Once more from cities proud,

Tired of their moiling crowd,

Soon shall I come my former paths to tread;
But not, as erst, shall I

Amid your beauties sigh,

To all but pain and hopeless sorrow dead.

Fair to my gladden'd eyes

Will every object rise,

As through your well known haunts I rove along;
For I shall not deplore,

Nor teach your echoes more
Of fruitless love the melancholy song.

Sad were indeed those days

When, flying man's rude gaze,

A host of woes my sicken'd soul alarm'd;
Then nor the woodland strains

Nor verdure-vested plains

Nor gales odorous nor bright landscapes charm'd.

Then, misery's chosen child,

I sought your loneliest wild,

Where stole the brook, scarce heard its murmurs And, stretch'd on dewy earth,

I cursed my hour of birth,

And pour'd to winds my unavailing plaint.

Sad were those days indeed!

But soon my pastoral reed,

[faint;

To songs of joy awaked, ye glad shall hear :
For now the clouds are pass'd

That long my life o'ercast;

The forms are fled of anguish and of fear.

Yes, here your gloomy reign

Ends, O long-cherish'd train

Of moody thoughts and soul-depressing cares; For me Ianthe wreaths

A myrtle crown, and breathes

[prayers.

Soft rapturous sighs, fond vows, and tenderest

She, she, divinest maid,

Blooms, in such charms array'd

As opening roses on their sunny beds!
Her accents might beguile
Despair; her look, her smile

On all around delicious influence sheds..

But not her smiles alone,

Her voice of melting tone,

Nor bloom, nor grace my willing heart control; For in her form enshrined

Resides the radiant mind

That crowns, illumes, and animates the whole.

By her beloved, new born
Am I to bliss; the morn

More sweet appears, more blue the' expanse above;
More mild the passing gale,

More verdant seems the vale,
And all is gladness, harmony, and love.

Now, to my unfilm'd sight,
O sun! thy golden light,

From which I wont disgusted to retire,

Once more I feel is dear,

Once more my breast can cheer,

And ardent hopes and thoughts sublime inspire.

Dian, more fair meseems

Thou art than when thy beams Saw me retreat in solitude to pine; And ye, aye burning stars,

That guide your emerald cars

Mid boundless space, with nobler lustre shine,

Now, joyous as I rove,

Each cool and whispering grove,

Not less to bliss than to 'pale passion' dear, Shall bid its feather'd throng

Awake a sprightlier song,

And pour delight upon my tranced ear.

Nor thou, my lyre, that oft,

In numbers sweetly soft,

Hast plain'd the story of thy master's woes, Now, while his heart beats high

With ecstasy, shalt lie

Unstrung, and sunk in indolent repose.

Now, from thy vocal wires,
While love, while beauty fires,
And rosy-pinion'd pleasure hovers round,
No strains of mournful fall

My rapid hand shall call,

But bid thy boldest harmonies resound.

Yes, glowing be the song!

Such raptures well belong

To him who sings the bless'd Ianthe's praise : And lo! more mildly bright

Than Hesper's beamy light

She comes, the queen, the glory of my lays.

She comes! ye zephyrs bland,

Your purple plumes expand;

Ye blooming flowers, your balmy breath diffuse;

Ye birds, with warbled air,

Salute the peerless fair,

Sacred to love, to beauty, and the muse.

R. A. DAVENPORT.

TO SLEEP.

THOUGH oft in hours of grief and pain,
Thy gentle slumbers, strength-restoring,
Have I, alas! invoked in vain ;

Yet, once again thy aid imploring,
I pour to thee, O Sleep, the strain.

Think not I ask thee to befriend

Awhile this breast in anguish sighing:
To me no succour thou canst lend;

My woes, such feeble force defying,
A mightier power than thine must end.

But fly to Lesbia's couch, and there
Thy downy pinions lightly spreading,
Let no rude sound disturb the fair,
But, all thy balmy influence shedding,
Drive far away each anxious care.

And O thy visions, heavenly bright!
The soul from earthly thoughts relieving,
Around her spread, propitious sprite!
Sweetly her charmed sense deceiving,
Till rosy Morn command thy flight.

R. A. DAVENPORT.

ODE.

LET the sons of Lucre pine For glittering heaps of golden ore, To swell the' accumulated store, Contemn the terrors of the mine; Explore the caverns dark and drear, Mantled around with deadly dew; Where congregated vapours blue, Fired by the taper glimmering near, Bid dire explosion the deep realms invade, And earth-born lightnings gleam athwart the' infernal shade.

Pride, on thy vesture's purple fold,
Let the sky-tinctured sapphire blaze,
The emerald shed its milder rays,
And rubies blush in circling gold:
Low at thy nod let suppliants bow,
And crested chiefs precedence yield;
Thy hand the rod of empire wield,
And wreaths of triumph grace thy brow.
A nobler aim let my ambition own,
Be Love my empire, Lesbia's heart my throne!
Where into rage the wintry blast
Awakes old Ocean's slumbering wave,
Let Commerce urge her busy slave,
And elevate his trembling mast
Above the billowy precipice,

To meet the forked lightning's flash;
Then down the' adventurous vessel dash,
Foundering within the black abyss:

Or let his freight secure the surges sweep, And of their prey defraud the monsters of the deep:

VOL. III.

X