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And mark how tombs of trophy'd kings
Time into dark oblivion flings.

Oh! happy Solitude! in thee,
At length, my greatest good I see;
Nor would I leave thy homely cell,

For domes where scepter'd monarchs dwell;
Thou spotless pleasures canst supply,
With thee I'll live, with thee I'll die.

THE CAVE.

British Chronicle.

THE wind is up, the field is bare;

Some hermit lead me to his cell
Where Contemplation, lovely fair,
With bless'd Content delights to dwell.

Behold it opens to my sight,

Dark in the rock, beside the flood; Dry fern around obstructs the light; The winds above it move the wood.

Reflected in the lake I see

The downward mountains and the skies,

The flying bird, the waving tree,

The goats that on the hills arise.

The

grey cloak'd herd drives on the cow; The slow-pac'd fowler walks the heath; A freckled pointer scours the brow; A musing shepherd stands beneath.

High o'er the ruin of an oak

The woodman lifts his axe on high,
The hills re-echo to the stroke:
I see, I see the shivers fly.

Some rural maid with apron full,
Brings fuel to the homely flame;
I see the smoking columņs roll,
And through the chinky hut, the beam.

Beside a stone o'ergrown with moss,
Two well-met hunters talk at ease;
Their panting dogs beside repose ;.
A bleeding deer is stretch'd by these.

A lake at distance spreads to sight,
Skirted with shady forests round;
In midst an island's rocky height
Sustains a ruin, ivy crown'd.

One tree bends o'er the naked walls,
Two tow'ring eagles hover nigh,
At intervals a fragment falls,

As blows the blast along the sky.

Two sturdy hinds the pinnace guide
With lab'ring oars along the flood;
An angler bending o'er the tide,

Holds from the boat th' insidious wood.

Beside the flood, beneath the rocks,
On grassy bank two lovers lean,
Bend on each other's am'rous looks,
And seem to chat and smile between.

The wind is rustling in the oak;

They seem to hear the tread of feet; They start, they rise, look round the rock; Again they smile, again they meet.

But see! the grey mist from the lake
Ascends upon the shady hills;

Dark storms the murm'ring forests shake,
Rain beats-resound a hundred rills.

To Damon's homely hut I fly;

I see it smoking o'er the plain;

When storms are past-and fair the sky,

I'll often seek the Cave again.

Universal Magazine.

9

EPITAPH.

ESCAP'D the gloom of mortal life, a soul
Here leaves its mould'ring tenement of clay,
Safe where no cares their whelming billows roll,
No doubts bewilder, and no hopes betray.

Like thee, I once have stemm'd the sea of life; Like thee, have languish'd after empty joys; Like thee, have labour'd in the stormy strife; Ev'n griev'd for trifles, and amus'd with toys.

Yet, for a while, 'gainst passion's threatful blast Let steady reason urge the struggling oar; Shot through the dreary gloom, the morn at last Gives to thy longing eyes the blissful shore.

Forget my frailties, thou art also frail;

Forgive my lapses, for thyself may'st fall; Now read, unmov'd, my artless tender tale, I was a friend, O man, to thee, to all.

Universal Magazine.

THE POWER OF INNOCENCE.

WHEN first the nuptial state we prove,
We live the happy life of love;

But when familiar, charms no more
Inspire the bliss they gave before ;
Each less delighting, less is lov'd,
First this, then that, is disapprov'd;
Complaisance flies, neglect succeeds,
Neglect disdain and hatred breeds.
'Twas thus a pair, who long time prov'd
The joys to love, and be belov'd,
At length fell out for trifling things,
From trifles anger mostly springs,
The wish to please forsook each breast,
Love's throne by baseless rage possess'd;
Resolv'd to part, they meet no more:
Enough-the chariot's at the door.
The mansion was my lady's own;
Sir John resolv'd to live in town;
Writings were drawn, each cause agreed,
Both vow'd they'd ne'er recall the deed.
The chariot waits, why this delay?
The sequel shall the cause display.
One lovely girl the lady bore,

Dear pledge of joys she tastes no more;
The father's, mother's, darling she,
Now lisp'd and prattled on each knee.

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