defenceless state, Safe from terrors and alarms, Thou might'st shelter in their arms. D 14 OCCASIONAL PIECES. Wandering o'er the vernal meads, Whither contemplation leads, Or to mark the opening spring, Or to hear the warblers sing, Or to waste the lonely hours, Culling wildly scattered flowers j Or by Luna's placid light, When I woo the silent night, PleasM, I oft unseen survey All your sportive am'rous play, Revelling in hasty joys, While unscar'd by hated noise ; Should my errant, feet too rude, On your frolic sport intrude ; Should that hated form appear, Swift you fly in wildest fear, Trembling seek a safe retreat, Borne away on sinews fleet. Little timid creature say, Why so swift you flee away J OCCASIONAL PIECES, Too much cause thou hast indeed, Fearful wand'rer for thy dread ; Not a beast on earth that goes Numbers such a host of foes* Haply soaring on the sky, As the eagle passes by, Darting from his airy steep, On thy placid noonday sleeps Bears thee to the cliffy brow Nodding o'er the main below, Where impatient for their food, Famish'd scream his callow brood. Or on earth, or in the air, Foes surround thee ev'ry where, Watching, 0*> by night or day, Thee to make their destin'd prey; Ne'er exempt from fatal harms, All thy life is but alarms. Chiefly man's tyrannic sway, He who boasts of reason's ray, He whose heart alone can feel Pity's softly sighing thrill, 16 OCCASIONAL PIECES, By uncounted numbers slain, Basely desolates the plain. Panting o'er the weary fields, What a savage joy it yields, Ev'ry little art to foil, Circumvent each subtile wile, And with stubborn patience trace, All the mazes of thy race, Till exhausted, breathless worn, Thou by bloody hounds art torn. Fly then, timid creature, fly ! All thy fears I justify; Thou who hast the savage try'd, How canst thou in man confide ? OCCASIONAL PIECES* 17 • MltriKMMI* ADDRESS TO GENIUS. All hail I thou potent energy of mind, Fancy and judgment in one point combin'd, To thee the muse her duteous tribute brings, Bend from thy throne and listen while she sings ; Thy works enlivening form her chief delight, Pains lose their anguish, care its leaden weight, When thou in all thy native beauties drest, Pour'st lenient balm, and sooth'st the troubled breast. By some strange magic. can thy language charm, And soft infuse its influence kind and warm, Till by degrees the melting heart is won, And as soft wax before the noonday sun, Pliant receives whatever form imprest,— Thy cogent lines so moulds th' enraptur'd breasfc Without thy aid the tuneless verse would flow, In jarring numbers^ spiritless and slow ; No polish'd lines would smoothly glide along^ No strength or elegance adorn the song j D 2 18 OCCASIONAL PIECES. Without thee all tuition is but vain, Witness poor Marcus' unproductive brain. In vain are all the lectures of the schools, To form the mind by dull didactic rules, If in that mind thou stern deny'st to smile, Or grant thy power to fertilize the soil. As wide the aerial eagle takes his flight, In purest aether far from human sight, On nervous pinions pois'd, sublimely rides, And o'er the clear cerulean concave glides ; Far down beneath observant of his prey. The lazy kite pursues his circling way ; The lark, tho' skill'd to climb the morning skies, His highest flight can scarce to midway rise ; Nor can the falcon's swifter pinions bear His rapid flight to such a pitch in air. Such is the mind which thou hast given to soar, Thro' paths of science unpursu'd before ; With strengthen'd wing he cleaves dark error's cloud, And far beneath him leaves the wond'ring crowd : — There in clear skies (no intervening shade) OCCASIONAL PIECES. 19 Truth's brightest radiance spotless shines display'd,- In search of science, takes his rapid flight, Far as the solar rays transmit their light,— Dives to the centre, to the stars aspires, Thro' cities wanders, or to groves retires* If this low system we inhabit here, Be for his ample mind too strait a sphere, One single effort can transport him far Beyond the light of the remotest star ; There plac'd on high, serene he views the whole Of all creation's boundless system rolL Where'er thy fair celestial radiance shines, Each object glows, and ev'ry scene refines ; A fresher green the verdant vales display, With higher tints the flow'rets greet the day, And thicker leaves the shady groves adorn, More gaily smile the