Το

a FRIEND,

IN ANSWER TO

A MELANCHOLY LETTER.

Away, those cloudy looks, that lab'ring sigh, The peevish offspring of a sickly hour!

Nor meanly thus complain of Fortune's power, When the blind Gamester throws a luckless die.

Yon setting Sun flashes a mournful gleam

Behind those broken clouds, his stormy train : To-morrow shall the many-color'd main

In brightness roll beneath his orient beam!

Wild, as th' autumnal gust, the hand of TIME
Flies o'er his mystic lyre! in shadowy dance
Th' alternate groupes of Joy and Grief advance
Responsive to his varying strains sublime!

Bears on its wing each hour a load of Fate.
The Swain, who, lull'd by Seine's mild murmurs, led
His weary oxen to their nightly shed,

To-day may rule a tempest-troubled State.

Nor shall not Fortune with a vengeful smile
Survey the sanguinary Despot's might,

And haply hurl the Pageant from his height
Unwept to wander in some savage isle.

There shiv'ring sad beneath the tempest's frown Round his tir'd limbs to wrap the purple vest; And mix'd with nails and beads, an equal jest! Barter for food, the jewels of his crown.

COMPOSED at CLEVEDON,

SOMERSETSHIRE.

My pensive SARA! thy soft cheek reclin'd

Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is

To sit beside our cot, our cot o'er grown

With white-flower'd Jasmin, and the broad leav'd Myrtle,

And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light, Slow-sad'ning round, and mark the star of eve

Shine opposite! How exquisite the scents

Snatch'd from yon bean-field! and the world so hush'd! Hark! the still murmur of the distant sea

Tells us of Silence! And th' Eolian Lute

How by the desultory breeze caress'd,

Like some coy Maid half-yielding to her Lover,
It pours such sweet upbraidings, as must needs
Tempt to repeat the wrong! And now its strings
Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes
Over delicious surges sink and rise,

Such a soft floating witchery of sound
Methinks, it should have been impossible
Not to love all things in a World like this,
Where e'en the Breezes of the simple Air
Possess the power and Spirit of Melody!
And thus, my Love! as on the midway slope
Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon,
Whilst thro' my half-clos'd eyelids I behold

The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main,

And tranquil muse upon tranquillity;

Full many a thought uncall'd and undetain'd,

And many idle flitting phantasies,