LINES UPON A COUNTRY RESIDENCE. Fatigued with London, and her noisy streets, Their lasting image on the bosom stamp; And fabled spectres soar on Hecate's broom, (Friendship's kind nurse, and fancy's playful guide ;) Call the soft harp melodious strains to breathe, Or crown some "Album" with the laurel wreath. 'Till fair Aurora at the rising dawn, Yokes her fleet coursers to the car of Morn; Life's dull realities" must then appear, While each fond object claims a parting tear. VOL. II. 33 34 LINES UPON A COUNTRY RESIDENCE On hasty wing these visions soon must close, In search of pleasure distant climes explore, The flowers that shed their fragrance thro' the grove, As northern breezes o'er the valley blow. No Springs will brighten, and no Summers burn; Nor mirth and friendship long the bosom thrill ;* Each fleeting moment wisely then employ, In useful duties or convivial joy, "Soles occidere et redire possunt; "Nobis quum semel occidit brevis lux; "Nox est perpetua una dormienda. Catullus. AT THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR. That once elaps'd and slumb'ring in the grave, (Since e'en Creation is ordain'd to fall ;) From vain regrets, and gloomy thoughts abstain, 35 LINES FOR A LADY'S ALBUM; UPON A ROSE, PRESENTED BY HER, WHEN RETURNING FROM THE CHASE. FLED are those colours, as the rainbow bright, Which shone so brilliant at the close of night; Equal to all Arabian valleys grow, All Eastern Poets or romances feign, In sultry Persia's aromatic plain. Tho' trite the maxim-(e'en from childhood known,) And for th' intrusion, folly must atone; Your late fair owner's lovely cheek will fade, And Time's cold hand her tresses must unbraid; LINES FOR A LADY'S ALBUM. 37 She can but reign the idol of a day, And bask in Beauty's evanescent ray ; Swell the gay" cortege" floating with the stream, 'Till age shall dissipate each youthful dream. Yet may she long with dignity and grace, On her fleet Arab join the healthful chase; "Till call'd the reins of future life to guide, Long may she there each winning charm unfold, While friendly guests partake the social fare, 'Till that great hunter, Death's terrific king, To ancient fables now proclaim adieu, |