And all its genuine stores display;
And East and West thy labours hail,
And oft thou call'st the lofty lay

From the sequester'd humble vale;
Young minstrels catch celestial fire
From thee, and Rapture crowns the lyre.

Like thee, O Jessy! * could I sing
Our Friend, now sailing on the main,
Could I pursue thy rapid wing,

Or emulate thy swelling strain,
I would not toil to paint, in vain,
His soul with varied stores replete,
But ah !-the Muse must now refrain
And rest awhile her feeble feet!
And on her lonely hill reclin'd
Survey the picture in her mind.

RATHFRYLAND.

* A young Lady of Edinburgh, whose Poems, yet unpublished, possess an uncommon degree of merit.

EPIGRAM,

ON A MARRIAGE.

THAT very day he chose to wed,
I wish'd the old curmudgeon dead;
It matters not, since now he'll lead
On earth the life to hell decreed!

P. L. C.

SONGS.

BY ANNA SEWARD.

1. *

"DAMON by all the Powers above Plighted to me eternal love; "And as a rose adorn'd my breast, "He on its leaf the vow imprest; "But, while the winds did round us play, "Vow, leaf, and promise blew away."

2.

For this, when Summer mornings glow,
O! shall I veil their beams in woe;
And 'mid the rosy hours of youth,
Weep and repine o'er vanish'd truth?
No! let me hail the shining day,
Blithe as the lark, that meets its ray.

3.

Beauty, and Health, have joys that prove Balm for the wounds of slighted Love;

*The first verse is from an old ballad.

III *.

Recitative.

My Stella sleeps, the sultry hour
Seals her sweet eye-lids in the bower!
And see! the snowy rose she wore
Has fall'n upon the verdant floor.

AIR.

1.

Ah, rose! thou hast fled from a throne
Where thy fairness, and scent are outdone,
And the beauties that rival thine own,
Thy envy has taught thee to shun.

2.

And O! since thy thorns might annoy
A breast all the Graces adorn,

To the mansion of love and of joy,
Pale rover, thou shalt not return!

This song, and the preceding one, are exquisitely set to music by Mr. Rauzzini.

O DE

TO A YOUNG LADY *.

WHY thus decline my troubled eyes,
If hither their mild lustre bending
Those azure orbs to meet me rise?
Why thus with thee conversing, dies
My voice, in broken murmurs ending?

Yet, dawning from my looks distrest,
Yet, wooing in the coy expression
Of faltering sounds, that half-supprest
In sighs ill stifled breathe the rest,

Read-ah too dear! the fond confession.

In vain! What these soft tumults show,
From thee, yet new to love, is hidden;
Untaught thy wishes yet to know,

If sighs ascend, if blushes glow,

What means the sigh, the blush unbidden.

*This Ode, and the Odes to the Zephyrs and to Fancy, have been printed in an elegant collection called the Metrical Miscellany, from very imperfect copies. They are now given in a corrected

state.

But hope not ever thus secure

To dart thy wildly-wandering glances:
What others now for thee endure,
Thou soon shalt feel in bloom mature;
On hasty wing thy youth advances.

O, skilled in every graceful art

That adds a polish'd charm to beauty; Be mine those pleasing cares to' impart, Which best refine the gentle heart,

Be mine to teach the tender duty!

tt.

O DE,

TO THE ZEPHYRS.

YE! before whose genial breath,
Hovering Death,

Girt with troops of wan diseases,
Quits the usurp'd domain of air;
Where, oh! where

Linger ye, propitious breezes ?

Hither, where my languid maid
Wooes your aid,

Come, with balmy spirit blowing;
Gentle harbingers of Spring,

Hither bring

Health in rosy beauty glowing,