waving crops of corn; With sweeter murmurs glides the stream along, And more melodious floats the warbler's song. To rugged rocks, and barren deserts, thou Canst graces lend, and thousand charms bestow: 20r OCCASIONAL PIECES* With pleasure o'er the boundless wilds v/e hie,-. Peep o'er the precipice with trembling joy ; Forbidding horrors banish'd by degrees, E'en drear deformity itself can please. Enchanting pow'r ! ah leave dark- vice's shade 1 From all her votaries, ah withdraw thine aid ! Thy magic pencil never more impart To hide their frauds, or aid her guileful art ; To bid her charms in borrow'd graces shin^,- By touch etherial heighten'd to divine, To virtue all thy kind assistance lend, Ah ! be to virtue, as the muse, a friend ; Then shall the hag no more triumphant reign, But, lash'd by scorpions, fly the sacred plain, Where thou and virtue hand in hand unite, And wide diffuse your radiant heavenly light. By thee unsanction'd, then shall crimes no more Dare to appear, but murm'ring leave the shore ; No more shall fraud in specious habit rove ? Or vile seduction wear the mask of love ; OCCASIONAL PIECES. 21 No more, beneath the name of harmless joy ? Intemperance shall the vital pow'rs destroy ; Or calumny, like purest friendship show, And watch its time to give the secret blow. Do thou divest them of their dark disguise, Which hides their foulness from all common eyes: Then swept away, before thy dreaded ire, Back to their'native shades the fiends retire. Point thou the way r and show the bright abode, The mole-ey'd atheist shall discern a God ; Sudden the mists of prejudice shall flee Far from around him, rarify'd by thee ; No more proud blasphemy shall foul his tongue, But wond'ring how his reason, dark so long, Such obvious truths could pass unheeded by, He owns the Deity with heartfelt joy, — Exulting, flies to join the grateful train, And praise triumphant fills the sacred fane. 22 OCCASIONAL PIECES, TO A VIOLET. Beneath a spreading hawthorn's shade. Deep hid within the sylvan glade ; In some sequestered hedge-row's side, Thy modest head thou lov'st to hide r No gaudy tints thy leaves display, No painted tulip's rich array, And deck'd in no fantastic guise, Thou striv'st to. draw admiring eye§: But drest in purple sober hue, Retiring from the forward view, Within thy mantling leaves of green, Thou seem'st to wish to live unseen. But ah ! the scents that Zephyrs bear, Diffusive thro' the vernal air ; To all the sweet recess disclose, From whence the balmy fragrance flows : And tho' sharp pointed thorns around, All entrance bar, and threat to wound, — • OCCASIONAL PIECES. 23 The swain enamour' d of thy sweets, The hostile points undaunted meets : The well defended entrance tries, Nor rests till thou art made his prize ; While crimson drops that trickle down, Display the toil he's undergone* Ah ! would the Fair these truths discern, From thee this useful lesson learn, The trifling arts of dress despise, And woman's truest knowledge prize ; Spurn tyrant fashion's fripp'ry bands, Reject false taste's supreme commands,, Adorn with care the pliant mind, With love of truth and sense refin'd: Then would they shine divinely fair, And worthy of our utmost care ; Then would our hearts a passion own, Not sprung from outward charms alone,— A double chain would bind us fast, And make the cordial union last, 24 OCCASIONAL PIECES. TO A WITHERED ROSE. Ah, once fair flow'r, thy roseat bloom is fled ! Withered thy leaves, and languid droops thy head ! Late o'er the gay parterre thy beauties shone 'Midst a fair group, unequal'd and alone : Surrounding rivals all with envy nVd ; By all the tribes of buzzing beaux adinir'd; By fanning Zephyrs gentle airs cares t, That idly loitering on thy fragrant breast, Steal balmy odours grateful to the sense, And wide around the ambrosial sweets dispense. Pluck'd from the stem where sister roses grew, And whence thy charms their kind nutrition drew, No more their leaves a vivid freshness boast, But all the deeply blushing hue is lost. Their sweet perfume those shrivel' d leaves retain, Their odours undiminished still remain ; OCCASIONAL PIECES. And full as grateful, as when on the bough. Thou didst within thy native garden blow. Reflecting on thy fate, still fragrant rose, The pensive muse this moral emblem draws ; — When bending age, slow creeping, comes apace, And steals the charms from fair Eliza's face ; Then when her speaking eye no more shall move Each swain to rapture, and each heart to love,' — Virtue remains her brightest — greatest charm, 'Tis this we love, and love without alarm ; This shines the noblest beauty of the fair, — No charm is wanting, if but virtue's there. 