Aspiring, first uninterrupted winds
His prosperous way; nor fears miscarriage foul,
While policy prevails and friends prove true:
But that support soon failing, by him left
On whom he most depended,-basely left,
ed, deserted, from his airy height
Betray falls, and through the rest of life
Headlong head of disappointment on.
Drags the dull
TRANSLATION OF PSA
To Babylon's proud waters brought,
In bondage where we lay,
With tears on Sion's Hill we thought,
And sighed our hours away;
Neglected on the willows hung
Our useless harps, while every tongue
Bewailed the fatal day.
Then did the base insulting foe
Some joyous notes demand,
Such as in Sion used to flow
From Judah's happy band:
Alas! what joyous notes have we,
Our country spoiled, no longer free,
And in a foreign land?
O Solyma! if e'er thy praise
Be silent in my song,
Rude and unpleasing be the lays,
And artless be my tongue!
fancy still employs;
-f my joys,
Thy name my
To thee, great fountain or
My sweetest airs belong.
Remember, Lord! that hostile sound,
When Edom's children cried,
"Razed be her turrets to the ground,
And humbled be her pride!"
Remember, Lord! and let the foe
The terrors of thy vengeance know,
The vengeance they defied!
Thou too, great Babylon, shalt fall
A victim to our God;
Thy monstrous crimes already call
For heaven's chastising rod.
Happy who shall thy little ones
Relentless dash against the stones,
And spread their limbs abroad.
No more shall hapless Celia's ears
Be fluttered with the cries
Of lovers drowned in floods of tears,
Or murdered by her eyes;
No serenades to break her rest,
Nor songs her slumbers to molest,
With my fa, la, la.
The fragrant flowers that once would
And flourish in her hair, [bloom
Since she no longer breathes perfume
Their odours to repair,
Must fade, alas! and wither now,
As placed on any common brow,
With my fa, la, la.
Her lip, so winning and so meek,
No longer has its charms;
As well she might by whistling seek
To lure us to her arms;
MORTALS! around your destined heads
Thick fly the shafts of Death,
And lo! the savage spoiler spreads
A thousand toils beneath.
In vain we trifle with our fate;
Try every art in vain;
At best we but prolong the date,
And lengthen out our pain.
Fondly we think all danger fled,
For Death is ever nigh;
Outstrips our unavailing speed,
Or meets us as we fly.
Thus the wrecked mariner may strive
Some desert shore to gain,
Secure of life, if he survive
The fury of the main.
But there, to famine doomed a prey,
Finds the mistaken wretch
He but escaped the troubled sea,
To perish on the beach.
Since then in vain we strive to guard
Our frailty from the foe,
Lord, let me live not unprepared
To meet the fatal blow!
WILLIAM was once a bashful youth;
His modesty was such,
That one might say (to say the truth)
He rather had too much.
Some said that it was want of sense, And others want of spirit, (So blest a thing is impudence,)
While others could not bear it.
But some a different notion had,
And at each other winking, Observed, that though he little said, He paid it off with thinking. Howe'er, it happened, by degrees, He mended and grew perter; In company was more at ease, And dressed a little smarter;
Nay, now and then would look quite gay,
As other people do ;
And sometimes said, or tried to say,
A witty thing or so.
He eyed the women, and made free
To comment on their shapes;
So that there was, or seemed to be,
No fear of a relapse.
The women said, who thought him rough,
But now no longer foolish,
"The creature may do well enough,
But wants a deal of polish."
At length, improved from head to heel,
'Twere scarce too much to say,
No dancing bear was so genteel,
Or half so dégagé.
Now that a miracle so strange
May not in vain be shown, Let the dear maid who wrought change
E'er claim him for her own.
WOULD my Delia know if I love, let her take
My last thought at night, and the first when I wake;
When my prayers and best wishes preferred for her sake.
Let her guess what I muse on, when, rambling alone,
I stride o'er the stubble each day with my gun,
Never ready to shoot till the covey is flown.
Let her think what odd whimsies I have in my brain,
When I read one page over and over again,
And discover at last that I read it in vain.
Let her say why so fixed and so steady my look,
Without ever regarding the person who spoke,
Still affecting to laugh, without hearing the joke.
Or why when with pleasure her praises I hear
(That sweetest of melody sure to my ear),
Ì attend, and at once inattentive appear.
And lastly, when summoned to drink to my flame,
Let her guess why I never once mention her name,
Though herself and the woman I love are the same.
FULL thirty frosts since thou wert young
Have chilled the withered grove,
Thou wretch! and hast thou lived so long,
Nor yet forgot to love!
Ye Sages! spite of your pretences
To wisdom, you must own
Your folly frequently commences
When you acknowledge none.
Not that I deem it weak to love,
Or folly to admire ;
But ah! the pangs we lovers prove
Far other years require.
Unheeded on the youthful brow
The beams of Phoebus play;
But unsupported Age stoops low
Beneath the sultry ray.
For once, then, if untutored youth,
Youth unapproved by years,
May chance to deviate into truth,
When your experience errs;
For once attempt not to despise
What I esteem a rule:
Who early loves, though young, is wise,—
Who old, though grey, a fool.
ON READING MR. RICHARDSON'S HISTORY OF SIR CHARLES GRANDISON.
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