Ships that trace the watʼry stage,
Cannot coast it in an age;

Harts nor horses, strong and fleet,
Had they wings to help their feet,
Could not run it half way o'er
In ten thousand days and more.

Yet the silly wand'ring mind,
Loth to be too much confin'd,
Roves and takes her daily tours,
Coasting round the narrow shores,
Narrow shores of flesh and sense,
Picking shells and pebbles thence;
Or she sits at fancy's door,
Calling shapes and shadows to her,
Foreign visits still receiving,
And t' herself a stranger living.
Never, never would she buy
Indian dust, or Tyrian dye,
Never trade abroad for more,
If she saw her native store,

If her inward worth were known,
She might ever live alone.

Watts.

SONG.

WHEN the shades of night pursuing,
O'er the ruffled billows creep,
The sailor oft the gloom reviewing,
Cheerless wanders o'er the deep.
Haply then in splendour rolling,
From the realms of parted day,
The cloudless moon his peace restoring,
Mounts and guides him on his way.

Julia, thus, when hope retreating,

Yields to care my tortur'd breast;
When my heart with anguish beating,
Sinks with cold despair oppress'd;

One soft smile thy lips disclosing,
Bids the wild emotions cease;

One kind glance my breast composing,

Stills my heart, and all is peace.

Monthly Magazine.

ODE.

FE

ERREUM credis mihi pectus? Ah si Semper obducto riguisset ære!

Tum nec exactæ mea mens doloret

Gaudia vitæ.

Me nec aversum quereretur amens
Nymphaquæ sese viduata deflet,
Meque mordaci nimium fidelem

Ipsa testetur vaga luna nostrum,

Voce lacessit.

Dum jubar purum per inane manat,
Vana luserunt quoties amoris

Somnia mentem.

Illa dum cælo tacito niteret,
Audiit nostræ gemitum querelœ;
Sæpe non fictæ fuit illa flammæ

Conscia nostræ.

Priscus et jamjam calor ille vivit ;
Sæpe desertam recolo Camillam,
Et mihi mæsto facies puellæ

Sæpe recursat.

Perge me diris onerare verbis,
Et licet linguâ male provocaris
Me tuæ nunquam meminisse formæ.

Chara pigebit.

TRANSLATION

OF THE FOREGOING ODE.

AND dost thou think my heart is hard ?
In solid brass, oh! were it bound,
Then should I look, with light regard,

On life's short joys, all fleeting sound!

Then should no fond complaining maid, (The pangs of absence doom'd to prove)

My ever-faithful breast upbraid

With all her woes of slighted love!

How oft has wand'ring Luna's beam,
Slow stealing o'er the cloudless sky,
Beheld bright Love's delusive dream
Wanton before my mental eye!

How oft, the silent heav'ns along,
What time in radiant pomp she shone,

To her I pour'd my plaintive song,
And made my faithful passion known.

Still, still my wonted warmth remains,
Camilla, still remains for thee;

Fancy thy long-lost form retains,

Thy sorrowing looks methink I see!

With deep reproach my soul invade,

And though thy harsh words wound my ear,
Ne'er shall it grieve me, gentle maid,

That mem'ry held thy beauties dear!

County Magazine.

TO SOLITUDE.

FAR from Ambition's selfish train, Where Av'rice rules the busy day, And patient Folly "hugs his chain," Enslav'd by Custom's ruthless sway, Lead me, calm spirit! to some still retreat,

Where silence shares with thee the blooming mead, Save when at distance heard, in cadence sweet, The village minstrel tunes his simple reed. There, free from cares, from jarring passions free, Oft may I strike the lyre, sweet Solitude! to thee.

When orient morn, in blushing pride,
Profusely sheds the glist'ning dew,
Oft let me climb the mountain's side,
And raptur'd mark the vary'd view.