And is such thought for ever now bereft?
Say, hast thou felt an ardent flame

Which not eternity could tame,

And are its joys expir'd, and all its vigour left?

XI.

Has fancy to thy madden'd gaze
Display'd th' elysian dells of bliss?
Say, did her secret wonders raise

A wish for happier worlds than this?
And is the wanton faery flown,

And left thee chill'd to conscious stone,
At this cold prospect of unmeaning care?
And is Hope's lustre fled afar,

Nor haply from her pilot star Gleams one congenial ray, repellent of despair?

XII.

Is it that thou didst love mankind
With ardour warm as angels feel;
And did they spurn thy generous mind,
And wanton wound-nor wish to heal?

-If causes dark as these have wrought The puzzling wreck of splendid thought,

I weep!-and meekly turn from this low earth; Yet sometimes muse, why miscreants

bloom,

While Sorrow's bleak untimely gloom

Blights, ere his powers expand, the trembling child of Worth!

LINES

ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT.

THE fluttering gale has sunk to rest,
The sloping sun-beams feebly glow,
Such zephyrs breathe as sooth the breast,
Such radiance pours as softens woe.

The languid notes of lonesome bird,
From yonder coppice sweetly wind;
And thro' the scene are faintly heard
Sounds that are silence to the mind.

As slow my devious feet advance
Thro' Eve's unrealizing gloom,
Mine eyes peruse with eager glance
An Infant's solitary tomb.

"Tis simple! yet the green sod here
That seems to court no stranger's eye,

Than marble claims a tenderer tear,
Than sculpture moves a softer sigh!

1795.

A lonely primrose lifts its head,

And here and there pale violets peep; And, if no venal tears are shed,

The dews from many a daisy weep.

And Pity here is often seen

To prompt the nameless pilgrim's sighs, For Pity loves to haunt the scene Where Grief is stript of Art's disguise.

I mark'd the spot!-and felt my soul
Enwrapp'd in Sorrow's softest mood;
The pensive shade that o'er me stole,
It could not lightly be withstood.

I mark'd the spot-and thought how soon Each earthly blessing is resign'd!

E'en then I saw life's dearest boon Consign'd to dust-to death consign'd

And while a parent's hopes and fears,
To fabling Fancy forceful swell;
And while a parent's anxious tears,-
These accents negligently fell:-

"Thou little tenant of the grave,

"Sleep on, untouch'd by mortal strife, "Unknown the cares that man must brave, "The ills, that only end with life!

"Of eager hope, unconscious thou,
"Unconscious thou of grief's extreme:
"To thee an everlasting now!

"To thee-a sleep without a dream!

"Sleep on, poor child!- -a fellow worm,
"Who's prov'd for thee life's joy and care,
"Would fain forego the useless term,

"He's tasted life and death's his

prayer.

"To thee, poor child! ere grief is brought
"To vex thy soul, oblivion's given !
"Oh! if the grave could boast of thought,
"That thought would make the grave-
"heaven!"

Farewell, sweet spot! my soul I feel
Entranc'd in sorrow's softest mood;
These pensive shades that o'er me steal,
They shall not lightly be withstood.

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