He wrests the wreath from Richlieu's' brows,

Which Fraud or Faction planted there; France to the gallant hero bows,

And Europe's chiefs his name revere. Arise, paternal, &c.

With partial conquest on their side!

The sons of Gaul-a pageant crew! Rank, but inglorious in their pride,

To Blakeney, and his vanquish'd few. Arise, paternal, &c.

Hiberuia 2, with maternal care,

His labour'd statue lifts on high:
Be partial, Time!-the trophy spare,
That Blakeney's name may never die!
Arise, paternal glory, rise!

And lift your Blakeney to the skies!

ON A VERY YOUNG LADY.
SEE how the buds and blossoms shoot:
How sweet will be the summer fruit!
Let us behold the infant rose;
How fragrant when its beauty blows!
The morning smiles, serenely gay;
How bright will be the promis'd day!
Contemplate next the charming maid,
In early innocence array'd!

If, in the morning of her years,
A lustre so intense appears,

When time shall point her noon-tide rays,
When her meridian charms shall blaze,
None but the eagle-ey'd must gaze,

A SONNET:

ADDRESSED TO MISS S

WHEN Flora decks the mantling bowers,

In elegant array,

And scatters all her opening flowers,

A compliment to May!

With glowing joy my bosom beats;
I gaze delighted round,

And wish to see the various sweets

In one rich nosegay bound.

'Tis granted-and their bloom display'd, To bless my wond'ring view;

I see them all-my beauteous maid,
I see them all in-you.

ANACREON. ODE V.

IMITATED.

THE ROSE.

SHED roses in the sprightly juice,
Prepar'd for every social use!
So shall the earthly nectar prove
A draught for all-imperial Jove.

Ourselves, with rosy chaplets bound, Shall sing, and set the goblet round.

Richlieu, commander of the expedition against Port Mahon.

A statue was erected in Dublin to the memory of general Blakeney, who was a native of Ireland.

Thee, ever gentle Rose, we greet, We worship thee, delicious sweet! For though by mighty gods caress'd, You deign to make us mortals blest. The Cupids, and the Graces fair, With myrtle sprigs adorn their hair; And nimbly strike celestial ground, Eternal roses blooming round.

Bring us more sweets, ere these expire, And reach me that harmonious lyre; Gay Bacchus, Jove's convivial son, Shall lead us to his fav'rite ton: Among the sporting youths and maids, Beneath the vine's auspicious shades, For ever young-for ever gay, We'll dance the jovial hours away.

MOSCHUS. IDYLLIUM VII.
(AS TRANSLATED by dr. Broome.)

TO THE EVENING STAR.

HAIL, golden star, of ray serene!
Thou fav'rite of the Cyprian queen!
O Hesper glory of the night,
Diffusing through the gloom, delight!
Whose beams, all other stars outshine,
As much as silver Cynthia, thine:
O guide me, speeding o'er the plain,
To him I love, my shepherd swain;
He keeps the mirthful feast, and soon
Dark shades will cloud the splendid Moon.
Of lambs I never robb'd the fold,
Nor the lone traveller of gold:
Love is my crime: O! lend thy ray

To guide a lover on her way.

May the bright star of Venus prove
The gentle harbinger of Love!

***To this Idyllium (translated by Dr. Broome) the author owns himself indebted for a hint, from which the following Pastoral proceeds.

A PASTORAL.

WHERE the fond Zephyr through the woodbine

plays,

And wakes sweet fragrance in the mantling bow'r, Near to that grove my lovely bridegroom stays Impatient-for 'tis past-the promis'd hour! Lend me thy light, O ever-sparkling star!

Bright Hesper! in thy glowing pomp array'd, Look down, look down, from thy all-glorious car, And beam protection on a wand'ring maid. 'Tis to escape the penetrating spy,

And pass, unnotic'd, from malignant sight,
This dreary waste, full resolute I try,

And trust my footsteps to the shades of night.
The Moon has slipp'd behind an envious cloud,
Her smiles, so gracious, I no longer view;
Let her remain behind that envious shroud,
My hopes, bright Hesperus, depend on you.
No rancour ever reach'd my harmless breast;
I hurt no birds, nor rob the bustling bee:
Hear, then, what Love and Innocence request,
And shed your kindest influence on me.