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When Twilight stole across the fading vale,
To fan my Love I'd be the Evening Gale;
Mourn in the soft folds of her swelling vest,
And flutter my faint pinions on her breast!
On Seraph wing I'd float a Dream by night,
To soothe my Love with shadows of delight :--
Or soar aloft to be the Spangled Skies,

And gaze upon her with a thousand eyes!

As when the savage, who his drowsy frame
Had basked beneath the Sun's unclouded flame,
Awakes amid the troubles of the air,

The skyey deluge, and white lightning's glare-
Aghast he scours before the tempest's sweep,
And sad recalls the sunny hour of sleep :-
So tossed by storms along Life's wildering way,
Mine eye reverted views that cloudless day,
When by my native brook I wont to rove,
While Hope with kisses nursed the Infant Love.

Dear native brook like Peace, so placidly
Smoothing through fertile fields thy current meek
Dear native brook! where first young Poesy
Stared wildly-eager in her noontide dream!
Where blameless pleasures dimple Quiet's cheek,
As water-lilies ripple thy slow stream!
Dear native haunts! where Virtue still is gay,
Where Friendship's fix'd star sheds a mellowed ray,
Where Love a crown of thornless Roses wears,
Where softened Sorrow smiles within her tears;
And Memory, with a Vestal's chaste employ,
Unceasing feeds the lambent flame of joy!
No more your sky-larks melting from the sight
Shall thrill the attuned heart-string with delight—
No more shall deck your pensive Pleasures sweet
With wreaths of sober hue my evening seat.
Yet dear to Fancy's eye your varied scene
Of wood, hill, dale, and sparkling brook between !
Yet sweet to Fancy's ear the warbled song,
That soars on Morning's wing your vales among.

Scenes of my Hope! the aching eye you leave Like yon bright hues that paint the clouds of eve Tearful and saddening with the saddened blaze Mine eye the gleam pursues with wistful gaze: Sees shades on shades with deeper tint impend, Till chill and damp the moonless night descend.

THE ROSE.

As late each flower that sweetest blows

I plucked, the Garden's pride!

Within the petals of a Rose

A sleeping Love I spied.

Around his brows a beamy wreath
Of many a lucent hue;

All purple glowed his cheek, beneath,
Inebriate with dew.

I softly seized the unguarded Power,
Nor scared his balmy rest:

And placed him, caged within the flower,
On spotless Sara's breast.

But when unweeting of the guile

Awoke the prisoner sweet,

He struggled to escape awhile

And stamped his faery feet.

Ah! soon the soul-entrancing sight
Subdued the impatient boy!

He gazed! he thrilled with deep delight!

Then clapped his wings for joy.

"And O!" he cried-" of magic kind

What charms this Throne endear!

Some other Love let Venus find

I'll fix my empire here."

THE KISS.

ONE kiss, dear maid! I said and sighed -
Your scorn the little boon denied.

Ah why refuse the blameless bliss?
Can danger lurk within a kiss?
Yon viewless Wanderer of the vale,
The Spirit of the Western Gale,
At Morning's break, at Evening's close
Inhales the sweetness of the Rose,
And hovers o'er the uninjured Bloom
Sighing back the soft perfume.
Vigor to the Zephyr's wing

Her nectar-breathing Kisses fling;
And He the glitter of the Dew
Scatters on the Rose's hue.
Bashful lo! she bends her head,
And darts a blush of deeper Red!

Too well those lovely lips disclose
The triumphs of the opening Rose;
O fair! O graceful! bid them prove
As passive to the breath of Love.
In tender accents, faint and low,
Well-pleased I hear the whispered "No,"
The whispered "No"-how little meant
Sweet Falsehood that endears Consent!
For on those lovely lips the while
Dawns the soft relenting smile,
And tempts with feigned dissuasion coy
The gentle violence of Joy.

TO A YOUNG ASS.

ITS MOTHER BEING TETHERED NEAR IT.

POOR little Foal of an oppressed Race!
I love the languid Patience of thy face;
And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread,
And clap thy ragged Coat, and pat thy head.

But what thy dulled Spirits hath dismayed,
That never thou dost sport along the glade?
And (most unlike the nature of things young)
That earthward still thy moveless head is hung?
Do thy prophetic Fears anticipate,

Meek Child of Misery! thy future fate?

The starving meal, and all the thousand aches

Which patient Merit of the Unworthy takes?"

Or is thy sad heart thrilled with filial pain

To see thy wretched Mother's shortened Chain?
And, truly very piteous is her Lot-

Chained to a Log within a narrow spot,

Where the close-eaten Grass is scarcely seen,

While sweet around her waves the tempting Green!
Poor Ass! thy master should have learnt to show
Pity-best taught by fellowship of Woe!

For much I fear me that He lives like thee,
Half famished in a land of Luxury!

How askingly its footsteps hither bend,

It seems to say, "And have I then one Friend?"
Innocent Foal! thou poor despised Forlorn!
I hail thee Brother-spite of the fool's scorn!
And fain would take thee with me, in the Dell
Of Peace and mild Equality to dwell,
Where Toil shall call the charmer Health his bride,
And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side!

How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play,
And frisk about, as lamb or kitten gay!
Yea! and more musically sweet to me
Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be,
Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest
The aching of pale Fashion's vacant breast!

HAPPINESS.

ON wide, or narrow scale shall Man
Most happily describe life's plan?
Say, shall he bloom and wither there,
Where first his infant buds appear;

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Or upwards dart with soaring force,
And tempt some more ambitious course?
Obedient now to Hope's command,
I bid each humble wish expand,

And fair and bright Life's prospects seem,
While Hope displays her cheering beam,
And Fancy's vivid colorings stream,
While Emulation stands me nigh
The Goddess of the eager eye.

With foot advanc'd and anxious heart
Now for the fancied goal I start :-
Ah! why will Reason intervene
Me and my promised joys between!
She stops my course, she chains my speed
While thus her forceful words proceed.

Ah! listen, youth, ere yet too late,
What evils on thy course may wait!
To bow the head, to bend the knee
A minion of Servility,

At low Pride's frequent frowns to sigh,
And watch the glance in Folly's eye;
To toil intense, yet toil in vain,
And feel with what a hollow pain

Pale Disappointment hangs her head

O'er darling Expectation dead!

"The scene is changed and Fortune's gale

Shall belly out each prosperous sail.

Yet sudden wealth full well I know

Did never Happiness bestow.

That wealth, to which we were not born

Dooms us to sorrow or to scorn.

Behold yon flock which long had trod

O'er the short grass of Devon's sod,
To Lincoln's rank rich meads transferr'd,
And in their fate thy own be fear'd;
Through every limb contagions fly,
Deform'd and chok'd they burst and die.
"When Luxury opens wide her arms,
And smiling woos thee to those charms,