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LOVE ELEGIES.

BY JAMES HAMMOND, ESQ. *

HE UPBRAIDS AND THREATENS THE AVA

RICE OF NE ÆRA, AND RESOLVES TO
QUIT HER.

SHOUL

ULD Jove descend in foods of liquid ore, And golden torrents stream from every part, That craving bosom still wou'd heave for more, Not all the gods cou'd satisfy thy heart :

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But may thy folly, which can thus disdain
My honest love, the mighty wrong repay,
May midnight fire involve thy sordid gain,
And on the shining heaps of rapine prey:

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May all the youths, like me, by love deceived,
Not quench the ruin, but applaud the doom ;
And, when thou dy'st, may not one heart be grieved,
May not one tear bedew the lonely tomb.

But the deserving, tender, generous maid,
Whose only care is her poor

lover's mind, Tho' ruthless age may bid her beauty fade, In every friend to love, a friend shall find :

* Born 1710; dyed 1742.

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And, when the lamp of life will burn no more,
When dead she seems as in a gentle sleep,
The pitying neighbour shall her loss deplore,
And round the bier assembled lovers

weep :

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With flow'ry garlands, each revolving year,
Shall strow the grave where truth and softness rest,
Then, home returning, drop the pious tear,
And bid the turf lie easy on her breast.

то HIS FRIEND, WRITTEN UNDER THE

CONFINEMENT OF A LONG INDISPOSITION.

W

ĦILE calm you fit beneath your secret shade, And lose in pleasing thought the summer-day, Or tempt the wish of some unpractised maid, Whose heart at once inclines and fears to stray :

The sprightly vigour of my youth is Aed, 5
Lonely and fick on death is all my thought,
Oh, spare, Persephone *, this guiltless head,
Love, too much love, is all thy suppliant's fault.

No virgin's easy faith I e'er betray'd,
My tongue ne'er boasted of a feign'd embrace ; 10
No poisons in the cup have I convey'd,
Nor veil'd destruction with a friendly face :

• The goddess of death.

No secret horrors gnaw this quiet breaft,
This pious hand ne'er robb’d the sacred fane;
I ne'er disturb’d the gods' eternal reit 15.
With curses loud, -but oft have pray'd in vain.

No stealth of time has thinn'd my flowing hair,
Nor age yet bent me with his iron hand;
Ah, why so soon the tender blossom tear?
Ere Autumn yet the ripen’d fruit demand. 20

Ye gods, whoe'er in gloomy shades below
Now Nowly tread your melancholy round;
Now wand'ring view the baleful rivers flow,
And musing hearken to their solemn found :

Oh, let me still enjoy the cheerful day ;
Till, many years unheeded o'er me rollid,
Pleas'd in my age, I trifle life away,
And teil how much we loved, ere I grew

old.

But you, who now, with festive garlands crown’d, In chase of pleasure the gay moments spend, 30 By quick enjoyment heal love's pleasing wound, And grieve for nothing but your absent friend,

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While Arbens glory'd in her free-born race,
And Science flourish'd round her fav’rite place,
The Muse unfetter'd trod the Grecian stage ;
Free were her pinions, unrestrain'd her rage :
Bold and secure the aim'd the pointed dart, 5
And pour’d the precept poignant to the heart,
Till dire Dominion stretch'd her lawless sway,
And Athens' fons were destin'd to obey :
Then firit the Stage a Licens'd Bondage knew,
And Tyrants qualh'd the scene they fear'd to view: 10
Fair Freedom's voice no more was heard to charm,
Or Liberty the Attic audience warm.

Then fled the Muse, indignant, from the shore, Nor deign’d to dwell where Freedom was no more : Vain then, alas! The fought Britannia's isle, 15 Charm'd with her voice, and cheer'd us with her If Gallic laws her gen'rous fight restrain, [smile. And bind her captive with th' ignoble chain ;

* Born 1710; dyod 1774.

Bold and unlicensd, in Eliza's days,
Free flow'd her numbers, flourish'd fair her bays; 20
O'er Britain's Stage majestic, unconfin’d,
She tun'd her Patriot lessons to mankind;
For mighty Heroes ransack'd ev'ry age,
Then beam'd them glorious in her SHAKE-

SPEARE's page.
SHAKESPEARE's no more!-loft was the Poet's
name,

25 Till Thou, my friend, my genius, sprung to Fame; Lur'd by his laurel's never-fading bloom, You boldly snatch'd the trophy from his tomb, Taught the declining Muse again to foar, And to Britannia gave one Poet more.

Pleas'd, in thy lays we see GUSTAVUS live; But, O GUSTAVUS ! if thou can'ft, forgive. Britons, more savage than the tyrant Dane, Beneath whose yoke you drew the galling chain, Degen’rate Britons, by thy worth dismay'd, 35 Prophane thy glories, and proscribe thy shade.

30.

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