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Then the firm arch shall stem the roaring tide,
And join thofe countries which the ftreams divide !
And the proud palace rear it's ample roof;
These she reftores-O! that she could restore
BY THE REV. MR. GERRARD.
N o'ergrown wood my wandering steps invade,
With furface mantled in untrodden fnow; Dire haunt! for none but favage monsters made, Where frosts descend, and howling tempefts blow.
Here, from the search of bufy mortals stray'd,
O my Aminta! dear diftracting name!
Late all my comfort, all my fond delight; Still writhes my foul beneath it's torturing flame, Still thy pale image fills my aching fight!
When fhall vain Memory flumber o'er her woes?
When fhall this fatal form in death repose,
Again the accents faulter on my tongue;
Ye bitter skies! upon the tale defcend;
Ye blafts, tho' rude your vifits, lend an ear; Around, ye gentler oaks, your branches bend; And, as ye liften, drop an icy tear!
"Twas when the step with confcious pleasure roves,
Where round the fhades the circling woodbines throng; When Flora wantons o'er th' enamell'd
And feather'd choirs indulge the amorous fong:
Infpir'd by duteous love, I fondly ftray'd,
But, ah! in fmiles no more they met my fight,
The tear of pity stole into my eye;
While ruder paffions in their turn fucceed;
Forbid the victims unreveng'd to die,
And doom the author of their wrongs to bleed.
With hafty step, enrag'd, I homewards ran ;
Curfe on my speed! th' unerring tube I brought;
That fatal hour my date of woe began,
Too sharp to tell, too horrible for thought!
Difaft'rous deed! irrevocable ill!
How shall I tell the anguish of my fate! Teach me, remorfelefs monsters, not to feel, Inftru&t me, fiends and furies, to relate!
Wrathful behind the guilty fhade I stole,
I rais'd the tube-the clamorous woods refoundToo late I faw the idol of my foul,
Struck by my aim, fall fhrieking to the ground!
No other blifs her foul allow'd but me;
(Hapless the pair that thus indulgent prove!) She fought concealment from a fhady tree,
In amorous filence to obferve her love.
I ran; but O! too, foon I found it true!
From her ftain'd breaft life's crim fon ftream'd apace;
The fhort-liv'd rofes faded from her face!
Gods! could I beat that fond reproachful look,
To fave a wretch that doom'd himself to bleed.
While I, diftracted, prefs'd her in my arms,
And fondly ftrove t' imbibe her latest breath;
• Content beneath thy erring hand I die!
Our fates grew envious of a blifs so true;
No more fhe fpake, but droop'd her lily head!
In death the ficken'd-breathlefs-haggard-pale!
And afk'd kind vengeance from the paffing gale.
Where slept your bolts, ye lingering lightnings fay!
Or why, too paffive Earth, didst thou delay!
Low in the duft the beauteous corfe I plac'd,
Bedew'd and foft with many a falling tear ;`
And bade the cypress mourn in filence near.
Oft as bright morn's all-fearching eye returns,
When, spotless victim, shall my form decay!
my cold corfe lie treasur'd up with thine!
THE AFRICAN PRINCE,
IN ENGLAND, TO ZARA AT HIS FATHER'S COURT.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR M DCC XLIX.
BY DR. DODD.
RINCES, my fair, unfortunately great,
Fame pays with empty breath the toils they bear,
Rewards the hero with a noble dow'r ;
For this alone I dar'd the roaring fea,
Yet more for this I dar'd to part with thee!