LXI.

ON A RUINED EDIFICE.

-ANONYMOUS.

I ASK'D of Time, " To whom was rear'd the mass,
"Whose ruins now thou crumblest with the soil?"

He answered not,-but furious shook his glass,
And flew with swifter wing to wider spoil.

I ask'd of Fame, "O thou, whose breath supplies "Life to high works of wonder, what remains ?" Abashed, to earth she bent her mournful eyes,

Like one who, sighing, silently complains.

Lost in amaze, I turn'd my steps aside,

When, o'er each pile, I saw Oblivion stride

With haughty mien, and air of deep design,

"Then thou," I cried, " may'st know! ah, deign

declare !"

Stern did she answer hoarse, while thunder rent the air,

"Whose once it was, seek not; now it is mine!"

SONG.

LXII.

-ANONYMOUS.

WHAT shall I do, to shew how much I love her, Thoughts heavy burden what language can tell? Will my soft passion be able to move her, Speaking so poorly, though loving so well.

Can sighs and tears, in their silence, betoken Half the distress this fond bosom must know? Or will she melt when a true heart is broken,

Weep at my story, yet smile at my woe.

Is there a Grace comes not playful before her,
Is there a virtue, and not in her train?
Is there a swain but delights to adore her,
Pains she a heart, but it boasts of her chain?

Could I believe she'd prevent my undoing,

Life's gayest fancies the hope should renew; Or could I think she'd be pleased with my ruin, Death should persuade her my sorrows are true.

Sure the fair charmer her pride would surrender,
When to be gentle were but to be just;
One tear would drop, and a tribute so tender

Please my sad shade, and give peace to my dust.

LXIII.

TO THE CRUEL LADY OF THE MOUNTAINS.

ANONYMOUS.

AH! why wilt thou not be my love,

Among these wild and pleasant mountains,

From whence the eye untired may rove,

O'er mossy banks and sparkling fountains?

Thy fleeting form I oft have chaced,
O'er craggy rocks thy steps pursuing;
By fancy lured through woods to haste,

While hope beguiled me to my ruin.