That very law which moulds a tear,
And bids it trickle from its fource,
That law preferves the earth a sphere,

And guides the Planets in their course,

LINES TO HIM WHO WILL UNDERSTAND THEM.

T

[From Mrs. Robinfon's Poems.]

HOU art no more my bofom's friend ;
Here must the sweet delufion end,
That charm'd my fenfes many a year,
Thro' fmiling fummers, winters drear.-
O, Friendship! am I doom'd to find
Thout art a phanton of the mind?
A glit'ring fhade, an empty name,
An air-born vifion's vap'rifh flame?
And yet, the dear deceit fo long
Has wak'd to joy my matin fong,
Has bid my tears forget to flow,
Chas'd ev'ry pain, footh'd ev'ry woe;
That truth, unwelcome to my ear,
Swells the deep figh, recalls the tear,
Gives to the fenfe the keeneft smart,
Checks the warm pulfes of the heart,
Darkens fate and fteals away
Each gleam of joy thro' life's fad day.

my

Britain, farewel! I quit thy fhore,
My native country charms no more;
No guide to mark the toilfome road;
No deftin'd climes; no fix'd abode;
Alone and fad, ordain'd to trace
The vaft expanfe of endlefs fpace;
To view, upon the mountain's height,
Thro' varied fhades of glimm'ring light,
The diftant landscape fade away
In the last gleam of parting day :-
Or, on the quiv'ring lucid stream,
To watch the pale moon's filv'ry beam;
Or when, in fad and plaintive trains
The mournful Philomel complains,
In dulcet notes bewails her fate,
And murmurs for her abfent mate;
Infpir'd by Sympathy divine,
I'll weep her wots-for they are mine.
Driven by my fate, where'er I go,
O'er burning plains, o'er hills of fnow

The law of Gravitation.

T

Or on the bofom of the wave,
The howling tempeft doom'd to brave,
Where'er my lonely course I bend,
Thy image fhall my fteps attend;
Each object I am doom'd to fee,
Shall bid remembrance picture Thee.

Yes; I fhall view thee in each flow'r,
That changes with the tranfient hour:
Thy wand'ring Fancy I fhall find
Borne on the wings of every wind;
Thy wild impetuous paffions trace
O'er the white wave's tempeftuous space :
In every changing season prove
An emblem of thy wav'ring love.

Torn from my country, friends, and you,
The world lies open to my view;
New objects fhalf my mind engage;
I will explore th' hiftoric page;
Sweet poetry fhail foothe my foul;
Philofophy each pang controul :
The Mufe I'll feek, her lambent fire
My foul's quick fenfes fhall infpire;
With finer nerves my heart shall beat,
Touch'd by Heaven's own Promethean heat;
Italia's gales fhall bear my fong

In foft-link'd notes her woods among;

Upon the blue hill's mifty fide,

Thro' trackless defarts waste and wide,

O'er craggy rocks, whofe torrents flow
Upon the filver fands below.
Sweet land of melody! 'tis thine
The fofteft paffions to refine;

Thy myrtle groves, thy melting strains,
Shall harmonize and footh my pains.
Nor will I caft one thought behind,
On foes relentlefs, friends unkind;
I feel, I feel their poifon'd dart
Pierce the life-nerve within my heart;
'Tis mingled with the vital heat,
That bids my throbbing pulfes beat;

Soon fhall that vital heat be o'er,

Those throbbing pulfes beat no more!

No-I will breath the spicy gale;

Plunge the clear ftream, new health exhale;

O'er my pale cheek diffuse the rose,

And drink Oblivion to my woes.

ODE

ODE TO HEALTH.

[From the fame Work.]

NOME, bright-eye maid,

Pure offspring of the tranquil mind,

Hafte, my fev'rifh temples bind
With olive wreaths of em'rald hue.
Steep'd in morn's ethereal dew,
Where in mild Helvetia's fhade,
Blushing fummer round her flings

Warm gales and funny fhow'rs that hang upon her wings.

I'll feek thee in Italia's bow'rs,
Where fupine on beds of flow'rs
Melody's foul touching throng

Strike the foft lute or trill the melting fong:
Where blith Fancy, queen of pleasure,

Pours each rich luxuriant treasure.

For thee I'll climb the breezy hill,
While the balmy dews diftill
Odours from the budding thorn.
Drop'd from the luft'rous lids of morn ;
Who, ftarting from her fad wy bed,
Binds her gold fillet round the mountain's head,

There I'll prefs from herds and flow'rs
Juices blefs'd with opiate powers,

Whofe magic potency can heal

The throb of agonizing pain,

And thro' the purple fwelling vein
With fubtle influence steal: .

