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Three tedious moons, with cheerless ray,

Had vainly gilt the face of night ; Nor yet the hero took his way,

To bless his drooping fight !

At length thro' Rena's fav’rite grove,

When now the fourth her radiance shed; He came-and vi&t'ry's wreath was wovem

But, ah !--around a lifeless head !

Distracted at the blasting sight,

To yonder tall cliffs bending brow, With beating breasts, she urg'd her Alight,

And would have fought the waves below!

But while, with steady gaze, she view'd

The foaming billows, void of fear, Religion at her right hand stood,

And whisper'd to her soul “ forbear !"

And now the storm of grief was o'er ;

Yet melancholy's weeping eye Distillid the flow and filent show'r, Nor ceas'd—till life's own springs were dry !

For For this, around

yon
hallow'd

grave The myrtle and the laurel bloom ; There Neep the lovely, and the brave ;

Oh! Thed a tear upon their tomb.

B.

The Conviet's Petition.

AT

T length emerg'd from yon opprobria

ous cell, This shameful front hath met the public

eye At length ye fleeting scenes of life farewell !

And close on-a wretch prepar'd to die.

What tho' the tide of complicated woe,
Hath since the barriers firm of vice o'er

born ;
What though pent up from all that's dear

below, My grief-rent heart hath never ceas'd to

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mourn.

What

What though reflection hath a gloom o'er

spread, Oft as it trac'd unnumber'd follies past, What though my bonds have to repentance

led,

And arm’d myielf resignant soul at last.

Compunction for a wife, the friend of truth, Whose steady heart from virtue never

fwery'd And sad remorse for my poor childrens

youth, My firmness have disarm’d, my soul un

nerv'd.

Oh ye

that throng and press to see my fall, My latest pangs and penitence to scan, O Night not now misfortunes latest call,

Nor shut your eyes against a dying man.

Though terror armed justice lifts on high

Her angry rod, and executive sword ; Tho' thoughts of death have rais'd a fre

quent figh, And oft in silence I've my fate deplor'd.

Oh

H 3

Oh spare my orphan babes and guiltless wife, Suppress the tale of. calumny and shame

; And let the day that robs their fire of life,

From mem’ry's tablet wipe my guilty

name.

To fcreen from famine's too oppressive pow'r, The infant cluster that exclaim'd for

bread; I wrought a deed, O most disastrous hour,

When at affections' summons virtue fled !

With-hold not then compassion's cheering

store, I ask not for myself the precious boon, For those, alas ! I plead who need it more, For death shall close on me and misery

foon.

Yet, yct, ye messengers of death forbear, One sentence more my justice would un

fold; A truth which well impatient youth might

hear, Nor less a lesson to the grave and old.

Drop

Drop not the reins of caution from your grasp,

But early queil each bold advance to vice, Left your imprudence like the 'venom’d asp,

Into the fatal snare your steps entice.

Heaven grant my words, the clouds of giult

difpel, My fate instruct mankind this rock to fly, And now, ye feeting scenes of life, fare

well! Come, close upon a wretch prepard to die.

C. A.

The

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