Then, as I watch, while my ROSALIA sings,
Her seraph fingers sweep the sounding strings,
In soft response to sorrow's melting lay,

Or joy's loud swell, that steals our cares away,
My heart shall vibrate to the heav'nly sound,
And bless the stars our mutual fates that bound.

And oft, when darkness veils the stormy skies, Beneath our roof shall FRIENDSHIP's voice arise; On ev'ry breast her sacred influence pour'd, Shall crown with gen'rous mirth our social board; The chosen few, to TASTE and VIRTUE dear, Shall meet a welcome, simple, but sincere.

Not from our door, his humble pray'r denied, The friendless man shall wander unsupplied; Ne'er shall the wretch, whom fortune's ills assail, Tell there in vain his melancholy tale : Thy heart, where NATURE'S noblest feelings glow, Will throb to heal the bending stranger's woe; On mercy's errand wilt thou oft explore The crazy dwellings of the neighb'ring poor, To blunt the stings of want's unsparing rage, To smooth the short and painful path of age, The childless widow's drooping head to raise, And cheer her soul with hopes of better days: For thee the pray'r affliction's child shall frame, And lisping orphans bless ROSALIA's name.

Soon shall new objects thy affection share, New hopes, new duties claim ROSALIA's care. How will thy anxious eye exulting trace The charms and virtues of thy infant-race! Thy tender hand with sense and taste refin'd Shall stamp each impulse of the rip'ning mind, And early teach their little steps to stray Through VIRTUE's paths, and WISDOM's flow'ry way.

Thus may our lives in one smooth tenor flow; Possess'd of thee, I ask no more below. That constant love, which bless'd with genial rays The bright and happy spring-time of our days, Shall still dispel the clouds of woe and strife

From the full summer of progressive life.
The hand of TIME may quench the ardent fire
Of rising passion, and of young desire;

But that pure flame esteem first taught to burn
Can only perish in the silent urn.

And when the last, the solemn hour draws near,
That bids us part from all that charm'd us here,
Then on our thoughts the heav'nly hope shall rise,
To meet in higher bliss, in better skies,

In those bright mansions of the just above,
Where all is RAPTURE, INNOCENCE, and LOVE.

MARIA'S RETURN TO HER NATIVE COTTAGE.

[First published in 1806.]

Si perda la vita,
Finisca il martire;

E meglio morire,

Che viver cosi.-METASTASIO.

HE whit'ning ground

THE

In frost is bound;

The snow is swiftly falling;

'While coldly blows the northern breeze,
And whistles through the leafless trees,
In hollow sounds appalling.

On this cold plain,

Now reach'd with pain,

Once stood my father's dwelling:

Where smiling pleasure once was found,

Now desolation frowns around,

And wintry blasts are yelling.
Hope's visions wild

My thoughts beguil'd,

My earliest days delighting,
Till unsuspected treach❜ry came,
Beneath affection's specious name,
The lovely prospect blighting.

With many a wile
Of blackest guile

Did HENRY first deceive me: What winning words to him were giv'n! He swore, by all the pow'rs of HEAV'N, That he would never leave me.

With fondest truth

I lov'd the youth:
My soul to guilt a stranger,
Knew not, in those too simple hours,
That oft beneath the sweetest flow'rs
Is couch'd the deadliest danger.

With him to roam

I fled my home;

I burst the bonds of duty;

I thought my days in joy would roll;
But HENRY hid a demon's soul

Beneath an angel's beauty!

Shall this poor heart

E'er cease to smart?

Oh never! never! never!

Did av'rice whisper thee, or pride,
False HENRY! for a wealthier bride

To cast me off for ever?

My sire was poor:
No golden store

Had he, no earthly treasure:
I only could his griefs assuage,
The only pillar of his age,

His only source of pleasure.

With anguish wild,

He miss'd his child,

And long in vain he sought her: The fiercest thunderbolts of heav'n Shall on thy guilty head be driv'n, Thou DISOBEDIENT DAUGHTER !

I feel his fears,

I see his tears,

I hear his groans of sadness: My cruel falsehood seal'd his doom: He seems to curse me from the tomb, And fire my brain to madness!

Oh! keenly blow,

While drifts the snow,

The cold nocturnal breezes ; On me the gath'ring snow-flakes rest, And colder grows my friendless breast; My very heart-blood freezes!

FIOLFAR, KING OF NORWAY.*

[First published in 1806.]

....agmina

Ferrata vasto diruit impetu.-HOR.

I.

N the dark-rolling waves at the verge of the west
The steeds of DELLINGER† had hasten'd to rest,

I

While HRIMFAX‡ advanc'd through the star-spangled
plain,

And shook the thick dews from his grey-flowing mane;
The moon with pale lustre was shining on high,
And meteors shot red down the paths of the sky.
By the shore of the ocean FIOLFAR reclin'd,

Where through the rock-fissures loud-murmur'd the wind,
For sweet to his ear was the deep-dashing flow

Of the foam-cover'd billows that thunder'd below.
-"Alas!" he exclaim'd, "were the hopes of my youth,
Though rais'd by affection, unfounded on truth?
Ye are flown, ye sweet prospects, deceitfully fair,
As the light-rolling gossamer melts into air;
As the wild-beating ocean, with turbulent roar,
Effaces my steps on the sands of the shore!
Thy waters, oh NIORD !§ tumultuously roll,
And such are the passions that war in my soul:
Thy meteors, oh NORVER!|| malignantly dart,
And such are the death-flames that burn in my
NITALPHA! my love! on the hill and the plain,
In the vale and the wood, have I sought thee in vain ;
Through the nations for thee have I carried afar
The sunshine of peace and the tempests of war;

heart.

*Though the names of Odin and Thor, the Fatal Sisters, and the Hall of Valhalla, be familiar to the readers of English poetry, yet, as the minutiae of the Gothic Mythology are not very generally known, I have subjoined a few short explanatory notes, which, though they cannot be expected to afford much insight into the general system, will, I trust, be sufficient to enable my readers to comprehend such parts of it as are alluded to in this poem.

+ Day.

The steed of the evening twilight.

§ The god of the sea and wind.

|| Night.