Then flow, crystal Trent-whilst a stranger to grandeur, C. S. A MORNING WALK.. WHEN vernal airs, and op'ning flow'rs, At early dawn I musing stray, Ere Phœbus gilds the village spire, And grateful tune the rural lyre.. How sweet, how cool, the passing gale! How clear, how bright, the murmuring stream! What blended sweets adorn the vale, Fresh op'ning to the morning beam ! The swallow, welcome guest! return'd From foreign climes, by instinct led, (Alas! how oft in absence mourn'd), Thrice welcome to my humble shed. : The stock-dove with his pensive note Responsive fills the neighb'ring grove, The blackbird from his mellow throat Pours loud and sweet the song of love. The clam'rous lapwing's plaintive moan, The dew-drops tremble on the thorn, Low in the horizon, behold! The parting clouds his rise proclaim, The sky, now ting'd with beaming gold, Now glowing with a brighter flame. What myriads croud the gladsome beam Where'er I turn, whate'er I see, Oh yes! my soul, awake! arise! Strike loud and full the trembling string, To pay thy early sacrifice To Heaven's ALMIGHTY bounteous KING. Catch, catch, ye gales, the grateful sound, C. S. THE SEAT OF WAR ON A FAN. WITH small, or no propriety, my fair, DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST. THE glories of our birth and state And, in the dust, be equal made Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murm'ring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor victim bleeds: All heads must come To the cold tomb, Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust Percy's Reliques. AN INSCRIPTION. STRANGER, that, with careless feet, Where the fern, in fringed pride, Know, where now thy footsteps pass, If her urn, unknown to fame, Grateful for the tribute paid, |