To twine a fragrant chaplet round thy His manhood blossomed ; till the faith Poor faded flow'ret! on his careless way; For there does Edmund rest, the learned Inhal'd awhile thy odours on his walk, swain ! And there his spirit most delights to rove : Young Edmund! famed for each har monious strain, And the sore wounds of ill-requited love. Like some tall tree that spreads its branches wide, And loads the west-wind with its soft perfume, Then onward pass'd and left thee to AN UNFORTUNATE 1794. PALE Roamer through the night! thou poor Forlorn! Remorse that man on his death-bed possess, Who in the credulous hour of tenderness Betrayed, then cast thee forth to want and scorn! Soft the glances of the youth, Loathing thy polluted lot, Hie thee, Maiden, hie thee hence! Thou hast known deceit and folly, Inly armed, go, Maiden! go. Mother sage of Self-dominion, Firm thy steps, O Melancholy! The world is pitiless: the chaste one's Mute the sky-lark and forlorn, pride Mimic of Virtue scowls on thy distress: deride : While she moults the firstling plumes, And Vice alone will shelter wretched- Soon with renovated wing Here dwelt the MAN OF ROSS! 0 Traveller, hear! Departed Merit claims a reverent tear. Friend to the friendless, to the sick man health, With generous joy he viewed his modest wealth; He hears the widow's heaven - breathed prayer of praise, He mark'd the sheltered orphan's tearful gaze, Or where the sorrow-shrivelled captive lay, Pours the bright blaze of Freedom's noon-tide ray. Beneath this roof if thy cheered moments pass, Fill to the good man's name one grateful glass: To higher zest shall Memory wake thy soul, And Virtue mingle in the ennobled bowl. But if, like me, through life's distressful DOMESTIC PEACE [FROM THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE, ACT 1.] D Faint was that Hope, and rayless! Her folded arms wrapping her tattered That wan and sickly droops upon her The long lank leaf bowed fluttering o'er LINES ON A FRIEND WHO DIED OF A FRENZY FEVER INDUCED BY CALUMNIOUS REPORTS EDMUND! thy grave with aching eye I scan, And inly groan for Heaven's poor outcast-Man! 'Tis tempest all or gloom: in early youth Some pigmy Folly in a careless hour, 10 The faithless guest shall stamp the enchanted ground, And mingled forms of Misery rise around : Heart-fretting Fear, with pallid look aghast, That courts the future woe to hide the |