KISSES.
CUPID, if storying Legends tell aright,

Once framed a rich Elixir of Delight,
A Chalice o'er love-kindled flames he fix'd,
And in it nectar and ambrosia mix'd :
With these the magic dews, which Evening brings,
Brush'd from the Idalian Star by faery wings:
Each tender pledge of sacred Faith he joined,
Each gentler pleasure of th' unspotted mind-
Day-dreams, whose tints with sportive brightness

glow,
And Hope, the blameless Parasite of Woe.
The eyeless Chemist heard the process rise,
The stearny Chalice bubbled up in sighs ;
Sweet sounds transpired, as when th' enamored

Dove
Pours the soft murm'ring of responsive love.
The finished work might Envy vainly blame,
And « Kisses was the precious compound's name;
With half the God his Cyprian Mother blest,
And breathed on Sara's lovelier lips the rest.

TO THE NIGHTINGALE. SISTER of love-lorn poets, Philomel !

How many bards in city garret pent, While at their window they with downward eye Mark the faint lamp-beam on the kennell’d mud, And listen to the drowsy cry of watchmen, Those hoarse, unfeathered nightingales of time ! How many wretched bards address thy name, And her's, the full-orb’d queen, that shines above,

THE RAVEN.

A CHRISTMAS TALE, TOLD BY A SCHOOL-BOY TO HIS

LITTLE BROTHERS AND SISTERS. UNDERNEATH an old oak tree

There was of swine a huge company, That grunted as they crunched the mast: For that was ripe, and fell full fast. Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high : One acorn they left, and no more might you spy. Next came a Raven, that liked not such folly : He belonged, they did say, to the witch Melancholy ! Blacker was he than blackest jet, Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet. He picked up the acorn and buried it straight By the side of a river both deep and great.

Where then did the Raven go ?

He went high and low,
Over hil, over dale, did the black Raven go.

Many Autumns, many Springs
Travelled he with wandering wings :
Many Summers, many Winters
I can't tell half his adventures.

At length he came back, and with him a She.
And the acorn was grown to a tall oak tree.
They built them a nest in the topmost bough,
And young ones they had, and were happy enow.
But soon came a woodman in leathern guise,
His brow, like a pent-house, hung over his eyes.
He'd an axe in his hand, not a word he spoke,
But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke,
At length he brought down the poor Raven's own

pak.

His
young ones were killed; for they could not

depart,
And their mother did die of a broken heart.
The boughs from the trunk the Woodman did sever;
And they floated it down on the course of the river.
They sawed it in planks, and its bark they did strip,
And with this tree and others they made a good ship.
The ship, it was launched; but in sight of the land
Such a storm there did rise as no ship could with-

stand. It bulged on a rock, and the waves rushed in fast: Round and round flew the Raven, and caw'd to the blast. He heard the last shriek of the perishing soulsSee! See! o'er the topmast the mad water rolls !

Right glad was the Raven, and off he went fleet, And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet, And he thank'd him again and again for this treat:

They had taken his all, and Revenge it was sweet!

ABSENCE.

A FAREWELL ODE, ON QUITTING SCHOOL FOR

JESUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
WHERE graced with many a classic spoil

Cam rolls his reverend stream along,
I haste to urge the learned toil
That sternly chides my love-lorn song:
Ab me! too mindful of the days
Illumed by Passion's orient rays,
When Peace, and Cheerfulness, and Health
Enriched me with the best of wealth.

Ah fair Delights! that o'er my soul
On Memory's wing, like shadows, fly!

Ah Flowers ! which Joy from Eden stole
While Innocence stood smiling by !-
But cease, fond Heart! this bootless moan:
Those Hours on rapid Pinions flown
Shall yet return, by Absence crowned,
And scatter livelier roses round.
The Sun who ne'er remits his fires
On heedless eyes may pour the day ;
The Moon, that oft from Heaven retires,
Endears her renovated ray.
What though she leave the sky unblest
To mourn awhile in murky vest ?
When she relumes her lovely Light,
We bless the Wanderer of the Night.

FARE "AREWELL parental scenes ! a sad farewell!

To you my grateful heart still fondly clings, Tho' fluttering round on Fancy's burnished wings Her tales of future Joy Hope loves to tell. Adieu, adieu! ye much loved cloisters pale! Ah! would those happy days return again, When 'neath your arches, free from every stain, I heard of guilt and wondered at the tale ! Dear haunts! where oft my simple lays I sang, Listening meanwhile the echoings of my feet, Lingering I quit you, with as great a pang, As when ere while, my weeping childhood, torn Bv v early sorrow from my native seat, Mingled its tears with hers—my widowed Parent

lorn.

TO THE MUSE.

THOUGH no bold flights to thee belong;

And though thy lays, with conscious fear,
Shrink from Judgment's eye severe,
Yet much I thank thee, Spirit of my song!
For, lovely Muse! thy sweet employ
Exalts my soul, refines my breast,
Gives each pure pleasure keener zest,
And softens Sorrow into pensive Joy.
From thee I learned the wish to bless,
From thee to commune with

my
From thee, dear Muse! the gayer part,
To laugh with Pity at the crowds, that press
Where Fashion flaunts her robes by Folly spun,
Whose hues gay varying wanton in the sun.

heart;

1789.

WITH FIELDING'S AMELIA.

VIRTUES and Woes alike too great for man

In the soft tale oft claim the useless sigh ;
For vain the attempt to realize the plan,

On folly's wings must imitation fly.
With other aim has Fielding here displayed

Each social duty, and each social care ;
With just yet vivid coloring portrayed

What every wife should be, what many are. And sure the Parent of a race so sweet With double-pleasure on the page shall dwell, Each scene with sympathizing breast shall meet, While Reason still with smiles delights to tell Maternal hope, that her loved Progeny In all but Sorrows shall Amelias be!