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15. His cheek, where health with beauty glow'd,
A deadly pale o'ercast:
Before the northern blast.
Hung o'er his dying bed;
And fruitless sorrow shed.
Sweet Mercy yet can move,
What they must ever love!”
18. She came; his cold hand softly touch'd,
And bath'd with many a tear; Fast falling o'er the primrose pale,
So morning dews appear,
19. But, oh! his sister's jealous care
(A cruel sister she) Forbade what Emma came to say:
" My Edwin! live for me."
20. Now homeward as she hopeless wept
The church-yard path along, The blast blew cold, the dark owl scream'd
Her lovers funeral song.
Her startling fancy found
His groan in every sound.
Alone, appalld, thus had she pass’d.
The visionary valeWhen, lo! the death-bell smote her ear,
Sad-sounding in the gale!
23. Just then she reach'd, with trembling step,
Her aged mother's door“ He's gone!" she cry'd; "and I shall sec
That angel-face no more!
24. " I feel, I feel this breaking heart
Beat high against my side" From her wbite arm down sunk her head;
She shivering, sigh’d, and died.
BY MISS CARTER.
O'er nature's soft repose,
Nor ruffling tempest blows.
Now ev'ry passion sinks to rest,
The throbbing heart lies still;
Distract the lab'ring will.
In silence hush'd, to Reason's voice
Attends each mental pow'r; Come, dear Einilia, and enjoy
Reflection's fav'rite hour.
Come; while the peaceful scene invites,
Let's search this ample round; Where shall the lovely fleeting form
Of Happiness be found?
Does it amidst the frolic nirth
Of gay assemblies dwell?
That shades the hermit's cell?
How oft the laughing brow of joy
A sick’ning heart conceals! And through the cloister's deep recess
Invading sorrow steals.
In vain through beauty, fortune, wit,
The fugitive we trace;
That brightens Clodio's face.
Perhaps the joy to these deny’d,
The heart in friendship finds: Ah! dear delusion, gay conceit
Of visionary minds.
Howe'er our varying notions rove,
Yet all agree in one,
At distance from our own.
O blind to each indulgent aim
Of pow'r, supremely wise, Who fancy Happiness in aught
The hand of Heav'n denies!
Vain are alike the joys we seek,
And vain what we possess, Unless harmonious Reason tunes
The passions into peace.
To temper'd wishes, just desires,
Is Happiness confin'd,
The music of the mind.
WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT,
BY THE SAME.
Let coward Guilt, withi pallid Fear,
To shelt'ring caverns fly,
That thunders through the sky.
Protected by that Hand, whose law
The threat'ning storms obey, Intrepid Virtue smiles secure,
As in the blaze of day.
In the thick cloud's tremendous gloom
The lightning's lurid glare, It views the same all-gracious Power
That breathes the vernal air.