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My bark the tide of young desire,
And blast of chill indifference save!
Nor Danger's horrid front appals ;
But let me wander far away
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
Where the pale lamp’s waning eye
And frequent, as the night grows old,
But o'er my haunts with influence bland
And ecstasy and bliss inspire;
And to the bard the goblet guide;
REV. G. HUDDISFORD.
AMATORY ODE. Now hath the Sun his evanescent fires
Quench'd in the billows of the western main; Cease their soft carols all the feather'd choirs,
And gloomy solitude usurps the plain. Rise, ye deep shades, ye waves in darkness roll,
Ye feather'd choirs, to silence yield the grove, For Lesbia sleeps : nor cheers my pensive soul
The glance of rapture nor the voice of love. Ye winds, whose havoc-spreading pinions ply
Their furious speed, and with dire yell invade This nether world, whose wasteful tyranny
Pale Dryads mourn in many a ruin'd shade; Wake not my love :-Let not your thundering cry
With dread alarm the haunt of peace infest; Here breathe in soft Æolian melody
Each cadence sweet that charms the soul to rest. Ye spectres (whom belated pilgrims fear,
Issuing in throngs from charnel, vault, or tomb, What time deep shadowing clouds thy radiant
sphere, Cynthia, involve in night's meridian gloom), Hence to deserted fane or mouldering hall,
Or the gaunt felon's ruthless course control; With monitory shriek the wretch appal,
And to compunction wake his torpid soul. But walk not near the couch were Lesbia lies
Like some rich pearl in its enamel'd shell, Or sainted relic, from profaner eyes
Secluded in the dim shrine's silver cell.
Wanton, ye fairies, round her tranquil bower,
With blissful elves fantastic measures tread ; O’er her soft eyelids dews of opiate pour, Culld from choice blooms, in showers of fra
grance shed : Let your bright tapers' visionary ray
The raven-tinctured robe of Night illume; And, streaming o'er your spangled crests, display
The wave-enamour'd halcyon's emerald plume. And bid your minstrel fays, a shadowy choir, That charm the planets from their spheres sub
lime, Celestial songs, that love and joy inspire,
Chant to their golden harps' harmonious chime. And when morn's purple streaks the'horizon stain,
And fairies fly the peal of Chanticleer, Let Fancy still your glittering hues retain,
Still let your wild notes tremble on her ear. Then, Lesbia, wake thy beauties, fresher far
Than Galatea boasted when she laved In the smooth deep her coral-axled car,
And the stern heart of Neptune's son enslaved. Wake at his call, to soothe whose soul in vain
Morn sheds her radiant beam, her odorous airs, Save when, attentive to his artless strain,
That radiant beam, those odours Lesbia shares. He asks no laureate wreath to deck his brows,
No golden meed his bounded wishes claim, Bless'd if the object of his tenderest vows Smile on his lay-for Lesbia’s smile is fame.
THE NAIAD OF GLYMPTON BROOK.
NAIAD, unseen of mortal eyes,
Whose light steps haunt this current lone, Where gentle Zephyr's balmy sighs,
With thy wild wave in unison, Blend their aerial melodies;
Let me to thy deserted shades
Reveal the never dying flame That all my pensive soul pervades,
And teach thine echoes Lesbia's name Ere the soft light of evening fades !
Unheard, unnoticed, let me rove
Thy trembling osier wreaths among,
Affection's unambitious song,
There, when the Day's dim eyelids close,
Hide me within some shadowy cave;
Oh, softly bid thy babbling wave
No angler's cruel arts are mine,
Ye timid tenants of the brook! Wrought by my hand no viewless line,
Disguised by me no treacherous hook Bids you your little lives resign.