26 OCCASIONAL PIECIS THE WILL-A-WISP AN ECLOGUE. What time the sun had from the skies withdrawn, When, with soft light the moon resplendent shone, Thro' the tall forests close embowering height, Her gilded crescent shed uncertain light, While pensive William held his dubious way, Alone conducted by the flitting ray. Swift thro' the trees the hastening shepherd hi\l, To meet his love, his long intended bride ; Full forty furlongs, o'er the heathy moor, The swain must travel, ere he reach her door* That length of journey still did William find. When he had left the gloomy wood behind. Now vap'ry clouds obscur'dthe silver moon, Which thro' the floating veil but faintly shone OCCASIONAL PIECES. 27 And now quick traveling o'er the dreary waste, The swain enamor'd half his toil had pass'd,— - When lo ! an envious meteor's errant light Deceitful shone, and cheats his eager sight : " Yonder's the cottage " (to himself he cries) " Where Mary's charms shall greet my longing eyes ; There shall my toil a blissful solace find, In talk with her, so gentle and so kind :— Lovely — she is so witty and so gay,— With her how swift the moments steal away ! So sweet she looks, whatever she does or says, I could forever hear, forever gaze. Care-worn no more with wakeful love I'll pine, She shall — the lovely Mary shall be mine ;— I cannot think she would my proffer slight, She surely would not, if I think aright. As once I urg'd my suit and warmly prest ('Twas when reclining on her snowy breast) I told her, would she but consent to join ' - The hand I held, in wedlock's bands with mine, 28 OCCASIONAL PIECES, No peasant low, or splendid prince so high, Could taste such joys, or be so blest as I ; She blush'd, and silent drew her hand away ; She said not yes — but yet she said not nay : Her blushing cheek, her speaking eye confest, I then, at last, her kind esteem possest : So sweet she looks, whate'er she does or says, I could forever hear, forever gaze. O when she's mine, then with the Lark I'll rise, Soon as the sun-beam paints the eastern skies ; To fetch my kine, I'll cross the dewy plain, Assist to milk, and drive to field again. When summer comes, we'd toil the livelong day, I'd mow the grass, and she should make the hay : When yellow harvest waves along the field, Together we'd our crooked sickles wield ; Pleas'd would we lay the weighty sheaves along, And sooth our labors with a cheerful song. How gaily would I ply the whirling flail To thrash the corn — she'd winnow in the gale i OCCASIONAL PIECES. 29 While loaves or cakes, prepar'd by hands so neat, To me would taste with relish doubly sweet : So sweet she looks, whatever she does or says, I could forever hear, forever gaze." — With strains like these, the swain beguil'd his care, Of fraud mistrustless, or not well aware ; And as the rude spontaneous numbers flow'd, The quick succession cheats the tedious road: Heedless he runs to gain the faithless light, Nor aught suspects, nor weens himself not right; He fondly hoping soon the cot to gain, Misguided wanders o'er the trackless plain. * At length, when long he'd roam'd the wide spread waste, And far beyond the wish'd for cottage past, Sudden from sight the sportive flame withdrew,— He stop'd, amaz'd, and wist not what to do ! Then straight emerging shone a radiant beam, And trembling quiver 5 d on a purling stream That cross'd his path — confounded stood the swain y And sunk exhausted on the heathy plain, E2 30 OCCASIONAL PIECES. No purling stream had cross'd his path before, Nor could he guess what ground he'd travell'd o'er; Yet stung with rage, impatient of deky, He rose, and backward trod his devious way : Here fortune prov'd to 'wilder'd William kind (Dame fortune's acts are always vague and blind) She led his steps thro' bogs and buhsy dells, Straight to the cottage where his Mary dwells, — She waiting sat (nor reck'd the midnight hour) For William's promis'd coming o'er the moor. The weary' d swain his sad mischance relates, His toilsome wand'ring, and vexatious straits ; She laugh'd to hear — then gave a tender smile, i Glad William saw, nor ru'dhis former toil. OCCASIONAL PIECES. 