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With no beloved face at
bed-side, To fix the last glance of my closing eye, Methinks, such strains, breathed by my angel
guide, Would make me pass the cup of anguish by,
Mix with the blest, nor know that I had died !
A YOUNG MAN OF FORTUNE,
WHO ABANDONED HIMSELF TO AN INDOLENT AND
HENCE that fantastic wantonness of woe,
O Youth to partial Fortune vainly dear ! To plundered Want's half-sheltered hovel go,
Go, and some hunger- bitten infant hear
Moan haply in a dying mother's ear: Or when the cold and dismal fog-damps brood O’er the rank church-yard with sear elm-leaves
strewed, Pace round some widow's grave, whose dearer part
Was slaughtered, where o'er his uncoffined limbs The flocking flesh-birds screamed! Then, while thy
heart Groans, and thine eye a fiercer sorrow dims, Know (and the truth shall kindle thy young mind) What nature makes thee mourn, she bids thee heal!
O abject ! if, to sickly dreams resigned, All effortless thou leave life's common-weal
A prey to tyrants, murderers of mankind.
SONNET TO THE RIVER OTTER. DEAR native brook! wild streamlet of the West ! How many various-fated
I never shut amid the sunny ray,
Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows grey, And bedded sand that, veined with various dyes, Gleamed through thy bright transparence! On my
way Visions of childhood! oft have ye beguiled Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs :
Ah! could I be once more a careless child !
SONNET. COMPOSED ON A JOURNEY HOMEWARD; THE AUTHOR
HAVING RECEIVED INTELLIGENCE OF THE BIRTH OF A SON, SEPT. 20, 1796.
* "Ην που ημών ή ψύχη πρίν εν τώδε τώ ανθρωπίνω είδει γενέσθαι -Plat. in Phædon.
We lived, ere yet this robe of flesh we wore.
O my sweet baby! when I reach my door,
Thou wert a spirit, to this nether sphere Sentenced for some more venial crime to grieve; Did'st moan, then spring to meet Heaven's quick
CHARLES ! my slow heart was only sad, when
first I scanned that face of feeble infancy! For dimly on my thoughtful spirit burst
All I had been, and all my child might be! But when I saw it on its mother's arm,
And hanging at her bosom (she the while
Bent o'er its features with a tearful smile) Then I was thrilled and melted, and most warm Impressed a father's kiss : and all beguiled
Of dark remembrance and presageful fear,
I seemed to see an angel form appear'Twas even thine, beloved woman mild !
So for the mother's sake the child was dear, And dearer was the mother for the child.
THE VIRGIN'S CRADLE HYMN.
CATHOLIC VILLAGE IN GERMANY.
Quæ tam dulcem somnum videt,
Blande, veni, somnule.
SLEEP, sweet babe! my cares beguiling;
Mother sits beside thee smiling;
Come, soft slumber, balmily!
EPITAPH ON AN INFANT.
Relaxing from its mother's breast,
And such my infant's latest sigh!
TRETCHED on a mouldered Abbey's broadest
The fern was pressed beneath her hair,
The dark green adder's tongue was there; And still as past the flagging sea-gale weak, The long lank leaf bowed fluttering o'er her cheek.
That pallid cheek was flushed: her
look Beamed eloquent in slumber! Inly wrought,
Imperfect sounds her moving lips forsook,
IMITATED FROM STOLBERG.
ARK this holy chapel well!
The birth-place, this, of William Tell.
Here, first, an infant to her breast,