Heaven opes for thee its aromatic store
To bathe each languid gafping pore;
But where, O where, fhall cherish'd sorrow find
The lenient balm to footh the feeling mind.

O, mem'ry! bufy barb'rous foe,
At thy fell touch wake to woe:
Alas! the flatt'ring dream is o'er,
From thee the bright illufions fly,
Thou bids the glitt'ring phantoms die,

And hope, and youth, and fancy, charm no more,

No more for me the tip-toe fpring
Drops flowrets from her infant wing;
For me in vain the wild thymes bloom
Thro' the foreft flings perfume;

In vain I climb th' embroider'd hill
To breath the clear autumnal air;
In vain I quaff the lucid rill
Since jocund health delights not there

To

To greet my heart: -no more I view,
With sparkling eye, the filv'ry dew
Sprinkling May's tears upon the folded rose,
As low it droops its young and blushing head,
Prefs'd by grey twilight to its moffy bed:
No more I lave amidst the tide,

Or bound along the tufted grove,
Or o'er enamel'd meadows rove,
Where, on Zephyr's pinions, glide
Salubrious airs that waft the nymph repofe.

Lightly o'er the yellow heath

Steals thy foft and fragrant breath,
Breath inhal'd from mufky flow'rs
Newly bath'd in perfum'd fhow'rs.
See the rofy-finger'd morn
Opes her bright refulgent eye,
Hills and valleys to adorn,

While from her burning glance the scatter'd vapours fly.

Soon, ah foon! the painted fcene,
The hill's blue top, the valley's green,

Midft clouds of fnow, and whirlwinds drear,

Shall cold and comfortless appear :›

The howling blast shall strip the plain,

And bid my penfive bofom learn,
Tho' Nature's face fhall fmile again,
And, on the glowing breast of fpring
Creation all her gems fhall fling,
Youth's April morn shall ne'er return.

Then come, Oh quickly come, Hygeian maid!
Each throbbing pulfe, each quiv'ring nerve pervade.
Flash thy bright fires across my languid eye,
Tint my pale visage with thy rofeate die,
Bid my heart's current own a temp'rate glow,

And from its crimson fource in tepid-channels flow.

g

O Health, celeftial nymph! without thy aid
Creation fickens in oblivion's fhade:
Along the drear and folitary gloom
We fteal on thorny footfteps to the tomb;
Youth, age, wealth, proverty, alike agree
To live is anguifh, when depriv'd of thee.
To thee indulgent Heav'n benignly gave
The touch to heal, the extacy to save.
The balmy incenfe of thy foft'ring breath
Wafts the wan victim from the fangs of death,
Robs the grim tyrant of his trembling prize,
Cheers the faint foul, and lifts it to the skies,

Let not the gentle rofe thy bounty dreft
To meet the rifing fun with od'rous breaft,
Which glow'd with artless tints at noon-tide hour,
And shed soft tears upon each drooping flower,
With with'ring anguish mourn the parting day,
Shrink to the earth, and forrowing fade away.

SUBJECTS for PAINTERS, from SHAKSPEARE'S TEMPEST. [From the Shakspeare Gallery, by Mr. Jerningham.]

OW, at the magic painter's wild command,
Girt with the fea, ascends th' enchanted land!
There ftands Simplicity's endearing child +,
That artless maid! the flow'ret of the wild!
Befide the margin of the wave-vex'd shore,
While all around conflicting thunders roar,
With unbound treffes, flutt'ring to the wind,
Her eye expreflive of her tortur'd mind,
She views the veffel, by the furges toft,

Now feen-now loft-now found-now once more loft:
Till, madly rushing on the pointed rock,
Its bofom riven with the forceful shock,
Beyond the stretch of naval art to fave,
Down, down, it hurries to the watery grave!

Now Profpero comes, with magic arts endu'd,
His fable garb with hieroglyphics ftrew'd;
Long care, long ftudy, folitude profound,
Has deepen'd on his brow reflection's wound;
-His long-defcending hair, o'er blanch'd with age,
Becomes the forc'rer, and adorns the fage:
Ah! view him at that dread, momentous hour,
While he abjures his necromantic pow'r !
Within the ring of Incantation's ground,
Elves, fairies, fpits, demons, flock around:
Beneath his foot behold the potent_wand,
Doom'd ne'er again to grace his lifted hand!
Behold the volume, which (with myft'ry fraught)
Predeftination's darkling edicts taught,

And breath'd its folemn whispers on the mind,
With duft o'erfpread, and to neglect confign'd!
Yet then the distant scenery imparts

A dire remembrance of his former arts:
The bright fun fading in his full career,
The wild ftars madly starting from their fphere,
The storm encumber'd fky, the fwelling main,
Th' uprooted cedars ftretching o'er the plain,