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The church-yard path along,
Her lovers funeral song.
Her startling fancy found
His groan in every sound.
The visionary vale-
Sad-sounding in the gale!
23. Just then she reach'd, with trembling step,
Her aged mother's door“He's gone!" she cry'd; " and I shall see
That angel-face no more!
Beat high against my side --"
She shivering, sigh’d, and died.
BY MISS CARTER.
The midnight moon serenely smiles
O'er nature's soft repose,
Nor ruffling tempest blows.
Now ev'ry passion sinks to rest,
The throbbing heart lies still;
Distract the lab’ring will.
In silence hush'd, to Reason's voice
Attends each mental pow'r; Come, dear Emilia, and enjoy
Reflection's fav’rite hour,
Come; while the peaceful scene invites,
Let's search this ample round; Where shall the lovely fleeting form
Of Happiness be found?
Does it amidst the frolic mirth
Of gay assemblies dwell?
That shades the hermit's cell?
How oft the laughing brow of joy
A sick’ning heart conceals! And through the cloister's deep recess
Invading sorrow steals.
In vain through beauty, fortune, wit,
The fugitive we trace;
That brightens Clodio's face.
Perhaps the joy to these deny'd,
The heart in friendship finds: Ah! dear delusion, gay conceit
Of visionary minds.
Howe'er our varying notions rove,
Yet all agree in one,
At distance from our own.
O blind to each indulgent aim
Of pow's, supremely wise, Who fancy Happiness in aught
The band of Heav'n depies!
Vain are alike the joys we seek,
And vain what we possess, Unless harmonious Reason tunes
The passions into peace.
To temper'd wishes, just desires,
Is Happiness confin’d,
The music of the mind.
WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT,
BY THE SAME.
Ler coward Guilt, with pallid Fear,
To shelt'ring caverns fly,
That thunders through the sky.
Protected by that Hand, whose law
The threat'ning storms obey, Intrepid Virtue seniles secure,
As in the blaze of day.
In the thick cloud's tremendous gloom
The lightning's lurid glare,
That breathes the vernal air.