Thy friendship, like some favouring star Emerging from the clouds of night, In gentlest splendour beaming far, First caught my trembling, doubtful sight. And still, as wistfully I gaz'd, The scatter'd clouds methought withdrew; 'Till silent, raptur'd and amaz'd, A tranquil morning blest my view. The howling winds, which through the night In angry gusts my bark had driven, Now sunk, and with returning light Returning strength and peace were given. And can I cease to prize that light Which shone when all beside was dark? Which cheer'd misfortune's gloomy night The polar star which sav'd my bark? I No, no, secure from all decay Thy virtues live; and, right or wrong, Be thy opinions which they may, Still thou shalt claim my grateful song. And though I fear I still must be A Whig, and in the name must glory; So warm my friendship, that, for thee, I would, but cannot, be a Tory! SONNET TO TUNEFUL enchantress! whose bewitching art Beguiles the soul to many a blissful dream; How shall the Muse, invok'd to such a theme, Express thy power to captivate the heart? Him, in whose eye no tears of rapture start, Untouch'd by strains like thine, we well may To sentiment a stranger, though he seem In other guise to act a manly part. deem Sweet songstress! frown not on my artless lyre; Nor scorn the humble, tributary line Thus feebly offer'd. Well might'st thou inspire A muse to soar above the flight of mine; But who, of all the bright parnassian choir, Could sing thy art in strains so sweet as thine? TO MARIA ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING. O Nature! all thy shews and forms With life and light, Or Winter howls, in gusty storms, The long dark night!"-BURNS. WHILE winter's half subsiding breeze, In mournful cadence through the trees, Laments the slowly lengthening day, And chides the animating ray, That gilds, with spring-like lustre bright, The landscape spread before our sight;` Wilt thou, my lovely friend, excuse This trivial offering of a muse, Which finds in friendship's partial smile More than a meed for ever toil A muse most willing to resign The world's applause, if blest with thine. The shepherd sage, whose well-earn'd fame Once put the lore of schools to shame; Whose head was silver'd o'er with age, As Gay hath told us in his page ; Gather'd his hints for contemplation From every object in creation : Nor can we doubt th' attentive mind In nature's open book may find Maxims of wisdom, clearly shown, O'erlook'd by ignorance alone. For me, who through the livelong day, Can scarcely steal an hour away From graver cares, whene'er I rove Through verdant mead, or shady grove, |