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Till æther mingles in one general blaze.
But see from southern climes, with patient flight,
Nor these alone Spring's genial influence prove;
oak in dark brown pomp appears,
* The Mocking-bird,
And midst the sylvan scene of dusky hue
O let me now my wand'ring steps direct
* The tulip. † This passage, respecting the rose, is translated from Cisia
OF DR. JORTIN'S EPITAPH ON HIS CAT.
THE vigour of my days now past,
And sickness úrging sore,
To seek the Stygian shore.
With smiles Proserpine, awful queen,
Thus greets her trembling guest,
Enjoy eternal rest."
But, Empress of this silent shade!
If I deserve thy care,
That while I prompt my master's dream
These words my faith may prove, “ Thee e'en beyond the doleful stream,
Thy faithful cat shall love."
VERSIFICATIONS OF OSSIAN.
OSSIAN'S ADDRESS TO THE SUN.
From the poem of Carthon.
As round as the shield of my fathers in war! Whence, O Sun, are thy beams which illumine the
sky, What sources eternal thy glories prepare?
Thou comest abroad and awakest the day,
In the awful effulgence of majesty drest: At thy presence the dim twinkling stars fade away, Cold and pale sinks the moon in the wave of the
But thou thyself rollest for ever alone:
find, The oaks of the mountains by storms are o’erthrown;
The mountains themselves to decay are consign'd;
The swell of the ocean decreases again;
The moon hides her horn and is dark in the sky; But thou, thou alone, dost unalter'd remain,
For ever rejoicing in glory on high.
When the skies with the loud rattling thunder resound, And the dark low'ring day the fierce tempests de
form, From thy clouds thou look’st forth while thy glory
around Thou sheddest, and smiling deridest the storm.
But Ossian no more shall thy brightness behold,
Vain to him are the splendors thy face which invest, Whether morn on the clouds spreads thy tresses of
gold, Or thy last trembling beam gilds the gates of the
And perhaps thou like me art allotted to die,
The light of thy beams shall ere day be withdrawn, 'Midst thy clouds thou in darkness inglorious shalt
lie, Nor heed the importunate calls of the dawn.
Exult then, 0 Sun, in the strength of thy days;
Dark and cheerless is age as the moon's feeble light, When thro' the black clouds stream her pale gleam
ing rays, And mist wraps the tops of the mountains in night.
When o'er the wide heath the chill north winds blow
strong, Nor aught does the course of their fury restrain; The wandering traveller hastes cheerless along,
And shrinks from the blast in the midst of the plain.