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And bright, inspiring dreams impart;
Swift to reward a Parent's fears,
Yet, though thou draw a nation's eyes,
No rival weave the secret snare :
For Innocence with angel smile,
When winds the mountain oak assail,
Ye proud, ye selfish, ye severe,
And hear the voice of artless praise ;
RIGHT HON. LADY CHARLOTTE GORDON,
Dressed in a Tartan Scotch Bonnet with Plumes, &c. Why, Lady, wilt thou bind thy lovely brow With the dread semblance of that warlike helm, That nodding plume, and wreathe of various glow, That graced the chiefs of Scotia's ancient realm?
Thou knowest that virtue is of power the source,
The plumy helmet, and the martial mien,
At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still,
“ Ah why, all abandon'd to darkness and wo,
For Spring shall return, and a lover bestow, “ And Sorrow no longer thy bosom inthral. “ But, if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay, “ Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn; “ O soothe him, whose pleasures like thine pass away: “ Full quickly they pass....but they never return.
“ Now gliding remote, on the verge of the sky, « The Moon half extinguish'd her crescent displays: “ But lately I mark'd, when majestic on high “ She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze. “ Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue “ The path that conducts thee to splendor again. “ But Man’s faded glory what change shall renew! “ Ah fool! to exult in a glory so vain!
“ 'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more; “ I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; “ For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, “ Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew. “ Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn; 6 Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save. “ But when shall Spring visit the mouldering urn! 6 () when shall it dawn on the night of the grave!"
• ’T was thus, by the glare of false Science betray'd, • That leads to bewilder; and dazzles, to blind ;
My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade, • Destruction before me, and sorrow behind.