There fleeps the bard, whofe tuneful tongue
Pour'd the full ftream of mazy song.
Young fpring, with lip of ruby, here
Showers from her lap the blushing year;
While along the turf reclin'd,
The loofe wing fwimming on the wind,
The loves with forward gefture bold,
Sprinkle the fod with fpangling gold;
And oft the blue-eyed graces trim
Dance lightly round on downy limb;
Oft too, when eve demure and still
Chequers the green dale's purling rill,
Sweet fancy pours the plaintive ftrain,
Or wrapt in foothing dream,

By Avon's ruffled ftream,

Hears the low-murmuring gale that dies along the plain.

LAURA: OR, THE COMPLAINT.

Y

AN ELEGY.

BY JAMES MARRIOT, L. L. D.

E groves, with venerable mofs array'd,

That o'er yon caverns ftretch your pendent shade,

Where facred filence lulls the rural vale,

And love in whispers tells his tender tale;

Ye lonely rocks, ye ftreams that ever flow,
Still as my tears, and conftant as my woe,

Το

To
you

behoid the wretched Laura flies,'.
And haunts those seats from whence her. sorrows rise;
Where, lost to love, how often has the stray'd ?
When the fond lover led his blushing maid,
When his soft lips, too eloquent his art,
Pour'd the warm with, and breath'd out all his heart.

Ah, once lov’d seats ! your pleasing scenes are o’er,
Nor can you charm, since he can love no more;
Though smile your lawns with vernal glories crown'd,
In vain gay nature paints th' enameld ground;
While through your folitary paths I rove,
A prey to grief, to fickness, and to love.
Tho' gentle zephyrs fan the bending bow'rs,
Tho' breathes the incense of your op'ning flowers,
Nor op'ning flowers, nor gentle zephyrs charm,
Nor beauteous scenes a grief like mine disarm;
Fade ev'ry flower, and languish ev'ry sense,
Ye have no sweets for fall’n innocence.

Torn by remorse, fad victim of despair,
Where shall I turn? or where address my prayer?
Far as the morn its early beam displays,
Or where the star of ev’ning darts its rays; .
Far as wide earth is stretch'd, or oceans roll,
Where blow the winds, or heav'n invests the pole,
In vain my flutt'ring foul would wing its way ;
Stern care pursues, where'er the wretched stray.

Soft God of sleep, whose ever-peaceful reign
Lulls earth, and heav'n, and all th' extended main,
Pow'rful to give the lab'ring heart to reft,
To wipe the tear, and heal the wounded breast,

Say, by what crime offended, flies from me,
Invek'd, thy unpropitious deity?

Or dooms, on racks of wildeft fancy torn,
In dreams my agonizing foul to mourn?
Why am I oft on angry billows toft,
Now in fome wide and dreary defart loft?
Why yet in life infernal tortures feel,
Bound by fierce demons to fome rapid wheel?
Now feem to climb, while hills on hills arife,
In vain or fall in tempefts from the skies,
Tread burning plains, or fwim in seas of fire,
Juft reach the shore, then fee the shore retire?
As oft, dear youth! thy pleafing form appears;
I ftretch my arms, and wake diffolv'd in tears;
Yet waking fancy all that lofs fupplies,

And still I view thee with a lover's eyes;
Entranc'd, in thought, o'er all thy charms I gaze,
See thy bright eyes diffuse their softeft rays,
Hang on thy hand, or on thy breast reclin'd,
Play with thy locks that waver with the wind,
Joy in thy joy, or in thy forrows join,
And on thy lips my fpirit mix with thine,

Now o'er dark wilds, or rugged rocks we stray,

Love lights the gloom, and smooths the dreary way;

Now on foft banks our weary limbs repose,
Where ev'ry flower of vernal beauty glows;
But light as air each pleafing vision flew,
Swift as the fun difpels the morning dew;
While with the day returns the sense of woe,

We wake more wretched when the cheat we know.

Imagination!

Imagination! miftrefs of the foul,

What powers unfeen the active mind controul;
And fill the waking thought, or busy sleep?
When not a breeze disturbs the tranquil deep,
Nor lofty pines through all the foreft move,
Why ftir the motions of refiftless love?

Urg'd by the golden morn the night recedes,
And year to year in changeful courfe fucceeds;
Nor night, nor morn, nor years, to me restore
The peace which Laura's heart poffefs'd before;
Involv'd in clouds one darkfome fcene I view ;
Bleed the fame wounds, and all my pains renew.

O boaft of Laura's long forgotten praise !
Paft are the triumphs of my happier days,
When plac'd fupreme on beauty's radiant throne,
I faw with conscious pride each heart my own;
Where'er I turn'd a thousand nymphs admir'd;
Whene'er I fmil'd a thousand fwains expir'd:
I fpoke, 'twas mufic dwelt upon my tongue;
I mov'd a goddess, and an angel fung.
My careless steps in joys were taught to rove;
Each voice was flatt'ry, and each look was love;
But beauty's power, too mighty long to last,
Fled on the wings of rapid time, is paft.

As fome proud veffel to the profperous gale
Her streamer waves, and spreads the filken fail,
While filver oars to flutes foft breathing sweep
With meafur'd ftrokes the scarcely heaving deep,
But foon tempeftuous clouds the scene deform,
And the loud furge remurmurs to the storm:

Thus

Thus big with hope, from dark fufpicion free,
I fail'd with transport on life's fummer fea;
The gay attendants of my happy state,

The fmiles, the graces 'round were seen to wait,
And all the moments, as they swiftly flew,
Show'r'd down foft joy, and pleasures ever new.
How chang'd this fleeting image of a day!
How fets in awful gloom the ev'ning ray!
While, fixt on earth her eye in sad suspence,
Pours the deep figh, inceffant penitence.

If youthful charms decay with age or pain,
Beauty, thy crowded worshippers how vain!
Why then fuch crowds of incenfe round afcend?
Why proftrate monarchs at thy altars bend?
Why earth's and ocean's mighty bounds explore
At once to win thee, and increase thy pow'r?
Let fad example reafon's dictates aid;
Here fee what ruin grief and love have made;
E'en love, who lives by beauty's fmiles careft,
Balks in her eyes, and wantons on her breast,
With cruel force the fatal fhaft employs,
And fooneft what he most adores deftroys.

How cold I feel life's idle current flow,
Where once the dancing fpirits lov'd to glow!
No more these eyes with youthful rapture shine,
Nor cheeks, foft blufhing, fpeak a warmth divine;
Graceful no more amid the feftive dance

My steps with easy dignity advance,

And all the gloffy locks, whofe ringlets spread
O'er my fair neck, the honours of my head,

Ceafe