Sweet Hope! ethereal balm upon me shed, Whene'er I wander, at the fall of night, Where woven boughs shut out the moon's bright ray, Should sad Despondency my musings fright, And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away, Peep with the moonbeams through the leafy roof, And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof. Should Disappointment, parent of Despair, Strive for her son to seize my careless heart When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air, Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart: Chase him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright, And fright him, as the morning frightens night! Whene'er the fate of those I hold most dear Should e'er unhappy love my bosom pain, To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air! In the long vista of the years to roll, Let me not see our country's honour fade! O let me see our land retain her soul! Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom's shade. From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shedBeneath thy pinions canopy my head! Let me not see the patriot's high bequest, Bowing her head, and ready to expire: And as, in sparkling majesty, a star Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud; Brightening the half-veil'd face of heaven afar: So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, Sweet Hope! celestial influence round me shed, Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head. February, 1815. H ΤΟ ADST thou lived in days of old, Of thy lively countenance, And thy humid eyes, that dance Or the feathers from a crow Turn to whence they sprung before; Peeps the richness of a pearl. Downward too flows many a tress With a glossy waviness, Full, and round like globes that rise ⚫ From the censer to the skies Through sunny air. Add too, the sweetness Of thy honied voice; the neatness Of thine ankle lightly turn'd: With those beauties scarce discern'd, Round about with eager pry. Saving when with freshening lave, Thou dipp'st them in the taintless wave; Like twin water-lilies, born In the coolness of the morn. At least for ever, evermore Will I call the Graces four. Hadst thou lived when chivalry Lifted up her lance on high, Tell me what thou wouldst have been? Ah! I see the silver sheen Has placed a golden cuirass there, Like sunbeams in a cloudlet nested, Thy locks in knightly casque are rested; O'er his loins, his trappings glow Alas! thou this wilt never do: Thou art an enchantress too, Blood of those whose eyes can kill. Д SPECIMEN OF AN INDUCTION O! I must tell a tale of chivalry; ♦ mine eye. Not like the formal crest of latter days; For while I muse, the lance points slantingly With the young ashen boughs,'gainst which it rests, When the fire flashes from a warrior's eye, |