ODE XXVIII.

LIFE.

LIFE! the dear precarious boon! Soon we lose, alas! how soon! Fleeting vision, falsely gay! Grasp'd in vain, it fades away, Mixing with surrounding shades, Lovely vision! how it fades! Let the Muse, in fancy's glass, Catch the phantoms as they pass : See they rise! a nymph behold Careless, wanton, young and bold; Mark her devious, hasty pace, Antic dress, and thoughtless face, Smiling cheeks, and roving eyes, Causeless mirth, and vain surprizeTripping at her side, a boy Shares her wonder, and her joy; This is Folly, Childhood's guide, This is Childhood at her side. What is he succeeding now, Myrtles blooming on his brow, Bright, and blushing, as the morn, Not on earth a mortal born

Shafts, to pierce the strong I view,

Wings, the flying to pursue ;

Victim of his power, behind

Stalks a slave of human kind,
Whose disdain of all the free
Speaks his mind's captivity.
Love's the tyrant, Youth the slave,
Youth in vain is wise or brave;
Love with conscious pride defies
All the brave, and all the wise.
Who art thou with anxious mien
Stealing o'er the shifting scene?
Eyes, with tedious vigils red,
Sighs, by doubts and wishes bred,
Cautious step, and glancing leer,
Speak thy woes, and speak thy fear;
Arm in arm, what wretch is he
Like thyself, who walks with thee?
Like thy own his fears and woes,
All thy pangs his bosom knows:
Well, too well! my boding breast
Knows the names your looks suggest,
Anxious, busy, restless pair!

Manhood, link'd by fate to Care.
Wretched state! and yet 'tis dear-

Fancy, close the prospect here !
Close it, or recall the past,

Spare my eyes, my heart, the last.
Vain the wish; the last appears,
While I gaze it swims in tears;

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Age-my future self—I trace
Moving slow with feeble pace,
Bending with disease and cares,
All the load of life he bears;
White his locks, his visage wan,
Strength, and ease, and hope are gone.
Death, the shadowy form I know!
Death o'ertakes him, dreadful foe!
Swift they vanish-mournful sight,
Night succeeds, impervious night!
What these dreadful glooms conceal
Fancy's glass can ne'er reveal;
When shall time the veil remove?
When shall light the scene improve?
When shall truth my doubts dispell ?
Awful period! who can tell?

ODE XXIX.

MADNESS.

BY THE REV. THOMAS PENROSE.

SWELL the clarion, sweep the string,
Blow into rage the Muse's fires!
All thy answers, Echo, bring,

Let wood and dale, let rock and valley ring, 'Tis MADNESS' self inspires.

Hail, awful MADNESS, hail!

Thy realm extends, thy powers prevail, Far as the voyager spreads his 'ventrous sail. Nor best nor wisest are exempt from thee; Folly Folly's only free.

Hark! To the astonish'd ear

The gale conveys a strange tumultuous sound.
They now approach, they now appear,―
Phrenzy leads her Chorus near,
And Daemons dance around.-

Pride-Ambition idly vain,

Revenge, and malice swell her train,

Devotion warp'd-Affection crost―
Hope in disappointment lost-

And injur'd Merit, with a downcast eye

(Hurt by neglect) slow stalking heedless by.

Loud the shouts of MADNESS rise,
Various voices, various cries,
Mirth unmeaning—causeless moans,
Bursts of laughter-heart-felt groans—

All seem to pierce the skies.—

Rough as the wintry wave, that roars
On THULE's desart shores,
Wild raving to the unfeeling air,
The fetter'd Maniac foams along,

(Rage the burthen of his jarring song)

In rage he grinds his teeth, and rends his streaming hair.

No pleasing memory left-forgotten quite
All former scenes of dear delight,
Connubial love-parental joy—

No sympathies like these his soul employ,

-But all is dark within, all furious black despair.

Not so the love-lorn Maid,

By too much tenderness betray'd;

Her gentle breast no angry passion fires,

But slighted vows possess, and fainting, soft desires.