The weak, desponding, soul to cheer, These blessings, heav'n-descended maid, THE REPLY COURTEOUS, ADDRESSED TO A LADY, WHO JOCULARLY OFFERED HER SERVICE AS PHYSICIAN TO THE AUTHOR, DURING A SLIGHT INDISPOSITION. For your friendly proposal, Lucinda, receive Soon the trifling disorder whose influence I prove Some slight sanative med'cine I trust will remove; But were you my Physician, such exquisite grace, Such loveliness beams in your person and face; With so bright an assemblage of virtues combin’d— So attractive your converse, well-cultur'd your mind, That if rightly your power and my weakness I read, A disease more unyielding would quickly succeed. On my face, from whence sickness the rose has effac'd, As your looks, in research of its symptoms, were plac'd, To my slow wasting fever, your soul-searching eye Would a copious accession of fuel supply; And recall'd by each glance, o'er my cheeks once again With the rose would the lily alternately reign! Your soft touch to my pulse quicker motion impart, And with strange palpitations disorder my heart : While my breathing laborious, and sighs half sup prest, The emotions too plainly disclose in my breast: Since a soul like Lucinda's no bliss can receive LINES, WRITTEN ON A VISIT TO THE SEA AT HORNSEA, AFTER A CONSIDERABLE ABSENCE. YE mould'ring cliffs, along whose utmost verge, Mocking restraint, in waves successive play'd. I come to contemplate your scenes once more! But ah! how chang'd!-The place where erst I've stood, List'ning, half breathless, Ocean's sullen roar, Now lies ingulph'd amidst the circling flood! And many a plant endu'd with sovereign pow'r, That o'er your borders shed a verdant grace, And many a wild but richly tinctur'd flow'r That flourish'd there, I vainly strive to trace ! Reflection solemn !-Here my wounded mind Wrought into tempest, as the raging main Saps the foundation of these cliffs sublime, So fall those pleasures which to life pertain, Before the billows of devouring Time! Yon rocky point alone unmov'd remains, And all the fury of the tempest braves! Thrice happy he who thus his hope and care Hath on the "Rock of Ages" firmly cast; Though Time this earth may from its basis tear, Yet his dependence shall for ever last! THE THORN WITHOUT THE ROSE! "No more my bosom's peace to wound, "The oft-told tale relate, "Of troubles you, my friend, have found Thus Jack to Tom, his comrade dear, From Hecate scarce in form remov'd, My friendly monitor, I must "(Nor let it raise your pride) "Confess your observation just;" Thus quickly Tom replied; "But think how hard his fate must be, "How piteous sure his woes, "Who's destin❜d to possess, like me, "The Thorn without the Rose !" |