31 THE UNIVERSAL WISH. What may the muse presume to call The Universal Wish of all ? The wish of all will surely be, If I mistake not — Liberty I Of life it is the sweetest zest, Not monarchs are without it blest ; The peasant eats with greater glee, His crust of bread in Liberty. Yon birds that flutter in the cage, And peck their prison bars in rage, Their only wish is to be free, — Such are the charms of Liberty ! Old Roger, weary'd with the life He leads with Kate, his scolding wife, 32 OCCASIONAL PIECES* Sighs to himself — ah woe is me i Were I but once at Liberty ! The thief in grated room confin'd, Sighs after freedom in his mind ; And if some wealthy cit he see— - Cries — were I but at Liberty ! The wealthy ward, from window high, Beholds her lover passing by : were I but at age ! cries she,— 1 then should be at Liberty ! The school-boy for some heinous fault, Shut up in dark coal-hole or vault, Impatient hears his comrade's glee, And pants to be at Liberty ! The miser's hoard with longing eyes, The heir presumptive views, and cries,- would the old Curmudgeon die, 1 then should be at Liberty ! OCCASIONAL PIECES. 33 Behold on Britain's ample plain, Content, and wealth, and commerce reign ; Around the waving harvests see, And all the joys of Liberty ! But view our potent neighbor's coasts O'errun with fierce embattled hosts -, On all sides want and ruin see — Fruits of mistaken Liberty ! That Britain long may flourish fair, Is every Briton's wish and prayer ; And may we live from factions free, And ne'er misuse our Liberty ! Ye Gods ! your crowns, and wealth, and power, On those who wish them — plenteous shower ; And only grant, I pray to me — Health, and the goddess Liberty! 34 OCCASIONAL PIECLS. VERSES occasioned by a Flight of a Linnet, which had been sing- ing on the top of a Beech, at the foot of which the Author was reclined. Say, tuneful Bird, that o'er my head, Sequestered in the lonely bower, Thy wildly-warbling note didst pour, Ah ! why so soon capricious fled ? Here I could loiter hours away, On springing vi'iets laid along, Nor grudge to waste the vernal day, In listening only to thy seng. Sweet fugitive 5 devoid of fear, Renew thy gladd'ning, welcome strain ; Return, ah ! soon return again, Nor fancy hidden dangers here : On plunder bent, unfeeling boys These sacred haunts ne'er dare invade, OCCASIONAL PIECES. 35 Nor vex with harsh discordant noise, The lonely, unfrequented shade. Ah ! why this long-protracted stay ? Does some gay wanton's call of love Allure thy errant flight to rove Thro'devious woodlands far away? Deaf to the Syren's artful voice, Return, ah! soon return again ! Bid these dull scenes again rejoice, And sing once more thy melting strain. Sweet fugitive ! thy song is o'er ! I hear no longer trembling float, The wildly-free extatic note — And the still grove now charms no mon A transient hour may thus impart, The raptur'd bliss we dearly prize, But scarcely can it reach the heart, Before the short-liv'd transport dies, — - 36 OCCASIONAL PIECES. VERSES written on setting at liberty a Butterfly, flittering against ?ny Window. Go, fluttering prisoner, seek the flow'ry fields, And beat with joyful wing thy native air ; What parent Nature's equal bounty yields, (Thy favVite sweets) in perfect freedom share ; O'er thee, I'll ne'er usurp the tyrant right, To check thy wand'ring, or restrain thy flight. So short the time that marks thy utmost date, I'd not abridge thy transient joys an hour — Go, follow circling wild, thy wand'ring mate, And chase the fair coquette from flow'r to flow'r ; Perhaps, e'en now, with boding fear distrest, She sits impatient on the thistle's breast. OCCASIONAL PIECES. 37 Some time, perhaps, when wayward fancy leads> To wander where autumnal blossoms blow, I'll spy thee, hov'ring o'er the fragrant meads, And see thy bright wings in the sun-beams glow : But wilt thou, little insect, know 'twas me, Whose friendly hand from thraldom set thee free ? Ah ! no, thy thoughtless bosom ne'er retains One fleeting trace of all the moments past ; Engvoss'd alone by present joys or pains, Each new event obliterates the last : Yet, tho' the kindness meet no due regard, I feel, the conscious pleasure brings its own reward. 