With all thy smiles, And witching wiles, [defiles. Yet not unfrequent bitterness thy mournful sway V. The drowsy night-watch has forgot Lull'd by the winds he slumbers deep, And restless lie, With unclosed eye, And count the tedious hours as slow they minute by. GENIUS. AN ODE. I. 1. MANY there be, who, through the vale of life, By them unheeded, carking Care, With even tenor and with equal breath, Alike through cloudy and through sunny day, Then sink in peace to death. II. 1. But, ah! a few there be whom griefs devour, And self-consuming Spleen. And these are Genius' favourites: these To realms where Fancy's golden orbits roll, III. 1. Genius, from thy starry throne, Oh! hear the plaint by thy sad favourite made, He tells of scorn, he tells of broken vows, Of sleepless nights, of anguish-ridden days, Pangs that his sensibility uprouse To curse his being and his thirst for praise. Thou gav'st to him with treble force to feel The sting of keen neglect, the rich man's scorn; And what o'er all does in his soul preside Predominant, and tempers him to steel, His high indignant pride. I. 2. Lament not ye, who humbly steal through life, For him awaits no balmy sleep, He wakes all night, and wakes to weep; Or by his lonely lamp he sits At solemn midnight when the peasant sleeps In feverish study, and in moody fits His mournful vigils keeps. II. 2. And, oh! for what consumes the watchful oil? For what does thus he waste life's fleeting breath? 'Tis for neglect and penury he doth toil, "Tis for untimely death. Lo! where dejected pale he lies, Despair depicted in his eyes, He feels the vital flame decrease, He sees the grave wide yawning for its prey, Without a friend to sooth his soul to peace And cheer the expiring ray. III. 2. By Sulmo's bard of mournful fame, By him, the youth, who smiled at death, For still to misery closely thou'rt allied, What though to thee the dazzled millions bow, Corroding Anguish, soul-subduing Pain, Yes, Genius, thee a thousand cares await, Thee chill Adversity will still attend, Before whose face flies fast the summer's friend, While leaden Ignorance rears her head and laughs, With bee-eyed Wisdom, Genius derides, FRAGMENT OF AN ODE TO THE MOON. I. MILD orb, who floatest through the realm of night, A pathless wanderer o'er a lonely wild, Welcome to me thy soft and pensive light, Which oft in childhood my lone thoughts beguiled. Now doubly dear as o'er my silent seat, It casts a mournful melancholy gleam, And through my lofty casement weaves, II. These feverish dews that on my temples hang, Come, kindred mourner, in my breast And breathe the soul of peace; Mild visitor, I feel thee here, it is not pain that brings this tear, Oh! many a year has pass'd away When wilt thou, Time, those days restore, When on the lake's damp marge I lay, And mark'd the northern meteor's dance, Twin sisters, faintly now ye deign And art thou fled, thou welcome orb? So swiftly pleasure flies; So to mankind, in darkness lost, The beam of ardour dies. Wan Moon, thy nightly task is done, But I, in vain, on thorny bed FRAGMENT. LOUD rage the winds without.-The wintry cloud What merry groups of vacant faces crowd; These bail his coming-these his meal prepare, |