Add feathers, furs, rich satins, ari ducapes,
And head-dresses in pyramidal shapes;
Sideboards of plate, and porcelain profuse,
With fifty dittoes that the ladies use;
If my poor, treach'rous memory has missed,
Ingenious T-1 shall complete the list.
So weak Lamira, and her wants so few,
Who can refuse?—they're but the sex's due.
Yet Clars quits the more dressed negligee
And substitutes the careless Polanee,
Until some fair one from Britannia's court
Some jaunty dress or newer taste import;
This sweet temptation could not be withstood,
Though for the purchase's paid her father's blood;
Though earthquakes rattle, or volcanoes roar,
Indulge this trifle, and she asks no more:
Can the stern patriot Clara's suit deny?
'Tis Beauty asks, and Reason must comply.
ON THE DEATH OF HER CHILD AT THE RETREAT
WAS it for this, with thee, a pleasing load,
I sadly wandered through the hostile wood
When I thought Fortune's spite could do no more,
To see thee perish on a foreign shore?
my loved babe! my treasures left behind Ne'er sunk a cloud of grief upon my mind;
Rich in my children, on my arms I bore
My living treasures from the scalper's power;
When I sat down to rest, beneath some shade,
On the soft grass how innocent she played,
While her sweet sister from the fragrant wild
Collects the flowers to please my precious child,
Unconscious of her danger, laughing roves,
Nor dreads the painted savage in the groves!
Soon as the spires of Albany appeared,
With fallacies my rising grief I cheered:
"Resigned I bear," said I, "Heaven's just reproof,
Content to dwell beneath a stranger's roof-
Content my babes should eat dependent bread,
Or by the labour of my hands be fed.
What though my houses, lands, and goods, are gone,
My babes remain-these I can call my own!"
But soon my loved Abella hung her head-
From her soft cheek the bright carnation fled;
Her smooth, transparent skin too plainly showed
How fierce through every vein the fever glowed.
-In bitter anguish o'er her limbs I hung,
wept and sighed, but sorrow chained my tongue; At length her languid eyes closed from the day, The idol of my soul was torn away;
Her spirit fled, and left me ghastly clay!
Then then my soul rejected all relief,
Comfort I wished not, for I loved my grief: "Hear, my Abella,” cried I, "hear me mourn ' For one short moment, O my child! return; Iet my complaint detain thee from the skies, Though troops of angels urge thee on to rise"... My friends officious care,
Bid me suppress my sighs, nor drop a tear;
Of resignation talked-passions subdued—
Of souls serene, and Christian fortitude-
Bade me be calm, nor murmur at my loss,
But unrepining bear each heavy cross.
"Go,” cried I, raging, "stoic bosoms, go!
Whose hearts vibrate not to the sound of woe.
Go from the sweet society of men,
Seek some unfeeling tiger's savage den,
There, calm, alone, of resignation preach-
My Christ's examples better precepts teach."
Where the cold limbs of gentle Lazarus lay,
I find Him weeping o'er the humid clay;
His spirit groaned, while the beholders said,
With gushing eyes,
"See how He loved the dead!"
Yes, 'tis my boast to harbour in my breast
The sensibilities by God expressed;
Nor shall the mollifying hand of Time,
Which wipes off common sorrows, cancel mine.
AIR flower that dost so comely grow,
Hid in this silent, dull retreat,
Untouched thy honeyed blossoms blow,
Unseen thy little branches greet:
No roving foot shall crush thee here,
No busy hand provoke a tear.
By Nature's self in white arrayed,
She bade thee shun the vulgar eye,
And planted here the guardian shade,
And sent soft waters murmuring by;
Thus quietly thy summer goes-
Thy, days declining to repose.
Smit with those charms that must decay,
I grieve to see your future doom;
They died-nor were those flowers more gay-
The flowers that did in Eden bloom;
Unpitying frosts and Autumn's power
Shall leave no vestige of this flower.
From morning suns and evening dews
At first thy little being came:
If nothing once, you nothing lose,
For when you die you are the same;
The space between is but an hour,
The frail duration of a flower
HE sun sets at night, and the stars shun the day,
But glory remains when their lights fade away:
Begin, ye tormentors! your threats are in vain,
For the son of Alknomock can never complain.
Remember the woods where in ambush he lay,
And the scalps which he bore from your nation away!
Why do ye delay ?-till I shrink from my pain?
Know the son of Alknomock can never complain.
Remember the arrows he shot from his bow
Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid lcw!
The flame rises high-you exult in my pain!--
But the son of Alknomock will never complain.
go to the land where my father is gone; His ghost shall exult in the fame of his son.
Death comes like a friend; he relieves me from pain, And thy son, O Alknomock! has scorned to complain
Susannah Rowson.
AMERICA, COMMERCE, AND FREEDOM.
(1795.)
OW blest a life a sailor leads,
From clime to clime still ranging;
For as the calm the storm succeeds,
The scene delights by changing!
When tempests howl along the main,
Some object will remind us,
And cheer with hopes to meet again
Those friends we've left behind us.
Then, under snug sail, we laugh at the gale,
And though landsmen look pale, never heed 'em ;
But toss off a glass to a favourite lass,
To America, commerce, and freedom!
And when arrived in sight of land,
Or safe in port rejoicing,
Our ship we moor, our sails we hand,
Whilst out the boat is hoisting.
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