Bepearling ev'ry lawn,;
Wild warbling wood-notes float around,
While echo doubles ev'ry sound,

To hail the gladfome dawn.

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Now Celia with thy Cloe rise,
Ye fair unlock those radiant eyes,

Nor more the pillow press ;
Now rise and taste of vernal bliss,
Romantic dreams and Neep dismiss,

New joys your sense shall bless.

V. Whether along the velvet green, Adorning all the sylvan scene,

The fair incline to stray ; Where lofty trees o’erfhade the wave, And Zephyrs leave their secret cave,

Along the streams to play.


There lovely views the * river crown,
Woods, meadows, ships, yon + spiry town,

Where wit and beauty reign;
Where Cloe and fair Celia's charms,
Fill many a youth with love's alarms,

Sweet pleasure, mix'd with pain.

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At yon

Or whether o'er the fields ye trip,

salubrious I fount to sip,

Immur'd in darksome shade ;
Around whose sides || magnolias' bloom,
Whose filver blossoms deck the gloom,

And scent the spicy glade.

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These are Aurora's rural sweets
Fresh dew-drops, flowers and green retreats,

Perfume the balmy air ;
Rise then and greet the new-born day,
Rise, fair ones, join the linnet's lay,

And Nature's pleasures share.


So shall

gay health your cheeks adorn,
With blushes sweeter than the inorn,

And fresh as early day ;
And then, that Glo'ster is the place,
To add to beauty's brightest grace,

The world around shall say.

# The chalybeate spring near Gloucester.

| The laurel-leaved tulip tree. This beautiful tree is one of the greatest ornaments of the American woods, of which it is a native.

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TIME! ftill urging to eternity,

In thy deep womb the world's vast actions

Thy hours ftill whirl us on in full career,
Day following day, and year succeeding year ;
Old moments ending as the new ones rise-
For thy first child, Succesión, never dies ;
But all things human own thy sov'reign pow'r;
Just live and die- a thousand in an hour.

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Kings, empires, thrones and nations fade away,
And others still succeed as they decay ;



and horrid war still rule by turns,
With love and rage the world, alternate, burns ;
And thus the same rotation shall be seen,
Till consummation shuts this earthly scene !

What then avails t'invoke the sacred Nine,
Or humbly bend us at the Muse's shrine,
When we, together with our loftiest rhime,
Shrink to oblivion, at one blast of Time ?

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USH'D was the air, the howling winds

were still,
And icy fetters bound each silver rill;
Old Night her raven mantle cast around,
And Spectres rose from consecrated ground;


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The full orb'd moon a pallid lustre shed,
And o'er each scene a livelier horror spread.

'Twas then aside the frozen Delaware,
(To the bleak north, her bosom, heaving, bare)
Revolving various troubles in her mind,
Fair Pennsylvania's genius sad reclin'd,
Her olive crown, scarce cleans'd from reeking gore,
She dash'd, indignant, on the flinty shore ;
Then, forrowful, she turn'd her briny eyes
To where her Capital's proud turrets rise.

Thus, as she rested on a bank of snow, Breathing deep sighs, and loft in speechless woe ; Sudden, a solemn murmur fill'd the air, And rous'd the Goddess from her trance of care.

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