38 OCCASIONAL PIECES. TO CLEANTHE. Tell me, unfeeling maid, of sordid mould, Whose thoughts the charms of wealth alone approve Say, can your glittVing, dear lovM idol — gold, Compensate for the bliss of mutual love ? To win the rich prize to your longing arms, Try ev'ry scheme, that talces th' unwary heart ; With practised skill display your brightest charms. Spread ev'rv lure, and practise ev'ry art. And then with downcast, passion-feigning eye, Falsly reluctant take, the offer' cl hand; At Hymen's altar lisp the conscious lie, With mock confusion, and demeanor blaih In proud magnificence, ah ! roll along, The glittYmg slave of pageant-loving prici OCCASIONAL PIECES. 39 MM »«••«• • ••» • And shine supreme amidst the birthnight throng, (Much envyM lot) some Timon's splendid bride. These all my pity, more than envy raise ; The arts of pride reflection cannot drown ; And while your face the mask of mirth displays, Your aching heai* will sigh for bliss unknown* Mine be the maid whose sentiments refin'd, Not fortune with her golden lure can move ; Who seeks alone the mutual-kindling mind, And nobly asks for nought in love, but love. With gen'rous scorn*' her guileless soul disdains The poor low triumph of a little mind, To smile exulting o'er ^Lover's pains, And taunt the wretch to misery consigned. Tender, ingenuous, devoid of art, Not meaning ill, nor idly fearing wrong, The genuine dictates of her gentle heart, Flow pure and artless from her faithful tongue. 40 OCCASIONAL PIECES. Truth should her brightest, richest meed prepare, To bless the maid, who does her truth avow ; And on the tender, and the constant fair, Should Love and Faith their choicest gifts bestow. Unfriended let him live, that can deceive, And that kind heart to lovelorn woe consign ; For him no sympathizing bosom heave, That, wanton, e'er shall force a sigh from thine. OCCASIONAL PIECES. 41 FORCE OF VIRTUE. A tear bedew'd Monimia's eye, And her soft bosom heav'd a sigh, A sigh that told her deep distress, When young Lothario, gay and bold, His wild licentious wishes told, Those wishes virtue would s repress. a Apostate now to love and truth, And canst thou ask me-— ^recreant youth ! To grant thee all thy wild desire ? Ah! soon — full soon the witless maid, By love and boundless trust betrayed Shall see thy transient flame expire. Tell me no more of beauties bright, Thou'lt spurn them from thy loathing sight, When once thou seest them stain'd with crime ; I 2 42 OCCASIONAL PIECES. Soon will thy satiate passion sleep, And then must I forsaken weep, And joyless pass the lingering time* Ah ! if to be thy virtuous bride, Is the blest lot to me deny'd, Then let us now forever part ; If in thy breast I only claim The wishes of a lawless flame, I'll tear thy image from my heart," Virtue's firm voice the youth appall'd, And honor's conscious sense recall'd, Extinct in passion's giddy hour — And now, tho' many years are flown, Monimia hears the husband own Her beauty's unabated pow'r. - OCCASIONAL PIECES. 4o CONTENT: A VISION, 'Twas underneath a poplar shade, Alone, I pensive musing stray'd ; The lengthening boughs luxuriant spread Their foliage rustling o'er my head, While thro' them quiv'ring in the gale, All trembling shot the moon-beams pale ; Not far I heard upon the road, The carman drive his rumbling load ; And passing thro' the soften'd gleam, Jocund he whistled to his team. " How happy is yon swain," I cry'd, And I (but not for envy) sigh'd, " No proud ambition fires his breast, Or anxious cares disturb his rest ; His toil supplies his daily bread, And smooths at night his homely bed ; 44 .OCCASIONAL -PIECES. .*•.*»»»***»»*»• Contented with his portion scant, His only wish is — not to want. While wit and genius so desir'd, So much applauded and admir'd, From those who do them most possess, But serve to banish happiness ; Nor wealtknor envy'd honor fjwbiuj Enjoy'd without ; attendant care." As meditating thus Istray'd, I sat me down beneath the shade- While on the verdant turf reclin'd, Soft sleep o'ercame my weary mind ; When suddeii to my wand'ring sight, Appear'd a form divinely bright : So soft and graceful was her air, She might with Venus well compare. The robe she wore was purest white, Bound with a rosy girdle tight ; Her hair hung loose and unconfin'd, In ringlets wanton' d in the wind; Her blushing cheek surpassed the rose, Her swelling bosom purest snows ; OCCASIONAL PIECES. 