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IN VERSE.

ON THE NEW YEAR.

(NOT NINE YEARS OLD.)

1792.

THE

year that's past, irrevocably past,

By God's impartial will, may be our last : Let every sinner gracious help implore, To live in virtue, and to sin no more.

Let true repentance in our hearts be fix'd, Nor with an unforgiving temper mix'd;

Then shall we tread that estimable road Which leads to eternal happiness and God.

B

TO HIS MOTHER.

1798.

THOU dearest object of my earliest love,

Whom Nature's voice first taught me to adore, Ere rising Reason's mandate could approve,

What Heaven-taught Instinct had inspired before;

O what a race my weary feet have run,

Since last thy image met my wishful eye;

Then waft me hence, thou quick revolving sun,
To that lov'd region of eternal joy.

For where can man in Heaven's high realms beside,
Heart-soothing peace and gentle pleasure find;
If senseless Apathy in Stoick pride,

Constrain each nobler feeling of the mind?

'Tis warm Affection's links that mildly join In sacred sympathy each kindred soul, When rich with mercies from the hand divine,

Days, months, and years in blissful silence roll.

Such were the hours that once in rapture flew,
While every day increase of bliss supplied;
With every hour some sweeter pleasure grew,
Each wish prevented, and each want untried.

Yet, e'en while Freedom spread her charms around, While laugh'd the morn, and every joy was mine, Could fancied sorrows real pleasures wound,

And passion thwart reflection's cool design.

Fool that I was-full oft I vow'd in vain,

To rule my life with Reason's sober sway; Till headstrong Passion snatch'd the slacken'd rein, And chas'd Reflection's milder power away.

Then when o'erwhelm'd I lay with fancied woe,
Thy present image cheer'd the darkling scene;
Methinks e'en now thy gentle dictates flow,

Queen of each thought, of each affection queen.

For thou art all that Heaven itself could form,
The noblest soul, and meekest spirit join'd;
Nor Fortune's dream, nor Fate's o'erwhelming storm,
Can change th' unalter'd tenor of thy mind.

O yet while Youth smiles in its earliest prime,
This ruffian Soul with meekest thoughts inspire,
Thoughts like thine own; e'er the rude hand of Time
Light every spark, and fan the rising fire.

While thus entranc'd I sooth'd each wishful care,
With silent Meditation's gentle power,

Slow sunk the sun, while pour'd on Night's dull ear,
These awful dictates charm'd the sacred hour:

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Say why, my son, thus pensive and alone,

"Does thy sad heart with fancied sorrows mourn; "Think'st thou these childish sighs, this abject groan,

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"Can bid the scenes of former bliss return?

Know then, that years on hasty pinions fly,

"Not pleasure's poison can their force destroy, "Silent we steal thro' life, are born and die,

"Catch fancied bliss, and taste unreal joy.

"But oh! how wretched he, whose infant heart

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No mother's tender precepts e'er refin'd; "To him no joys can Love's sweet balm impart, "Or soft Affection sooth his tortur'd mind.

"Go then, to Heaven thy pure devotions pay,

"Go sooth thy mother's soul with filial zeal, "Tear from her heart each anxious care away,

"Feel what you are, and dare be what you feel."

ON THE GENIUS OF SHAKSPEARE.

A SCHOOL EXERCISE.

YE fields, where yet in sunny pride,
The limpid streams of Avon glide;

How oft, your vocal banks along,
Has swell'd the rapture-darting song,
While Shakspeare pour'd the swelling strain,
And Echo sooth'd the list'ning plain!
Again, ye fairy phantoms, rise

In mystic visions to my eyes;
Again, again appear, ye airy throng;

See where the scenic sisters glide along!

First comes blithe Comedy with jovial air,
Gaily she flings her loose robe round,

Lightly swimming o'er the ground;

To their lov'd Queen the sportive Nymphs repair
Wit, Humour, Fancy, Whim, around her move,
Now swell the soul with joy, now melt with love.
Mirth roars aloud, as reeling o'er the plain
In Falstaff's form he leads the jocund train.

Hark! the glad woods with songs resound! * Echoes the sylvan scene around;

"As you like it."

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