Yes, here your gloomy reign Ends, O long-cherish'd train Of moody thoughts and soul-depressing cares; A myrtle crown, and breathes [prayers. Soft rapturous sighs, fond vows, and tenderest She, she, divinest maid, Blooms, in such charms array'd As opening roses on their sunny beds! On all around delicious influence sheds. But not her smiles alone, Her voice of melting tone, Nor bloom, nor grace my willing heart control; For in her form enshrined Resides the radiant mind That crowns, illumes, and animates the whole. By her beloved, new born More sweet appears, more blue the' expanse above; More verdant seems the vale, And all is gladness, harmony, and love. Now, to my unfilm'd sight, From which I wont disgusted to retire, Once more I feel is dear, Once more my breast can cheer, And ardent hopes and thoughts sublime inspire. Dian, more fair meseems Thou art than when thy beams Saw me retreat in solitude to pine; And ye, aye burning stars, That guide your emerald cars Mid boundless space, with nobler lustre shine. Now, joyous as I rové, Each cool and whispering grove, Not less to bliss than to 'pale passion' dear, Shall bid its feather'd throng Awake a sprightlier song, And pour delight upon my tranced ear. Nor thou, my lyre, that oft, In numbers sweetly soft, Hast plain'd the story of thy master's woes, With ecstasy, shalt lie Now, from thy vocal wires, While love, while beauty fires, My rapid hand shall call, But bid thy boldest harmonies resound. Yes, glowing be the song! Such raptures well belong To him who sings the bless'd Ianthe's praise : And lo! more mildly bright Than Hesper's beamy light She comes, the queen, the glory of my lays. She comes! ye zephyrs bland, Your purple plumes expand; Ye blooming flowers, your balmy breath diffuse; Ye birds, with warbled air, Salute the peerless fair, Sacred to love, to beauty, and the muse. R. A. DAVENPORT. TO SLEEP. THOUGH oft in hours of grief and pain, Yet, once again thy aid imploring, Think not I ask thee to befriend Awhile this breast in anguish sighing: My woes, such feeble force defying, But fly to Lesbia's couch, and there Thy downy pinions lightly spreading, And O thy visions, heavenly bright! The soul from earthly thoughts relieving, Around her spread, propitious sprite! Sweetly her charmed sense deceiving, Till rosy Morn command thy flight. R. A. DAVENPORT. ODE. LET the sons of Lucre pine For glittering heaps of golden ore, To swell the' accumulated store, Contemn the terrors of the mine; Explore the caverns dark and drear, Mantled around with deadly dew; Where congregated vapours blue, Fired by the taper glimmering near, Bid dire explosion the deep realms invade, And earth-born lightnings gleam athwart the' infernal shade. Pride, on thy vesture's purple fold, To meet the forked lightning's flash; Or let his freight secure the surges sweep, And of their prey defraud the monsters of the deep: VOL. III. X My bark the tide of young desire, Shall waft, fair Hope direct the helm, And blast of chill indifference save! Amid ensanguined fields of war, His spectre shapes, a ghastly band: Nor Death his fierce unconquer'd soul can tame, Or from his grasp withhold the glorious meed of Fame. But let me wander far away From the loud drum and neighing steed, Through many a pansie-painted mead, Where Isis' bright-hair'd Naiads stray; High o'er my head a pendent bower Let the broad elm and branching pine With intermingling umbrage twine; There Love's impassion'd song I'll pour, And summon every wave that dances near, Bridling his wanton speed my Lesbia's praise to hear. |