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Thus canst thou, Rochemont, view this pictured chart,
And trace thy voyage to the promised shore;
Thus does thy faithful bosom beat with joy,

To think the tempest past, the wanderings o'er?

Canst thou recall the days when jealous Doubt,
When boding Fears thy anxious heart oppresst,
When Hope, our star, shone faintly through the gloom,
And the pale cheek betrayed the tortured breast?

And say ;-—the land through Fancy's glass descried,
The bright Elysian fields her pencil drew,-
Has time the dear ideas realized ?

Or are her optics false, her tints untrue ?

O say they are not !—Though life's ceaseless cares,
Life's ceaseless toils demand thy golden hours,
Tell her glad heart whose hand these lines confess,
That Peace resides in Hymen's happy bowers.

But soon the restless seaman longs to change His bounded view and tempt the deeps again ; Careless he breaks from weeping Susan's arms, To fight with billows and to plough the main.

So shalt not thou, for no returning prow

E’er cut the ocean which thy bark has past;

Too strong relentless Fate has fixed her bars,

And I my destined captive hold too fast.



On Stella's brow as lately envious Time
His crooked lines with iron pencil traced,
That brow, erewhile like ivory tablets smooth,
With Love's high trophies hung, and victories graced,

Digging him little caves in every cell,
And every dimple, once where Love was wont to dwell;

He spied the God: and wondered still to spy,
Who higher held his torch in Time's despite ;
Nor seemed to care for aught that he could do.
Then sternly thus he sought him thence to’ affright:

The sovereign boy entrenched in a smile,
At his sour crabbed speech sat mocking all the while.

" What dost thou here, fond boy? Away, for shame!

Mine is this field, by conquest fairly won;
Love cannot reap his joys where Time has ploughed,
Thou and thy light-winged troop should now begone.

Go revel with fresh Youth in scenes of folly,
Sage Thought I bring, and Care, and pale-eyed Melancholy.

Thy streams are froze, that once so briskly ran,
Thy bough is shaken by the mellow year;
Boreas and Zephyr dwell not in one cave,
And swallows spread their wings when winter 's near;

See where Florella's cheeks soft bloom disclose,
Go seek the springing bud, and leave the faded rose.”

Thus spake old Time, of Love the deadliest foe,-
Ah me, that gentle Love such foes should meet!

But nothing daunted he returned again,
Tempering with looks austere his native sweet;

And, “ Fool!” said he, “ to think I e'er shall fly
From that rich palace where my choicest treasures lie.

* Dost thou not see,- -or' art thou blind with

age, How many Graces on her eyelids sit, Linking those viewless chains that bind the soul, And sharpening smooth discourse with pointed wit; How many where she moves attendant wait,

The slow smooth step inspire, or high commanding gait?

“ Each one a several charm around her throws,

Some to attract, some powerful to repell,
Some mix the honeyed speech with winning smiles,
Or call wild Laughter from his antic cell;

Severer some, to strike with awful fear

Each rude licentious tongue that wounds the virtuous ear.

“ Not one of them is of thy scythe in dread,

Or for thy cankered malice careth aught,
Thy shaking fingers never can untwist
The magic cæstus by their cunning wrought ;
And I, their knight, their bidding must obey,

For where the Graces are, will Love for ever stay.

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