45 The flowerets bloom'd beneath her feet, With charms more fair and breath more sweet. Advancing near, " Fond youth," she cries, (Reproof soft beaming in her eyes) " Why dost thou thoughtlessly repine, For that content which may be thine ? These fruitless, needless, plaints repress, 'Tis men who make their own distress ; When not contented with their lot, They only think of what they've not : They'll drop a true substantial prize, To catch a shadow as it flies. Content's the chiefest wish of all, Yet on how few the lot does fall ! They oft too inconsid'rate range, The means too oft they fondly change ; Her steps they in each object see, But she's not in variety. You poets too have help'd the cheat, And added to the vain deceit. Some say she's in the rural scene, With rustics dancing on the green; 46 OCCASIONAL PIECES. Or else among the shepherd swains, Who tend their flocks on verdant plains* Some on a murm'ring riv'let's side, Whose waters o'er smooth pebbles glide ; . And some midst shady >bow?rs« and groves, And where the love-.lofm virgin roves. Say why the rural scene delights? Or why the murm'ring stream invites ? And why the simple swains, who keep On verdant plains their fleecy sheep.} Are so much happier thought than you, Who ardently content pursue ? 'Tis not for this — that there alone Content and peace have rear'd their throne- Content resides not here or there, 'Tis no where, or. 'tis every where* And those of just enough posses*, In humble happy ign'rance blest ; Their sober minds ne'er learn'd to soar Beyond their state, or wish for more.' Go! — and contract each vain desire, Which pride or envy would inspire, OCCASIONAL PIECES. 47 And keep yourself within the state Prescribed by fortune, will, or fate; Dismiss inquiry, and you'll find, Contentment centered in the mind. TO ELIZA. Upon Eliza's lovely face, I saw imprinted every grace That can, or captivate the heart, Or pleasure to the soul impart ; The charms that in her person shone, Were equal'd by her mind alone- Soft hope thus whisper'd in my ear — (Her soothing voice I ravishM -hear) The charms thy longing eyes now see, May be enjoyVl, blest youth I by thee. 48 OCCASIONAL PIECES-. To hope I all my soul resign'd, She pour'd such rapture o'er my mind, That to the sweet impulse I gave Myself, with joy, a willing slave : While thus my thoughts enraptured rove, And hope augments the fire of Love, I start, with sudden dread, to hear Despair thus thunder in my ear, — Fond youth, the false illusion flee, Such pleasure was not made for thee. The pleasing phantoms hope had rais'd, All fled confounded and amaz'd, My senses were in stupor bound, Stunn'd by despair's terrific sound : Now doubts and fears so intervene, That hope is but a distant scene ; No more I hear th' enchanting voice, That bids each human heart rejoice ; I fear the dread event will be, These pleasures were not made for me. OCCASIONAL PIECES. 49 Whether despair or hope said true, Must be, my fair, reveal'd by you ; On you my hopes and fears rely, To bid me live, or doom to die ; Your lovely charms my passions move, And waken all my soul to love : Ah ! triumph not in causing grief, And then withhold the wish'd relief, But let — ah ! let yqur sentence be, LovM swain, I give myself to thee* 50 OCCASIONAL PIECES. DELIA : A PASTORAL BALLAD — IN TOUR PARTS. LOVE. I no longer, as usual, can boast Of an heart that's unfettered with cars e All my wonted indiflPrence I've lost, Since first I saw Delia the fair. The first time I saw the sweet maid, Like a bride look so blooming and gay, Thrilling transports around my heart play'd, But with Delia they vai)ish'd away. 2 Twas from her I this pleasure receiv'd: At length by experience I find, Tho', indeed, I could scarce have believ'd 5 Love e'er w r ould have enter'd my mind ; For I oft thought that Poets had feigu'd, The soft tales they related of Love ; OCCASIONAL PIECES. 