Calls Echo from her cell. Be warn'd, ye fair, that listen round, A maid who lov'd too well. The bright-hair'd sun with warmth benign Again the streams refresh the plains, Life-giving Zephyrs breathe around, The sun's too quick-revolving beam Then happiest he, whose lengthen'd sight Pursues, by virtue's constant light, A hope beyond the skies: Where frowning Winter ne'er shall come, But rosy Spring for ever bloom, And suns eternal rise. ON THE ARRIVAL OF SPRING. ADDRESSED TO A LADY IN LONDON. BY MISS CARTER. WHILE Soft through water, earth, and air, The vernal spirits rove, To rural scenes remove. The mountain snows are all dissolv'd, The circling planets' constant rounds The wintry wastes repair, And still from temporary death Renew the verdant year. But ah! when once our transient bloom, The spring of life, is o'er, That rosy season takes its flight, And must return no more. Yet judge by Reason's sober rules, Each moral pleasure of the heart, The vain coquet, whose empty pride May justly dread the wintry gloom Leave such a ruin to deplore Nor age, nor wrinkles, discompose Amidst the universal change, It views unmov'd the scythe of Time Sweep all besides away. Fix'd on its own eternal frame While, borne on transitory wings, While ev'ry short-liv'd flower of sense Destructive years consume, Through friendship's fair enchanting walks Unfading myrtles bloom. Nor with the narrow bounds of time But lengthen'd through the vale of death |