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And oft, in fancy's saddest hour, my soul
Thy corse of livid hue :
Is this the land of song-ennobled line?
Pour'd forth his lofty strain ?
And o'er her darling dead
Pity hopeless hung her head, While “mid the pelting of that merciless storm,” Sunk to the cold earth Otway's famish'd form !
Sublime of thought, and confident of fame,
Light-hearted youth ! he hastes along,
And meditates the future song,
See, as floating high in air
Glitter the sunny visions fair,
Yes! clad in nature's rich array, And bright in all her tender hues, Sweet tree of hope! thou loveliest child of spring Most fair didst thou disclose thine early bloom, Loading the west-winds with its soft perfume ! And fancy, elfin form of gorgeous wing,
Avon, a river near Bristol, the birthplace of Chatterton.
blossom hung her fostering dews, l'hat, changeful, wanton'd to the orient day! But soon upon thy poor unshelter'd head Diu penury her sickly mildew shed : Anú owon the scathing Lightning bade thee stand In frowning horror o'er the blighted land !
Ah! where are fled the charms of vernal Grace,
Youth of tumultuous soul, and haggard eye!
When Care, of wither'd brow,
When near thee stood Affection meek
(Her bosom bare, and wildly pale her cheek)
See, see her breast's convulsive throe,
Her silent agony of woe!
And thou had'st dash'd it, at her soft command,
But that Despair and Indignation rose,
And told again the story of thy woes; Told the keen insult of th' unfeeling heart;
The dread dependence on the low-born mind į
The shame and anguish of the evil day,
O Chatterton! that thou wert yet alive!
Sure thou would'st spread the canvass to the gale, And love, with us, the tinkling team to drive
O’er peaceful Freedom's undivided dale,
All deftly mask'd, as hoar Antiquity.
SONGS OF THE PIXIES. Tas Pixies, in the superstition of Devonshire, are a raco of beings invisibly small, and harmless or friendly to man. At & small dis. tance from a village in that country, half way up a wood-covered hill, is an excavation, called the Pixies' Parlour. The roots of old trees form its ceiling; and on its sides are innumerable cyphers, among which the author discovered his own cypher and those of his brothers, cut by the hand of their childhood. At the foot of the hill fows the river Otter. To this place the author conducted a party of young ladies, during the summer months of the year 1793, one of
whom, of stature elegantly small, and of complexion colourless yet clear, was proclaimed the Fairy Queen, on which occasion, and at which time, the following irregular ode was written.
Whom the untaught Shepherds call
Builds it's nest and warbles well;
Welcome, Ladies ! to our cell.
When fades the moon all shadowy pale,
But not our filmy pinion
We scorch amid the blaze of day
Aye, from the sultry heat