Direct me virtue's happy course to run,
And let me, as instructed by Thy Son,
In ev'ry station say-" Thy will be done.”
CAN it be Fancy all?—ah, no!
The beating heart, the cheeks' high glow, Declare, alas! too plain,
Throbs in my pulse, and from my breast Steals its content, its wonted rest.
Say, does imagination guide,
And over all my thoughts preside?
Does fancy prompt the sigh?
Does she instruct the eye—
Ardent to gaze when thou art near,—
Absent to drop the tender tear?
Though frequent borne upon her wing,
Of groves and sylvan shades I sing;
I own not now her sway;-
Alas! to Love a prey,
My soul acknowledges his chain,
Of real torments I complain.
She o'er my dreams indeed is queen,
And as she pleases paints the scene;
She not affects the heart-
She points no love-barb'd dart;
The morning drives her from her throne,
And reason must her spells disown.
Yet let me not disclaim her power,
Her potent smile may soothe the hour,
When far from you and love,
In other climes I rove,
Her airy wand may ease impart,
And soothe my agonizing heart.
WE'RE taught by Young, or our immortal Pope,
That our chief happiness consists in Hope,-
“Man never is—but always to be, blest:”
Come, then, fair Hope, and cheat my soul to rest.
Fortune, suspended, bids me free to use
Thy genial influence to 'wake the muse.
Indulge me, then, with thy inspiring lay.
To soothe the present, in the future day.
Since we, thus distant from our friends and home,
Have sought the plains of Hindostan to roam;
Where Britain's standard has been long erect,
Her legal rights of commerce to protect;
Let me the path of glory still pursue,
Our country's claim must still be honour's due;
And when bright Fame the patriot bosom warms,
The noblest science is the law of arms.
But if Ambition drives th' impetuous war,
'Tis then a rage the good and wise abhor.
May conquest crown us then, as we display
Our scorn of tyranny, the base betray.
Yet, as hostilities will sometimes cease,
And seasons claim a temporary peace,
In these cessations would I ask of heaven,
What would compensate the volition given?
When war relaxes, or subsides, O Jove!
Give me to taste the softer sweets of love,
The bliss supreme of purest love to share,
With genuine friendship to divide my care.
And if a sacrifice of all that's dear,
Be no mean title to th' imperial ear,
From England be the mistress of my heart,
Her charms will thence more solid joys impart;
Kind, meek, and gentle,—and, if passing fair,
I ask not beauty exquisitely rare.
Care-soothing sweetness, with an ample mind,
Ever to please, and to be pleased inclined:
With cheerful ease and elegance, I'd seek,
The smiles still playing on her lovely cheek;
Wit, sense, and song, harmoniously should move,
In sweet succession to the tune of love.
Ye powers divine! ye virtues which controul
And move the softer passions of the soul!
Had I the confidence of such a maid,
With all these captivating charms array'd,
Such glowing extacies would then inspire
My grateful heart, that not a new desire
Should find admission to my anxious breast,
Yet anxious still-for nothing could divest
My eager soul of the unceasing care,
How best, how surest, to delight my fair.
But, Love, thy rights, thus claiming highest praise,
Must now secede for Friendship's humbler lays;
For thy soft transports, exquisite, require
Some intervals, to renovate their fire;
The calmer sentiments of Friendship then
Haply recruits the generous flame again.
Zeal, thus receding, serves but to increase
And harmonize the higher joys to peace.
Give me a friend, in whose good-will and sense,
I may repose unbounded confidence,
One, who'll be free to give advice, but who
Will let that counsel be rejected too—
When on deliberation we incline,
Still to prefer what we ourselves opine:
For ever generous, enlarged and free,
Let him have latitude, and give it me.
Good-nature, candour, must inspire the youth,
But, above all, the beauteous goddess, Truth.
Hail, sacred deity! whose province lies,
To root out error in whate'er disguise.
Thy essence 'tis, philosophers explore,
And which, unfound, enthusiasts adore.
Oh, be thy laws as sacred with my friend,
As if their breach did his existence end:
That, led by Thee, his ev'ry act and word
Should fail in no one instance to accord;
Thus, honour, mistress of his steady mind,
More firm than oaths, would all his compacts bind.
With friends like these, of either sex, to share
My joys, my hopes, my interests, my care;
To gain a competence in this sojourn
Then, but remains ;-that so we might return
To our dear friends at home, while yet our powers
Were equal to enjoy the gliding hours:—
Thus, greatly happy, at some rural seat,
In blest society our friends we'd meet,—
And there delight them, by recounting times,
Past unregretted in these adverse climes.
Transporting thought! O, what a close were this,
How far transcending ev'ry other bliss!
Enjoy then, Fancy, thy unbounded scope,
And still sustain us with inspiring Hope!
[OCCASIONED BY A SIGHT OF THE MILITARY HOSPITAL.]
Lo! where pale sickness rears her mournful dome, The sad receptacle of human pain;
Where the poor soldier, distant far from home, Writhes his rack'd limbs on mis'ry's couch in vain.
No more to him shall Hope's gay visions rise,
Nor Fancy waft him to his native soil;
Unknown, unnoticed, here he lingers-dies;
Nor feels the blessing of one cheering smile!
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