Works

What asks the POET, when he pours
His first libation in the Delphic Bowers?
Duteous before the altar standing,
With lively hope his soul expanding,
O! what demands he, when the crimson wine...

Boy, not in these Autumnal bowers
Shalt thou the Persian Vest dispose,
Of artful fold, and rich brocade;
Nor tie in gaudy knots the sprays and flowers.
Ah! search not where the latest rose...

Now had you drank cold Tanais' wave,
Whose streams the drear vale slowly lave,
A barbarous Scythian's Bride,
Yet, Lyce, might you grieve to hear
Your Lover braves the winds severe,...

My Phidyle, retir'd in shady wild,
If thou thy virgin hands shalt suppliant raise,
If primal fruits are on thy altars pil'd,
And incense pure thy duteous care conveys,...

From these wild heights, where oft the mists descend
In rains, that shroud the sun, and chill the gale,
Each transient, gleaming interval we hail,
And rove the naked vallies, and extend...

And now the youthful, gay, capricious Spring,
Piercing her showery clouds with crystal light,
And with their hues reflected streaking bright
Her radiant bow, bids all her Warblers sing;...

Hope comes to Youth, gliding thro' azure skies
With amaranth crown: - her full robe, snowy white,
Floats on the gale, and our exulting sight
Marks it afar. - From waning Life she flies,...

FROM A PROSE TRANSLATION IN SIR WILLIAM JONES' ESSAY ON THE POETRY OF THE EASTERN NATIONS.


Guard thou, my Son, the Helpless and the Poor,
Nor in the chains of thine own indolence...

What bashful wildness in those crystal eyes,
Fair Zillia! - Ah! more dear to LOVE the gaze
That dwells upon its object, than the rays
Of that vague glance, quick, as in summer skies...

Disciple of the bright Aonian Maid
In thy life's blossom, a resistless spell
Amid the wild wood, and irriguous dell,
O'er thymy hill, and thro' illumin'd glade,
Led thee, for her thy votive wreaths to braid,...

Time, and thy charms, thou fanciest will redeem
Yon aweless Libertine from rooted vice.
Misleading thought! has he not paid the price,
His taste for virtue? - Ah, the sensual stream...

Yes, thou shalt smile again! - Time always heals
In youth, the wounds of Sorrow. - O! survey
Yon now subsided Deep, thro' Night a prey
To warring Winds, and to their furious peals...

FROM THE ITALIAN OF FILACAJA.


Here, from laborious Art, proud TOWNS, ye rose!
Here, in an instant, sunk! - nor ought remains
Of all ye were! - on the wide, lonely plains...

My Angel Sister, tho' thy lovely form
Perish'd in Youth's gay morning, yet is mine
This precious Ringlet! - still the soft hairs shine,
Still glow the nut-brown tints, all bright and warm...

The three following Sonnets are written in the character of Werter; the sentiments and images chiefly, but not intirely taken from one of his letters.

Up this bleak Hill, in wintry Night's dread hour,...

Round Cleon's brow the Delphic laurels twine,
And lo! the laurel decks Amanda's breast!
Charm'd shall he mark its glossy branches shine
On that contrasting snow; shall see express'd...

In this chill morning of a wintry Spring
I look into the gloom'd and rainy vale;
The sullen clouds, the stormy winds assail,
Lour on the fields, and with impetuous wing...

Ah, thankless! canst thou envy him who gains
The Stoic's cold and indurate repose?
Thou! with thy lively sense of bliss and woes! -
From a false balance of life's joys and pains...

Thou silent Door of our eternal sleep,
Sickness, and pain, debility, and woes,
All the dire train of ills Existence knows,
Thou shuttest out FOR EVER! - Why then weep...

Since dark December shrouds the transient day,
And stormy Winds are howling in their ire,
Why com'st not THOU, who always can'st inspire
The soul of cheerfulness, and best array...