Louisa's lips in kisses meet,

Like a twin-cherry, ripe, and sweet,

In Catharine's breath, rich perfume dwells;
But ah! how Julia's bosom swells,

To charm the gaze of man;

Yet if I praise them, sweet one, know,

They singly but remind me, so

Lips, breath and bosom I can show,
All blent in mistress Anne.

ODE TO THE EVENING STAR.

BY BIDLAKE.

Bright eye of pensive eve! resplendent orb That o'er the misty mountains shinest clear,

Like a rich gem

Upon an Ethiop's brow;

Thy lamp serene my now benighted steps Directs, to that blest spot where dwells my fair, Twin rivals who can boast

More pure, more bright than thee.

For not thy lovely sight, that kindly cheers
The sullen frown of unpropitious night,
Is half so sweet as truth,

That beams in beauty's eyes.

Not all the little waking elves, that rise
From out their noisy bow'rs of velvet buds,
Where they had slept the day,

To dance thy rays beneath,

Feel such delight as does this breast, when thou, With radiant lustre show'st the happy hour, That leads from scenes of care

To still domestic bliss.

ORIGINAL POETRY-FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

Come Inspiration from thy hermit seat

By mortal seldom found; may Fancy dare
From thy fix'd serious eye and raptur'd glance
Shot on surrounding Heaven to steal our look
Creative of the Poet, every power

Exalting to an ecstasy of soul.

THE MANIAC.

LIST to the maniac's moan,

THOMSON.

Who strangely mutters in his lonely cell,

While on the whispering breeze, his plainings swell
In accents broken by the frequent groan!—
Now raving wild!-now sadly musing sits,
In frenzied rage-or calm, by fits,

And oft with fix'd and ideot stare,

Sullenly stands, and mutely courts despair!

Yet, from that darkly shaded eye,

Now lit by maniac ecstasy,

Once the bright flash of genius gleam'd,

Once o'er that face, the smile of gladness play'd,

And the mild light of virtue beam'd;

Once was that form in every charm array'd,

And once upon that forehead shone

The lightning rays which play round Reason's throne!

Still to my view, remembrance faithful gives
The friend I early lov'd, in mind unchanged,
Still in fond memory, B- unaltered lives:→
From intellect-yet not from me estranged.
O! when I view that wreck of talents fair,
That faded form, untenanted by thought,

By sorrow crazed, I'd quit my happier lot,

In all those frenzied bursts of madness fierce, to share!—
Yet for my friend, they bid me not to mourn,
For sense of bliss and pain, at once, are flown,

And vainly are the seeds of misery sown,

They ne'er can sprout to view, till Reason's sun return.

Blest state! when lone Reflection's pangs

No more are felt-perceived

When in a void, the mind all weary hangs,

By no dark thought perplexed, or sad remembrance grieved.

But can these tears, unprompted, flow?

Do they not spring from hidden heartfelt wo?-
O! 'tis a consolation false as weak,

Those streaming, upraised eyes,
That gloom-contracted brow,

The loud and soul alarming shriek!
And all those deep drawn sighs

Tell loudly, that the tortured heart

Oft feels the poisoned barbed dart

Of circling fiends, from Hell's dark realm below
Who ceaseless all, assail, nor aught of rest allow!

Mark that wild unmeaning laugh!

Mix'd of joy, and terror, half

Now smiles, and musing seems;

Perhaps, a visioned glimpse of former days
He catches in his varied dreams,
Perhaps, the forms of friends obscurely pass
Upon his wild and clouded gaze,

"Till the whole scene, as viewed through fairy glass
Promiscuous whirls in one fantastic maze!—

See how he opes his arms, and closely clasps
Some airy form, in rapture to his breast,

Haply, my image 'tis he fondly grasps,

And mine the shade, so warmly there caressed.

O! my lost friend, that for a single hour,

The madd'ning fiends would cease t' exert their power

That softly resting 'gainst my heart,

The balm of friendship might allay the smart

Of woes-which ne'er can cease,

'Till thou enjoy'st in Heaven, perennial peace
But every plaint is vain,

Conscious no more-thy mind's best powers are lost,
Why impious, then, God's just decree arraign,
Why by alternate hope and fear be tost?
Who can the OMNISCIENT's motives fairly scan
Or the fast dictates of his mighty mind
By feeble prayer or wild remonstrance bind:

Then cease presumptuous! from the attempt profane,
Heaven, without cause, hath ne'er afflicted man!

Y.

FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

ON THE POWERS OF FANCY.

COME thou, creative maid, whose magic power,
Imbodies forms enchanting as young May;
And charms the soul in each delicious hour,
When life is pleasant and all nature gay,
And 'round is shed thy mild enlivening ray.
O come! for happy they, who boast thy smile!
Whose dear illusions cheat the passing day:

And can beyond Potosi's wealth beguile

Man's weary steps, as thro' life's gloom he goes the while

Be here, and thy enchantment quick impart

Whether thy lovely form is haply found,

(To prove its influence o'er the thrilling heart,)
* Where Yarrow's waters flow through fairy ground;
Or rather, the more pleasing soothing sound

Of classic streams delight thy raptur'd ear:
While blossoms shed their rich perfumes around,

And woods and lawns and skies more fresh appear,

And nature's charms combine man's wond'ring mind to cheer.

Among the popular superstitions of Scotland, is the belief in the exis tence of spirits residing in rivers, storms, &e.-Never was imagination more fruitful than in that romantic country, from the days of Ossian to the present time→ See Collins's Ode on the Highlands.

For thine, each wint'ry waste, each lonely wild;
Rough ocean's mountain wave, the solemn wood;
The mossy rocks in native grandeur pil'd;
Scenes of the mountain and the roaring flood;
Joys of poetic minds and of the good.

By thee, each scene sublime delights the soul,
And gives that pensive melancholy mood,

While through the panting heart soft raptures roll,

And virtue's joys, with social bliss, our harsher thoughts

control.

When wint'ry snows conceal fair Nature's charms,
And the bleak gale with chilling blast assails,
Thy magic aid the ruthless storm disarms;
Then verdant are the fields and soft the gales,
And the glad mind each blooming beauty hails.
Or if we pant where scorching sunbeams glow,
Where no bless'd shade or cooling breeze prevails,
Imagination gives to tread the trackless snow,
Through leafless woods or on the crackling ice to go.

To thee, the warrior bows, as bold he flies
To meet the invading foe upon the shore:
How warms his patriot heart and fires his eye!
For Fancy tells him they depart no more.
He longs to hear the loud artillery roar,
And meet his daring foeman hand to hand,
And bathe the thirsty weapon in his gore.
For him is held aloft thy wondrous hand
That points to victory for his insulted land.

'Tis she, sweet maid, who charms the lover's eyes,
And pours a heavenly balm o'er all his mind;
Who constant gives the nymph for whom he sighs
With all her virtues and her charms combin'd,

Her looks bewitching and her accents kind.

Still may thou ever sooth his anxious heart,

And he in thee, his lovely mistress find,

Until the sweet confession she impart

And conscious blushes own love's dear congenial smart.