Has many virtues; many a charming trait
That rules the feelings with resistless sway.
O! you would love her with affection true,
And she would idolize, would doat on you:

Kind Emma, too, her Father, noble, just,

Will see her virtues, and approve, I trust.

From him, all-gen'rous, almost more than man,
What kind consent! 'Twas thus his letter ran :

"Fred'ric, be happy words can say no more.

"A Father's duties, then, and cares, are o'er "Such I have been, 1 fondly hope; and now

"Would more express, did but these tears allow "An old man's tears

they fall and blot the line

"That would the blessing give to thee and thine.”

One thought oppresses me; but some alloy
Must mingle with and sully human joy.

Sophia loves not England; seems to shrink

If of dear home and dearer friends I think.

Her Mother seems her strange distaste to share,

And careless adds "One's home is ev'ry where."

I knew not this, till but her ardent love

Will conquer all, and this disgust remove.

FREDERIC TO EUGENIA.

As from the horrors of a midnight dream

I seem to wake! alas! I do but seem

For in the day's broad glare, or dead of night,

Unseen by all, or gazing crowds in sight,

Alike the phantoms in my presence stand,

Curse my hard heart, and ruthless murd'rers brand.

Yet will I dare the dreadful past recal,

And, Heav'n my senses sparing, tell thee all.

Seymour has written but could he impart

Half that has wrung, and agoniz'd my heart!

Kind though he be — and nights, and nights, have fled,

And seen him watching by my sleepless bed.

Poor, poor Sophia! - Oft my letters told

How I, by prayers and winning arts controul'd,
My wish'd return consented to delay

Now this, now that deferr'd th' appointed day.
What! leave such scenery at so sweet a time?
Her mother (wretch!) to whom the genial clime

Seem'd to restore the health so long denied

And time still dearer arguments supplied:

Wait but her infant's birth-O! let it there,

If for her safety only, first draw air.

O! I have told thee how the father felt

What sweet emotions did this bosom melt.

It was the loveliest infant but lie still

My throbbing heart, ere nightly horrors thrill,

And paint that look, when, with convulsive grasp,
Her little fingers did a father's clasp,

And, with a sweet, though all-unconscious smile,
Look'd as 'twould pity and forgive the while.
Two summer moons their silver lustre shed
O'er its soft features on that tiny bed;

For on its sleeping charms we lov'd to gaze,

And deem'd them beauteous in the moon's pale rays;

When, as we kiss'd its outstretch'd, dimpled hand,

The next day's pleasure we exulting planu'd

Yes we would both the cooling breeze enjoy,

- -

And taste delight that never yet could cloy;

Would on the Tiber waste the sultry day

Nay, e'en her Mother should the call obey,

Though from her own veranda rarely led to stray.

The Day was lovely; and Sophia cried,

"Is aught in this wide world so sweet beside ?" "Yes, dearest love," I said, "a Mother's kiss, "And friends' fond welcome, sweeter were than this!" Our boatman question'd, ere we left the shore, "Would we permit just one companion more?

"Avrà gran gusto, Signor," — and he came, Ere we, half angry, could denial frame:

But seen Sophia - with delight he flew "Sophia! Sister dear! and is it you?

"Where is my brother? where the darling boy?

"Four years of absence past, this, this is joy!" Sophia's face I saw not she had shrunk

and on her Mother's bosom sunk.

"Charles," said that cursed Mother, "now she bears

"Another name, another union shares.

"Divorced from Aubrey, her repentance past

"Deserv'd the blessing she has found at last."

With agony no feelings could withstand

66 Forgive me," he exclaim'd, " forgive me all

"Worlds would I give I could my words recal.

"O my poor Brother! what his anguish too! "He that once lov'd her with a love so true! "Sir! I have seen him gaze upon that face,

"As if in ev'ry look he could an angel trace.

"He flew to grant each wish her mind could frame;

"Or trivial, or important, 'twas the same.

"The basilisk !" I saw, I heard no more,

And fled, scarce conscious whither, on the shore

But Seymour followed me. We went not home;
Thither, no doubt, the guilty pair would come.
I sent to claim my Child. A line was brought,
A trembling line, that pity humbly sought
For that poor infant: let, O let it rest,

For Heav'n's sweet mercy, on a mother's breast
'Twas all its sustenance

awhile forbear

I bade them say I yielded to her prayer.
O! then what supplicating letters came,
Speaking a mind all penitence and shame!
A life of duteous love should pay the debt,

Did I but see her pardon, and forget.

Nay, she would kiss the very dust I trod,

Cringe, as a slave beneath the tyrant's rod;