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PARTING.

AH! who hath not viewed with a saddening emotion,
A sigh-swelling breast, and a tear-glistening eye,
The last smile of day as it gleamed on the ocean,
The last crimson blush that illumined the sky?
Ah! who hath not felt in his bosom fast heaving
The same tender tide, but more bitterly roll,
As he sighed the adieu' unto her he was leaving,
The joy of his heart and the pride of his soul?'
Sweet, sweet is the red ray of Phoebus, when gleaming
Serene, on the blue vault of heaven, so fair;
But sweeter the blush upon Helen's face beaming,
The last blaze of bliss on the dark night of care.
And dear are the last rays of light, when fast flitting
To paint and illumine some happier sphere;
But dearer to him, who his Helen was quitting.
Was that parting sun-beam that shone through a tear.
That look, that last smile, o'er her warm features shin-
Like Hesper adorning the incarnadined sky, [ing,
Still lives in his heart, and shall save from repining,
So bright was the promise that beamed in her eye!
And Hope, cheering Hope, in his bosom hath taken
The throne, from which Pleasure hath fleeted away!
So shines in the heavens, when by Phoebus forsaken,
The Queen of the Night, the bright Mirror of Day!

T. C.

THE SETTING SUN.

IN IMITATION OF" THOSE EVENING BELLS."

THAT setting sun! That setting sun!
What scenes, since first its race begun,
Of varied hues, its eye hath seen,
Which are as they had never been.
That setting sun! full many a gaze
Hath dwelt upon its fading rays,
Whilst answered many a thought sublime,
In every age and every clime.

'Tis sweet to mark thee, sinking slow
The ocean's coral caves below;

And when Night's murky reign is done
To see thee rise-sweet setting sun!
So, when my pulses cease to play,
Serenely set my evening ray,

That I may rise, Death's empire gone,
Glorious, like thee, sweet setting sun!
Malton, Yorkshire.

THE REMONSTRANCE.

PASTOR.

AH! wherefore cease to touch the string,
Does music now no more delight thee?
That thou the lyre aside shouldst fling,
Nor let the softest sounds invite thee.
Each cherished strain is heard no more,
Each chord is hushed that might awaken
Fulness of joys, or plaints that pour

From sorrow's victims-fond-forsaken.
The Muse, neglected and despised,

Shall mourn her favoured lyre, now slighted,
Her wreaths of laurel, once so prized,
Shall wither-fade-untimely blighted.
Each passing zephyr lingers near!

No softly-breathing cadence dying
In distance, charms the enraptured ear,
While all around are softly sighing.
If music's aid dispel our grief,

Or mildly soothe each varied sorrow,
Impart a gentle, sweet relief,

Ah! why refuse its aid to borrow?
Or, if a keener tone it give

To scenes of bliss and passion's power,
And while each short-lived passion live
Delight and charm the festive hour,
Let all the minstrel swell thy breast,
And, whether soft or bold thy measures,
They shall unceasingly impart

Fresh charms, and more exalted pleasures.
Cheshunt, Jan. 1820.

C. C. F.-I.

LINES,

Addressed to a Friend, on his Departure for the
East Indies.

AND canst thou thus renounce
The country where they dwell,
Whose tongues can scarce pronounce
The sorrowful farewell?
Or does imagination paint

The fancied joys of other climes
So glowing, as to render faint
The happiness of former times?
Ah, no! thou oft wilt dwell,
When far away removed,
On scenes remembered well!

On friends thy heart hath loved!
And, though in brighter climes thou roam,
Though richer landscapes charm thine eye,
Remembrance oft will picture home,

And oft will burst affection's sigh.
And though the billows roll between,

And though their forms thou canst not sce,
And though abroad thou long hast been,
Thy heart's with them, and their's with thee.
Islington, Nov. 1820.

STANZAS.

STILL borne tempestuous on the sea of life
My little bark is moving to and fro,
With winds and waves I hold unequal strife,
Nor can decide the doubtful course J go.
Contending passions are the storms that rise,
And error's darkness clouds the mental ray;
The lamp of reason seldom gilds the skies
With light sufficient to direct my way.

S. S.

But there's an hour when all these storms shall cease,
The darkness fly, and rising suns appear,

My bark be sheltered in the port of peace,
And rest eternally at anchor there.

December 31, 1820.

A. P.

SONG,

ADDRESSED TO A FEMALE FRIEND ON GOING ABROAD.

Tune-" Leb' woll."

A LONG farewell, my friend,
Here friendship's joys must end,
For though the heart is not consenting,
Stern Duty's never found relenting,
Yet bright and pure, and still the same,
Shall burn my friendship's sacred flame.
Oh, friend! suppress that tear-
That weakness is my fear:

Why should you shed a drop so tender
For one, who no return can render
Than that his fervent, friendly flame
Shall glow unsullied, still the same?
Hark! tolls the fatal knell!

Ah me! what words sball tell
My anguish, while imperious duty

Thus tears from friendship, joy, and beauty?
Yet doubt not, friend, that still the same,
More ardent only, glows my flame.

One kiss before we part;

"Twill soothe my aching heart.

This sacred proof of fond affection

Shall never die from recollection;

"Twill ever feed the generous flame

That glows in me to friendship's name.

And now, oh friend! adieu!

My first, last thought is you:

And when sometimes your mind's at leisure,
Think on your exiled friend with pleasure,
Who still, unaltered and the same,

For Aun alone feels friendship's flame!

Dec. 1820.

CASSIO.

J. Arliss, Printer, London.

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IN the smiling vallies and happy abodes of Switzerland, ere the iron hand of furious war, occasioned by the intrigues of French ambition, had disunited famifies and spread devastation around, the innocent Lisette resided with her father, in a peaceful cottage near the banks of the Lausanne. Their possessions were not great, but industry and content rendered them fully sufficient to bestow happiness. Not far from the cottage of Lisette and her father stood another, inhabited by a small family of like simple manners. Jacques Robardieu, the eldest son, was its support. In the labours, and in the sports of the field, he excelled every competitor; his understanding was strong and his heart generous. From his earliest age he had been intimate with Lisette, and his affection for her had encreased with his years. His love, artlessly but ardently expressed, had kindled in her breast a mutual flame, and they only waited till a year or two of patient Vol. 7, No. 39.

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