51 That the violence of passion was strain VI, But, alas ! quite mistaken I prove ! For no language can ever reveal, Tho' drest with the Bard's utmost art. The tumult of passions I feel> Or the anguish that preys at my heart : So careless of late I have grown, I've unthinkingly broken my hook ; By a riv'let as late I sat down, My scrip tumbled into the brooks O'er the plains my poor lambkins now roam, Unregarded their bleatings resound ; I ne'er bring the poor wanderers home, But leave them all scatter'd around : Thro' the vales, thro' the woodlands \ stray, Their beauties I've often admir'd, Now I wander, I care not which way, And at night come home weary' d and tir'd. Once how lovely the vale did appear, What charms in each scene did I see ; 32 OCCASIONAL PIECES. Still the face of the vallies are fair, But now they've no beauties for me a Two turtles with pleasure I view'd, As they sat on the quivering' spray \ Responsive they courted and coo'd— * But I now from the scene turn away. For this anguish and pain I endure, Can a remedy never be found ? Ah ! no one this anguish can cure, But she who inflicted the wound : Yet if my complaint she won't hear, The fruitless pursuit I'll give o'er ; From my- bosom her image I'll tear, And think of fair Delia no more* But, alas 1 'twill be labor in vain, To attempt to forget that I love, (Love will always it's empire regain) 'Tis too fast with my heart interwove ! Will the fair my petition disdain ? Will she turn with contempt from my sighs } OCCASIONAL PIECES. S3 No ; her heart is too soft to give pain, Or I read a false.tale in her eyes. An aspect so mild oan't conceal In it's bosom an heart that's unkind^ For 'tis said that the eyes will reveal The passion that rules in the mind ; Then I'll venture to hope she will hear, With pity, the tale of her swain j From my heart I will banish all fear, And hie to her over the plain.. PART THE SECOND, SOLICITUDE. How perplexing a state is suspense ; How heaves my full bosom with care ; I can never expel it from hence, Whilst suspended 'twixt hope and despair* Should I fancy my fair may be kind, I dare scarcely encourage the thought. g2 54 OCCASIONAL PIECES, Or indulge the soft hope in my mind, Since a frown may reduce it to nought. Yet, alas ! if I strive to repel, By reflection the passion I feel, My affections 'gainst reason rebel, And love on my purpose will steal ; Something whispers and kindly imparts, That our passion may mutual be ; That a sympathy dwells in the hearts, Those hearts that were born to agree. As a loadstone the needle will draw, Thus attractive's the influence of Love ; So I think — and I hope 'twill be so : My complaint her kind pity will move : Come hope ! thou sweet soother of grief, Still thy pow'r so composing impart ; Ah, still pour thy balmy relief On the anguish that preys on my heart! How my heart palpitates if I see Any maid tripping over the plain; OCCASIONAL PIECES. SB Then I wish it my Delia might be, But, alas I my fond wishes are vain. I met her, 'twas not long ago, A week, His I think, at the most, Near her door, as I happen'd to go To seek a stray lamb I h$d lost. I had pluck'd a sweet nosegay of flow'rs, And cull'd all the freshest and best ; She prais'd them-— I said they are yours ; She took them and pinn'd to her breast : Happy flow'rs ! — then I thought and I sigh'd, Might not I have that happiness too I Could the fair one to me have deny'd The place that she granted to you ? On my Delia's fond bosom reclin'd, The world's empty grandeur I'd scorn ; No anguish could then pierce my mind, Or care in my heart plant a thornj; No ! — cares to the winds I'd consign ; And but to taste rapture so sweet, £6 OCCASIONAL PIECES, All the splendor of wealth I'd resign, Or a crown, if 'twas laid at my feet How greatly the hours I should prize , In my Delia's society blest, If she kindly would pity my sighs, Nor disdain to recline on my breast ; What transports could then equal mine I Then wealth I'd leave, miser, to thee ; The sot might possess too his wine ; But. give gentle Delia to me. How much I their maxims despise, Who tell us that Love's, but a name ; That it never perplexes the wise, And the foolish alone feel the flame : Those cannot have hearts that say so, Or tasteless of pleasure must prove, And that too the chief man can know The rapturous pleasures of Love. OCCASIONAL PIECES* PART THE THIRD, INVITATION. O could I on Delia prevail, Along with her swain to retire, To the bow'r which I've reared in the vale, I am sure she'd the prospect admire : It is sheltered behind from the cold, By tall groves of the 'spiring fir tree ; In the front charming prospects unfold, Sloping gradually down to the sea. Gently murm'ring a rivulet glides, In mazy meanders just by, O'erhung with green sallows its sides, (Beneath their cool shade one may lie) And there as they playfully skim, On the surface so limpid and clear, 5fr OCCASIONAL PIECES, You