EPITHALAMIUM. HOW fair, how sweet the blushing rose! By many a soft descending shower Sheds fragrance o'er its tender head. So fair, so sweet, the youthful maid, That blushing cheek, love-darting eye, Then, lover, seize the present hour That views them yet in all their prime, Ere winter nip the blooming flow'r, And youth and beauty yield to time. M THE GRAVEYARD. SLOW waves the willow o'er the stone That points where sleeps a mother dear; Oft have I sought the spot alone To shed at ease the filial tear. There too a brother's ashes lie; Where waves the willow o'er the stone. Slow waves the willow o'er the stone; *Horatio Clarke. These scenes affection oft shall view, And pay the debt to memory due; Oft bid me seek at eve alone The willow waving o'er the stone. THE SAILOR'S DEPARTURE. A SONG. [Tune-" The topsails shiver in the wind."-] THE rising gale forbids my stay— For I must tempt the salt sea-spray, Or 'mid the battle be laid low, But though the storm may rouse the main, Sweet memory, rising to my aid, And bid thy charms, enchanting maid, Maria! meet my view: Those charms that did my heart beguile, While doating on thy angel smile. Full often when the morning sun Full often while the setting moon The wand'ring gales that sweep the sea But why, thy beauties all to show, Which round the lone path where I go And wakens from their transient rest For though no dangers I may fear Perhaps I ne'er shall see again. Then, lest too high my fond heart swell, I'll strive to think no moreFarewel, my sweetest girl, farewel! Farewel my native shore! Farewel each thought I hold most dear! Farewel to hope! Farewel to fear. |