I fhun the scenes where madd'ning paffion raves,
Where pride and folly high dominion hold;
And unrelenting av'rice drives her flaves
O'er proftrate virtue in pursuit of gold:

The graffy lane, the wood-furrounded field,
The rude ftone fence with fragrant wall-flow'rs gay,
The clay-built cot, to me more pleasure yield
Than all the pomp imperial domes difplay.

And yet ev'n here amid these secret shades,
Thefe fimple scenes of unreprov'd delight,
Affliction's iron hand my breast invades,
And death's dread dart is ever in my fight.

While genial funs to genial fhow'rs fucceed,
(The air all mildness, and the earth all bloom ;)
While herds and flocks range fportive o'er the
mead,

Crop the sweet herb, and snuff the rich perfume.

O why alone to hapless man deny'd,
To taste the bliss inferior beings boast?
O why this fate that fear and pain divide

His few short hours on earth's delightful coaft?
Ah! cease-no more of Providence complain !
'Tis fenfe of guilt that wakes the mind to woe,
Gives force to fear, adds energy to pain,
And palls each joy by heav'n indulged below.

Why

Why elfe the smiling infant-train fo bleft,
Ere dear-bought knowledge ends the

peace within, Or wild defire inflames the youthful breast, Or ill propension ripens into fin?

As to the bleating tenants of the field,
As to the fportive warblers on the trees,
To them their joys fincere the season yields,
And all their days and all their profpects please;

Such joys were mine when from the peopl'd streets,
Where on Thamefis' banks I liv'd immur'd;
The new-blown fields that breath'd a thoufand
fweets,

To Surry's wood-crown'd hills my steps allur'd.

O happy hours, beyond recov'ry fled!

What share I now" that can your lofs repay," While o'er my mind thefe glooms of thought are fpread,

And veil the light of life's meridian ray?

Is there no pow'r this darkness to remove ?
The long-loft joys of Eden to reftore?

Or raife our views to happier feats above,

Where fear, and pain, and death fhall be no more?

Yes,

Yes, those there are who know a Saviour's love, The long-loft joys of Eden can restore;

And raise their views to happier feats above, Where fear, and pain, and death shall be no more,

Those grateful share the gift of nature's hand, And in the vari'd fcenes that round them shine; The fair, the rich, the awful, and the grand, Admire th'amazing workmanship divine.

Blows not a flow'ret in th' enamell'd vale,
Shines not a pebble where the riv'let strays;
Sports not an infect on the spicy gale,

But claims their wonder and excites their praife!

For them ev'n vernal nature looks more gay,
For them more lively hues the fields adorn;
To them more fair the faireft fmile of day,
To them more fweet the fweetest breath of morn.

They feel the blifs that hope and faith fupply, They pass ferene th'appointed hours that bring, The day that wafts them to the realms on high, The day that centres in eternal spring.

DORILACIA;

OR, THE

FAIR CAPTIVE.

AN ANECDOTE OF ANCIENT CHIVALRY.

'N the line of crufadoes every woman was a

IN

beauty, every man was an hero. The virtues. of the female were then unfufpected; the courage of the hero was to be proof against any antagonift, and he was, at the hazard of his life, to evince, that his PRECIEUSE was both more beautiful and more virtuous than any other of the fex. Where is there a knight adventurer now who would undertake either?

Dorilacia, though unfeeking, was fought for by the King of ****. The fame of her personal charms were great; that of her virtues, were ftill greater.-The Prince of **** fued for her: his martial virtues recommended him to the choice of her father. Martial virtues in a man, were, in the time of the crufadoes, of the greatest estimation. She was promifed to the Princebut promises before marriage are generally fruftrated. A parent will frequently fet himself againft the obligation entered into by his daughter. A rival

A rival will fometimes fruftrate the promife, the obligation, by the death of the rival..

Betrothed, as it were, to Prince Rhadamont, Dorilacia was to experience a different fate, a fate unforeseen, a fate too cruel for one who left it to her father to choose her a partner for life.

The object of her father's choice, after the most affectionate adieu, parted from her to encounter the Saracens.

In the interim, the Saracen Prince burft into the facred inclofure wherein fhe was-faw her charms-faw, was inflamed, and was determined to make her his own.

He forced her upon a palfry, and obliged her domeftic, her favourite female to attend her.

Her agitations were great for many a mile. The courtefies of the Saracen were not lefs, which was an unusual phænomenon.

Arriving at a retired place, and finding her ra ther worn out with fatigue, he carried her to the umbrageous retirement of a wood; there he breathed the fofteft vows, the fofteft accents of inflamed

12.