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No brazen records kept the crowd in awe,
For innocence supplied the want of law;

No conscious guilt disturbed each peaceful bower,
No fierce tribunal grasped despotick power,
Nor pale Revenge pursued with endless wrath;

But
peace with flowers bestrewed life's rugged path.
The lofty pine, which crowned the mountain's brow,
Where clouds of green around the horizon flow,
Had not yet sought the distant world t' explore ;
Nor heard the ocean's wild tumultuous roar.
Ambition had not yet inflamed mankind,
Within their cots by sweet content confined.
War's ruthless hand had not the rampart raised,
No hostile standards o'er the meadows blazed,
No threatening clarions taught the field to bleed,
Nor brazen horns aroused the martial steed,
No savage sword cut short the vital breath,
Nor glittering helmets braved the approach of death.
In soft delight, far from the din of arms,

The world reposed, secure from all alarms;
No shining share the fertile vallies tore,
Spontaneous earth her rich luxuriance bore;
Divine Content, whose charms ne'er fail to please,
Fed on the fruits, which bent the labouring trees.
The smiling berries, which on mountains glowed,
Or blush beneath the brambles on the road,
The sacred acorn, shaken by the wind,

Supplied the daily wants of all mankind.

Unceasing spring breathed fragrance round their bowers,
And soft Zephyrus fanned spontaneous flowers.

The earth untilled, with smiling fruitage glowed,
And round the fields the yellow harvest flowed.

The heavenly nectar from the skies was showered;
And streams of milk along the meadows poured;
The verdant oak with honey bathed the plain,
And blest Content prolonged the golden reign.

Addressed to Harriot, who presented the author with a bunch of roses, saying, she had preserved them a long while, and that they were the fairest of the

season.

SUCH bounteous flowerets from so fair a hand,
The warmest thanks from Friendship's pen demand;
Ere yet the expanding buds perfumed the air,
Blest with the nurture of thy tender care,

The bloom they copied of celestial grace,

The lovely pictures of thy lovelier face.

Thine are those tints, which charm the admiring eye;
Thine the fair lustre of each fragrant dye.

On the free bounty of thy smile they live,

And to the world their borrowed splendour give.

Thus planets glitter on the robe of night,

And from the sun receive their silver light.

The flower, which blooms beneath the vernal ray,
Owes all its beauty to the orb of day;

For though the lily boasts its spotless form,
Yet Sol's pure lustre gave it every charm.
Thus mildly brilliant those effulgent eyes,
Which bade the fainting rose in bloom to rise,
Which each in Beauty's sky a golden sun,

Claim all those plaudits, which the rose has won.

Then, Rapture, cease on Harriot's gift to gaze,
And, Admiration, hold thy eager praise !
For though e'en Justice this encomium deigns,
That in its charms her faint resemblance reigns,
Yet while her tongue such lavish praise bestows,
In her, in her we view a fairer rose.

VERSES

TO A YOUNG LADY, LATELY RECOVERED FROM SICKNESS.

WITH gloomy clouds of dismal dread,

The horizon sullenly is bound;

The sun, obscured, weeps through the shade;

The zephyrs mourn along the ground,

Where Darkness reigns,

Where Woe's sad strains

Wind o'er the plains.

Vaulted with Terror's sable veil,

Fringed with the sunbeam's glossy hue,

Deep lies the solitary vale,

Where round the grove a rural crew,

In smiling throng,

With sweetest song,
Charm Time along.

Thus seated in the breezy shade,
Before them in the winding vale,
Appeared a sweetly pensive maid,
Whose silence spoke the melting tale
Of one, who trod

From Health's abode,

Misfortune's road.

From her sad eye the tear of grief,
Unknown, gushed silently along;
The swains were moved to her relief,
And Pity wept amid the throng.
They thought their eyes,

Saw, in disguise,

One from the skies.

Lovely, as Morn, who weeps in dews; Mild as the fragrant breath of Even; Though streams of woe her eyes suffuse, She shone the silver queen of heaven. Dian her guide,

Fair Beauty's pride

In sense outvied.

While thus the swains, in rapture's trance,
Her lonely wandering steps surveyed,
Two seraphs on the wing advance,
Contending for the heaven-born maid.
So great the prize,

That e'en the skies
Viewed with surprise!

One of the seraphs thus began:

"My name is Fame; on earth I sway; "The glory, pride, and boast of man,

"The world's proud kings my voice obey.

"From pole to pole,

"My glories roll;

"I rule the whole.

"Long have I made yon fair my pride,

"The brightest gem my crown adorned;

"Her name Oblivion's power defied,

"And all his low attempts has scorned.

"Forbear your claim,

"Ne'er will her name

"Descend from Fame.

"But say, if you can boast to share

"The affections of yon turtle dove,

"Why, with the storms of bleak despair, "Do you afflict her from above?

"To force is vain;

"Where'er I reign,

"No slaves complain."

The angel sent from heaven replied;

"We doom the fair to Mercy's road, "To wean her love from mortal pride, "To bliss supreme in heaven's abode. "To heaven restore,

"A mind too pure

"For earth's wild shore.

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