LOVE. AWAKE, my harp, some joyful measure! Awake, my harp, some joyful measure ! "Twas Love that taught thy strings to move; And Love now fills my soul with pleasure ;Then hymn the charms of Love! O Love! some call thy musings folly, Some call thee cruel, base, and blind; But thou, methinks, art pure and holy, Exalted, raised,-refined. And some there are who can dissemble Yet, though thy charms were all illusion, Thou know'st, O Love! how I have blest thee, How oft in sorrow I've carest thee, O Love! some call thy musings folly; Some call thee cruel, base, and blind; But thou, methinks, art pure and holy, Exalted, raised, refined! Poetical Register. N. S. S. L. THE BEECH TREE'S PETITION. BY THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ. O LEAVE this barren spot to me! Yet leave this barren spot to me: Thrice twenty summers have I seen The sky grow bright, the forest green; And many a wintry wind have stood In bloomless, fruitless solitude, Since childhood in my pleasant bower First spent its sweet and sportive hour, Since youthful lovers in my shade Their vows of truth and rapture made; And on my trunk's surviving frame, Carved many a long forgotten name. Oh! by the sighs of gentle sound, First breathed upon this sacred ground; By all that Love had whispered here, Or Beauty heard with ravished ear; As Love's own altar honour me, Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree! ELEGY. BY C. A. ELTON. A SHADOW on my spirit fell, When my hushed footstep from thee passed; And sad to me thy mild farewell, To me, who feared it was thy last; And when I saw thee next, a veil Was drawn upon thy features pale. They strewed thee in thy narrow bed Back to thy valued rural hours; The God, whose presence met thee there, Whose life had been a hymn of praise: I lay thee where the loved are laid : TIME. WHILE others grace thy natal day For smiling beauty best can prove I will not boast how oft and bright Thy hand my rosy crown bestowed- Thou canst not reach so rich a prize Midst sands that sparkle in my glass The rest may glitter, break, and pass, Pride may the modest pearl disdain, They mock my power, yet I alone Receive my gift!-of nature's wealth Thy mind has ample store; Of Pleasure, Honour, Hope, and Health, I cannot give thee more. The gem which none of these can buy I give what Fortune cannot lend— SONG, BY HENRY NEELE, ESQ. For thee, love, for thee love, I'll brave fate's sternest storm; Nor hear, amidst the tempest, aught For thee, love, for thee, love, For pleasure's smiles are vanity, For thee, love, for thee, love, And aid thy steps the journey through, And even then round her I love, My shade shall hovering be, And warble notes from heaven above To thee, love, only thee. New European Magazine. |