So fings the fwan, her dying notes admir'd, "Mary, dear maid, though ocean rolls between, "The milder rofe-bud, and the jefs'mine fair, "Thy lip, thy modeft blufh, thy fkin of fnow, "And, in the almond brown, thy gloffy hair. "If the tall palm-tree bows beneath the breeze, "Thy eafy fhape waves graceful in my view; "If the fweet blue-bell gliftens through the trees, "Tis Mary's eye, impearl'd with pity's dew." Thus would he fing, till years of tedious toil Sweet competency's meed had well acquir'd; He came full laden with the fpoiler's fpoil, And juft in view of happinefs-expir'd. Ah! what remains to clofe the dire affair? The hand which bruis'd can only give thee peace. THE BRITISH POETICAL MISCELLANY. E HENRY AND ELIZA. LIZA was beyond compare Fair, yet belov'd by every fair, Though nature had each charm combin'd The beauteous maid to grace, And bade the sweetness of her mind Yet fortune, from her earlieft years, of tears, And doom'd her to an age In childhood's helpless state bereft One only fault the maid poffefs'd- Too lavish of efleem. Unvers'd in woes that other's find, But, ah! ere yet the luckless maid Her faith and honour were betray'd- Young Henry, with fuccessful art, Fraught with each soft, refiftlefs charm, Her orphan ftate, her tender years, By honour's dictates unreftrain'd, So poor Eliza's hapless fate Fill'd Henry's breaft with care: Nor could the vain parade of state Protect him from defpair. He saw the beauties once he priz'd All wither in their bloom; For how could injur'd honour look No forrows could afford relief, No penitence atone; The figh fhe gave to other's grief The partners of her youthful years Nor kindly help'd to dry her tears, Her lov'd companions turn'd away, So ever through the world we find Too juft life's guilty joys t' indure, Awhile the Heav'n's forgiveness pray'd And filent funk to reft. Hard fortun'd fex! in every fate, From cuftom's rigid pow'r, Unfkill'd in life's precarious way, In vain they with repentant fighs Say, why, ye virgins, who bestow The pangs alone yourselves may O! rather kindly condefcend To aid the drooping fair, know Your mercy with your juftice blend, Eliza's death when Henry heard, The cenfure of the world he fear'd, In vain he flew to crowds and courts, And damp'd his ev'ning joys. At length, with constant grief o'ercome, There weeping o'er the turf-clad ground, He caft his ftreaming eyes around, Thus warn'd, ye fair, with caution arm Let Hymen's facred bands unite So fhall no rankling cares annoy, So fhall you feel a mother's joy, Without a mother's woe. INSCRIPTION, Engraved on a Marble Table, fixed against the Wall of an Hermitage. THOE'ER thou art these lines now reading, not, though from the world receding, I joy my lonely days to lead in This defart drear, That with remorse a conscience bleeding Hath led me here. |