She comes! ye zephyrs bland,

Your purple plumes expand;

Ye blooming flowers, your balmy breath diffuse; Ye birds, with warbled air,

Salute the peerless fair,

Sacred to love, to beauty, and the muse.

R. A. DAVENPORT.

TO SLEEP.

THOUGH oft in hours of grief and pain,
Thy gentle slumbers, strength-restoring,
Have I, alas! invoked in vain ;

Yet, once again thy aid imploring,
I pour to thee, O Sleep, the strain.

Think not I ask thee to befriend

Awhile this breast in anguish sighing: To me no succour thou canst lend;

My woes, such feeble force defying,
A mightier power than thine must end.

But fly to Lesbia's couch, and there
Thy downy pinions lightly spreading,
Let no rude sound disturb the fair,
But, all thy balmy influence shedding,
Drive far away each anxious care.

And O thy visions, heavenly bright!
The soul from earthly thoughts relieving,
Around her spread, propitious sprite!
Sweetly her charmed sense deceiving,
Till rosy Morn command thy flight.

R. A. DAVENPORT.

ODE.

LET the sons of Lucre pine For glittering heaps of golden ore, To swell the' accumulated store, Contemn the terrors of the mine; Explore the caverns dark and drear, Mantled around with deadly dew; Where congregated vapours blue, Fired by the taper glimmering near, Bid dire explosion the deep realms invade, And earth-born lightnings gleam athwart the' infernal shade.

Pride, on thy vesture's purple fold,
Let the sky-tinctured sapphire blaze,
The emerald shed its milder rays,
And rubies blush in circling gold:
Low at thy nod let suppliants bow,
And crested chiefs precedence yield;
Thy hand the rod of empire wield,
And wreaths of triumph grace thy brow.
A nobler aim let my ambition own,
Be Love my empire, Lesbia's heart my throne!
Where into rage the wintry blast
Awakes old Ocean's slumbering wave,
Let Commerce urge her busy slave,
And elevate his trembling mast
Above the billowy precipice,

To meet the forked lightning's flash;
Then down the' adventurous vessel dash,
Foundering within the black abyss:

Or let his freight secure the surges sweep, And of their prey defraud the monsters of the deep:

VOL. III.

X

My bark the tide of young desire,
O Venus, to thy happy realm
Shall waft, fair Hope direct the helm,
Love's sighs the swelling sails inspire;
To thee, bright offspring of the wave,
I'll many an amorous vow prefer:
From storms of hate thy mariner
And blast of chill indifference save!
So to thy power I'll frame the votive lay,
And, moor'd in Lesbia's arms, confess thy sove-
reign sway.

Amid ensanguined fields of war,
Valour, be thy votary found;
Where crimson banners wave around,
The martial clarion, echoing far;
In vain gigantic Terror calls

His spectre shapes, a ghastly band:
Nor Discord, hurling high his brand,
Nor Danger's horrid front appals;

Nor Death his fierce unconquer'd soul can tame, Or from his grasp withhold the glorious meed of Fame.

But let me wander far away

From the loud drum and neighing steed, Through many a pansie-painted mead, Where Isis' bright-hair'd Naiads stray; High o'er my head a pendent bower Let the broad elm and branching pine With intermingling umbrage twine; There Love's impassion'd song I'll pour, And summon every wave that dances near, Bridling his wanton speed my Lesbia's praise to

hear.

Where the pale lamp's waning eye
At eve, from out the cloister'd nook,
Casts o'er the gloom a lingering look,
There let the sage his labours ply;
And many a feat of champion bold,
And many a legendary rhyme
Snatch from the sepulchre of Time,
And frequent, as the night grows old,
At fear-engender'd forms recoil aghast,
And hear unhallow'd ghosts wail in each hollow
blast.

But o'er my haunts with influence bland
Let evening fling her welcome shade:
Then mid the dance, O beauteous maid!
Let me thine unreluctant hand
Enraptured seize: or let the lyre,
Obedient to thy soft control,

Bind in harmonious chains my soul,
And ecstasy and bliss inspire;

While to the charmed ear in heavenly strains, Enamour'd of thy touch, each trembling chord complains.

Then, fairest, let my bosom feel
Thy smile's exhilarating power,

Grateful as, mid noon's sultry hour,

The grot where trickling dews congeal :
And, in the rich grape's purple tide
When Joy and genial Pleasure swim,
Do thou but kiss its crystal brim,
And to the bard the goblet guide;

So shall my song exalt thy praise above
Hebe, who bids o'erflow the nectar'd cup of Jove.

REV. G. HUDDISFORD.

AMATORY ODE.

Now hath the Sun his evanescent fires

Quench'd in the billows of the western main; Cease their soft carols all the feather'd choirs, And gloomy solitude usurps the plain.

Rise, ye deep shades, ye waves in darkness roll,
Ye feather'd choirs, to silence yield the grove,
For Lesbia sleeps: nor cheers my pensive soul
The glance of rapture nor the voice of love.
Ye winds, whose havoc-spreading pinions ply
Their furious speed, and with dire yell invade
This nether world, whose wasteful tyranny

Pale Dryads mourn in many a ruin'd shade; Wake not my love:-Let not your thundering cry With dread alarm the haunt of peace infest; Here breathe in soft Æolian melody

Each cadence sweet that charms the soul to rest. Ye spectres (whom belated pilgrims fear,

Issuing in throngs from charnel, vault, or tomb, What time deep shadowing clouds thy radiant sphere,

Cynthia, involve in night's meridian gloom), Hence to deserted fane or mouldering hall, Or the gaunt felon's ruthless course control; With monitory shriek the wretch appal,

And to compunction wake his torpid soul. But walk not near the couch were Lesbia lies Like some rich pearl in its enamel'd shell, Or sainted relic, from profaner eyes

Secluded in the dim shrine's silver cell.