TO A FRIEND.

MAY never more of pensive melancholy
Within thy heart, beneath thy roof appear,
Than just to break the charm of idle folly,
And prompt for others' woes the melting tear;
No more than just that tender gloom to spread
Where thy beloved Muses wont to stray,

To lift the thought from this low earthy bed,
Or bid hope languish for a brighter day;

And deeper sink within thy feeling heart

Love's pleasing wounds, or friendship's polished dart!

DEJECTION.

WHEN sickness clouds the languid eye,

And seeds of sharp diseases fly

Swift through the vital frame;

Rich drugs are torn from earth and sea, And balsam drops from every tree,

To quench the parching flame.

But oh! what opiate can assuage

The throbbing breast's tumultuous rage,

Which mingling passions tear!

What art the wounds of grief can bind,

Or soothe the sick impatient mind

Beneath corroding care!

Not all the potent herbs that grow

On purple heath, or mountain's brow,

Can banished peace restore;

In vain the spring of tears to dry,

For purer air or softer sky

We quit our native shore.

Friendship, the richest balm that flows,

Was meant to heal our sharpest woes,
But runs not always pure;

And Love-has sorrows of his own,

Which not an herb beneath the moon

Is found of power to cure.

Soft Pity, mild dejected maid,

With tenderest hand applies her aid

To dry the frequent tear;

But her own griefs, of finer kind,

Too deeply wound the feeling mind

TO MRS. MARISSAL:

1779.

WHITHER, whither, wearied dove,

Wilt thou fly to seek thy rest?

Beat with many a heavy storm,

Where repose thy tender breast?

Hither, hither, gentle dove,

Bend thy flight and build thy home;

Here repose thy tender breast,

Fix thy foot, and never roam.

Welcome, welcome, soft-eyed dove, To the sheltering low-roofed cot, Leave the splendid city's throng, Meekly kiss thy quiet lot.

Low-roofed cots and whispering groves

Suit thy pensive sweetness best;

Health shall bloom, and Peace shall smile

Round thy small but downy nest.

Try thy thrilling notes once more,
Plume again thy ruffled wing;

With thy sister turtles coo,

Drink at Pleasure's native spring.