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In yon empyreal realms her gentle soul

Dwells amidst myriads of cherubic choirs,
Where years of bliss for endless ages roll,

“ And hymning seraphs found their golden lyres.” Then bid those sorrows from thy breast depart,

They serve but to impair thy mortal
Serve but to break the most ingenuous heart,

That ever glow'd with love's pure vestal fame.
Lynn, May, 1799.



HEN friendship’s sacred fympathies inspire,

Who can refilt the muses kindling fire?
Friendship! thou deareft bleffing heav'n bestows,
Balm of all care and softner of our woes;
I at thy shrine my willing tribute pay,
And to thine honour consecrate my lay;
Thy form is lovely and thy fruit divine,
For love, and peace, and joy, and truth are thine;
And kindred souls, who feel this gen’rous flame,
Enjoy a fund of bliss that wants a name :
Ye Sons of wine! who o'er your cups pretend
Eternal service to your jovial friend,
When the warm fumes forsake your reeking brains,
Say, of your boasted friendship what remains ?
How oft, alas! what bitter hate succeeds,
What broken vows, and what atrocious deeds!
How oft in smoke your vain professions end,
And the smooth flatterer supplants the friend:
Ye sons of int'reft! whose benighted souls
Are cold and dark as winter at the poles;
Say, when your fav’rite point is once obtain'd,
Your purse replenish’d and your neighbour's drain’d;
When pinching poverty distracts the breast,
Will then your friendship firmly ítand the test?
Will friendlhip then the needful aid supply,
And wipe the bursting tear from forrow's eye?

Friendship's a pure, a heav'n-descended Aame,
Worthy the happy regions whence it came;
The sacred tie that virtuous spirits binds,
The golden chain that links inmortal minds !
Not the obsequious fop, whose words beguile,
Who lives or dics, as you or frown or (mile,
Can feel the joys true amity imparts
To gentle bofoms and to honest hearts;
To vice and shame, the charmer's all unknown,

He LIVES and REIGNS in virtuous hearts alone!


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ENEATH this rude unsculptur'd stone,

A hapless warbler rests his head ;
Reader, repress the Itruggling groan,

Nor sigh to leave him with the dead,
Born to enjoy as well as thee,

And guiltless as th' unspotted breast;
His days were peace and gaiety,

And ev'ry closing night was reft.
Perch'd on the dew-bespangled spray,

His varied note the woodland cheer'd;
From morn to eve his jocund lay

Around the peasant's cot was heard.
But ah! in vain he rais'd his song,

With callous heart and jaundic'd eye
A tyrant plann’d the mighty wrong,

And robb'd him of his liberty.
Snatch'd from that dear delightful state,

Where pleasure (mild the live-long day ;
Torn from his fond, his faithful mate,

And borne to unknown scenes away.

No tender partner shar'd his woes,

Nor cheer'd his bondage with a smilc;
Day after day successive rose,

But nought his anguish to beguile.
Within a gilded cage immurd,

The blaze of fplendour woo'd his fense ;
But his indignant mind abjur'd

The poor, the paltry recompense.
The sense of joy no more to know,

His much lov'd haunts no more to see :
His trembling twitter thrill’d with woe,

His outrag'd heart with agony.
Yet think not, whosoe'er thou art,

That pity beam'd on ne'er a breast;
One beauteous maid, with feeling heart,

His daily wants each day redress’d.
Oh! had the less, sweet trembler, fear'd

The fruit of bondage* to relieve,
Then had this dirge been yet unheard,

And the her loss had fail'd to grieve,
By danger rous'd, yet half afraid

Her softer lily hand to trust,
She sought another's bolder aid !

That aid'confign'd him to the dust.
With rude and inexperienc'd grasp,

The tuneful warbler as it press’d,
Instant a short and breathless grasp,

The agony of death confess’d.
Now soaring far away-the mind

No more its wonted anguish knows,
And here the duft to dust resign'd,

In flumbers fweet forgets its woes. * In the state of nature the talons of the feathered tribe are worn down by constantly treading upon the earth. The increased length which they acquire in the cage, and which it is frequently necessary to shorten, to prevent the bird's being hung up by the heels, is the effect of the unnatural state in whicis they are placed,

And can'ft thou, reader, then bewail

The broken bond, the captive free?
And can't thou cease the hour to hail,

Which gave him back his liberty?
And thou, sweet maid, whose rending sigh

The anguish of thy soul bespeaks;
Learn hence to wipe thy weeping eye,

And sooth thy bosom ere is breaks.

W. H.


CONOUR's fought by human kind,

And reigns triumphant in the mind;
But, ah! how many lose the prize
Because true honour they despise ;
They seek for honour, deep imbru'd
In widow's tears or human blood,
Forget that warlike honour must
“ Eat-in their bloody sword like ruft;"
Such honour ne'er shall gain applause
By God's divine and righteous laws;
Where VIRTUE, that celestial maid,
To honour lends her cheerful aid,
There BRIGHTEST honour may be gain'd,

And LASTING GLORY be obtain'd.

J. JEFFERY Suffex.



NHEEDED emblem of the mind!

When weeping twilight's shadows close,
I wander where thy mazes wind,

And watch thy current as it flows:
Now dimpling, silent, calm, and even;
Now brawling as in anger driven
Now ruffl’d, foaming, madly wild,
Like the vex'd sense of SORROW's hopeless child!

Beside thy surface now I fee,

Reflected in thy placid breast,
Flush'd summer's painted progeny-

In smiles and sweets redundant drest;
They flaunt their forms of varying dye,
To greet thee, as thou paffeít by
And bending fip thy ample wave,
And in its lucid lapse their bofoms lave,
While on thy tranquil breast appears

No freezing gale, no passing storm,
The sun-beam's vivid luftre cheers,

And seems thy silv'ry bed to warm:
The thronging birds, with am'rous play,
Sweep with their wings thy glite’ring way;
And o'er thy banks fond zephyr blows,
To dress with sweets the smallest flow'r that grow3.
But when destroying blasts arise,

And clouds o'ershade thy with’ring bounds,
When swift the eddying foliage flies,

And loud the ruthless torrent sounds ;-
Thy dimpling charms are seen no more,
Thy minstrel's caroll'd praise is o'er--
While not a flowret, sunny-drest,
Courts the chill'd current of thy alter'd breaft.
Such is the HUMAN MIND! serene

When FORTUNE's glowing hour appears !
And lovely, as thy margin green,

Are buds of HOPE_which FANCY rears:
Then ADULATION, like the flow'r,

Bends, as it greets us on our way;
But, in the dark and stormy hour, .

Leaves us, unmark'd, to trace our TROUBI.ED WAY! August 3d, 1799.


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