may see all the fishes that swim, And their scales tipt with silver appear* My herds range at large o'er the plains, My Flocks clothe the valley with white, Plenteous stores too my dairy contains, From my cows drawn each morning and night ; Sweet melody reigns in my groves, Such, I know, would delight her to hear; The Linnets there warble their loves, And the Blackbird sits whistling near. The Goldfinch, the Lark, and the Thrush, To make a sweet concert conspire ; The Redbreast too, from the thorn bush, Joins his wild warbling note to the choir : There too we may oftentimes see, The nest of the wild Turtle-dove, Where she builds in some ivy -bound tree, Sweet emblem of conjugal love 1 Sometimes on the beach we would w r alk, When the waves gently break at our feet, OCCASIONAL PIECES. 59 Beguiling the time with our talk — And would not such converse be sweet? Or else on the cliff top so high, That juts o'er it's base to the main, We would oft the tall vessels espy, As they traverse the wide liquid plain, Oft we'd sit on the sloping green hill, Where it's sides are o'erspread with our flocks ,* Or rest on the bank near the rill, That gurgling rolls down from the rocks ; O ! did she but choose to retire, To those regions of pleasure serene, She could not (I think) but admire. The sweet rural charms of the scene* When every thing's smiling around, When every thing's festive and gay, In what heart can a murmur be found,' Or the least discontent ever stay ? Nought but scenes of "soft pleasure are here. And nought else e'er appears to the sight;- 60 OCCASIONAL PIECES. Yet these pleasures would Delia but share. It wouldfdoubly increase their delight. PART THE FOURTH. REJECTION. Go my flock where ye list on the plain, And leave your fond shepherd to \yeep ; I shall never be able again To guide your stray steps, my poor sheep : Ah do not your shepherd reprove, That he^ leaves you untended to stray ; Ere his heart felt the anguish of Love, He was never once out of the way. There was once that you never could stray, That you never untended could roam, For I constantly watch'd you all day, And at nightfall I gathered you home ; Ah ! that happiness lost now I mourn, I those days once so tranquil deplore, OCCASIONAL PIECES, 61 They are past, and will never return, I, alas ! shall be happy no more. So sweetly my Delia then smil'd, Her soft eyes spoke the language of Love, And, alas ! my fond heart she beguiPd, Nor could I resist if I'd strove : Why does love such soft wishes impart? Why plant in our bosoms desire ? Yet his influence confine to one heart, And not mutual impressions inspire* O ! ye Zephyrs, attend to my lay, Ah ! waft these sad sighs to my dear ; Ye gales on your wings, ah ! convey My complaints to my Delia's ear ; Ah ! tell her I constantly mourn, Ah ! tell her what anguish and pain I feel till she bid me return, And indulge my fond hopes once again* But, alas ! 'tis too true, I have heard Her reject all my vows with disdain ; ii 62 OCCASIONAL PIECES. When my suit I so -warmly preferrd. She told me. that suit was in vain : Now I wander alone through the grove, Quite forlorn and dejected I stray, Since Delia has slighted my love, Since Delia's rejected my lay. How I shrunk at the sentence severe, When I hop'd the reward of my paini Ah ! the sound still vibrates on my ear, Which told me my suit was in vain ! I could not once lift up my eyes, From her sight, as I silent withdrew ; My voice was so choak'd with my sighs, I scarcely could bid her adieu, I will hie to your shades — lonely woods-— Kindred glooms may invite to repose ; Heave your billows — ye turbulent floods 1 My bosom thus heaves with my woes : Ah ! still in your shades I shall sigh \ Sfeill my sorrows will follow me there i OCCASIONAL PIECES. 63 Hope, adieu ! — for wherever I fly, My attendants are grief and despair. HYMN TO CONTENTMENT. Is there a man, of sense refin'd, When sick'ning woes oppress his mind 5 When frustrate hope, or cold disdain, Infuse their life-embitt'ring pain, And bid him, with retorted scorn, The world and all its minions spurn ; That would from all these pangs be free, But sighs, and wistful looks to thee ? Is there a bard, of feelings strong, Who, lone, records the melting song, And to the passing breeze complains, And pours his soul in pensive strains, That doth not twine for thee the wreath, And ardent at thine altar breathe