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Where the pale lamp's waning eye
At eve, from out the cloister'd nook,
Casts o'er the gloom a lingering look,
There let the sage his labours ply;
And many a feat of champion bold,
And many a legendary rhyme
Snatch from the sepulchre of Time,

And frequent, as the night grows old,
At fear-engender'd forms recoil aghast,
And hear unhallow'd ghosts wail in each hollow

blast.

But o'er my haunts with influence bland
Let evening fling her welcome shade :
Then mid the dance, O beauteous mạid !
Let me thine unreluctant hand
Enraptured seize : or let the lyre,
Obedient to thy soft control,
Bind in harmonious chains my soul,

And ecstasy and bliss inspire ;
While to the charmed ear in heavenly strains,
Enamourd of thy touch, each trembling chord

complains.
Then, fairest, let my bosom feel
Thy smile's exhilarating power,
Grateful as, mid noon's sultry hour,
The grot where trickling dews congeal :
And, in the rich grape's purple tide
When Joy and genial Pleasure swim,
Do thou but kiss its crystal brim,

And to the bard the goblet guide;
So shall my song exalt thy praise above
Hebe, who bids o'erflow the nectar'd cup of Jove.

REV. G. HUDDISFORD.

AMATORY ODE.

Now hath the Sun his evanescent fires

Quench'd in the billows of the western main; Cease their soft carols all the feather'd choirs,

And gloomy solitude usurps the plain. Rise, ye deep shades, ye waves in darkness roll,

Ye feather'd choirs, to silence yield the grove, For Lesbia sleeps : nor cheers my pensive soul

The glance of rapture nor the voice of love. Ye winds, whose havoc-spreading pinions ply

Their furious speed, and with dire yell invade This nether world, whose wasteful tyranny

Pale Dryads mourn in many a ruin'd shade; Wake not my love :-Let not your thundering cry

With dread alarm the haunt of peace infest; Here breathe in soft Æolian melody

Each cadence sweet that charms the soul to rest. Ye spectres (whom belated pilgrims fear,

Issuing in throngs from charnel, vault, or tomb, What time deep shadowing clouds thy radiant

sphere, Cynthia, involve in night's meridian gloom), Hence to deserted fane or mouldering hall,

Or the gaunt felon's ruthless course control; With monitory shriek the wretch appal,

And to compunction wake his torpid soul. But walk not near the couch were Lesbia lies

Like some rich pearl in its enamel'd shell, Or sainted relic, from profaner eyes

Secluded in the dim shrine's silver cell,

Wanton, ye fairies, round her tranquil bower,

With blissful elves fantastic measures tread ; O’er her soft eyelids dews of opiate pour, Cull’d from choice blooms, in showers of fra

grance shed: Let your bright tapers' visionary ray

The raven-tinctured robe of Night illume; And, streaming o'er your spangled crests, display

The wave-enamour'd halcyon's emerald plume. And bid your minstrel fays, a shadowy choir, That charm the planets from their spheres sub

lime, Celestial songs, that love and joy inspire,

Chant to their golden harps' harmonious chime. And when morn's purple streaks the’horizon stain,

And fairies fly the peal of Chanticleer, Let Fancy still your glittering hues retain,

Still let your wild notes tremble on her ear. Then, Lesbia, wake thy beauties, fresher far

Than Galatea boasted when she laved In the smooth deep her coral-axled car,

And the stern heart of Neptune's son enslaved. Wake at his call, to soothe whose soul in vain

Morn sheds her radiant beam, her odorous airs, Save when, attentive to his artless strain,

That radiant beam, those odours Lesbia shares. He asks no laureate wreath to deck his brows,

No golden meed his bounded wishes claim, Bless'd if the object of his tenderest vows

Smile on his lay—for Lesbia's smile is fame.

REV. G. HUDDISFORD,

TO

THE NAIAD OF GLYMPTON BROOK.

NAIAD, unseen of mortal eyes,

Whose light steps haunt this current lone, Where gentle Zephyr's balmy sighs,

With thy wild wave in unison, Blend their aerial melodies;

Let me to thy deserted shades

Reveal the never dying flame That all my pensive soul pervades,

And teach thine echoes Lesbia's name Ere the soft light of evening fades !

Unheard, unnoticed, let me rove

Thy trembling osier wreaths among,
And woo the Muse where none reprove

Affection's unambitious song,
Nor chide the plaint of hopeless love.

There, when the Day's dim eyelids close,

Hide me within some shadowy cave;
And, ministering to calm repose,

Oh, softly bid thy babbling wave
Kiss the dank sedge that round it grows!

No angler's cruel arts are mine,

Ye timid tenants of the brook! Wrought by my hand no viewless line,

Disguised by me no treacherous hook Bids you your little lives resign.

Nor this pellucid rill refrain

To sip, ye minstrels of the air!
Your downy plumage to distain

With blood, no fatal tube I bear,
Nor pay with death your artless strain.
That breast no savage sports can share

Where glow Affection's generous fires ;
Soft Pity finds her mansion there,

All whom the breath of life inspires By her own sorrow taught to spare. Mine, gentle Naiad, be the dell

Whose clear stream laves thy crystal grot: Near its green margin let me dwell,

By all but one dear maid forgot, And bid a world of cares farewell,

Oft let me view thy trembling tide,

Checquer’d with Cynthia's silver light;
What time, in Fancy's train descried,

Before my fascinated sight,
Past Joy's illusive phantoms glide.

Hopeless of happier hours to come,

No more array'd in flattering hues, For me the buds of Pleasure bloom :

Yet deigns, at Fancy's call, the Muse To gild Affliction's deepening gloom. With Lesbia's praise the strain shall glow;

Oh, may she taste each bliss supreme That Hope can paint or Love bestow ;

And calm as Glym's sequester'd stream May her life's gentle current flow !

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