THE ANTHOLOGY.

Original Poetry.

THE VAGRANT.

VIEW, ye fons of eafe and fortune,

While you glitter on the road,
Yonder Vagrant low reclining,
Sunk beneath affliction's load.
Even the tree in friendly whisper
Bids him fleep in calm repofe ;-
Even the tender birds in pity
Softly fing to lull his woes.

By your founding wheels awaken'd,
Round he fadly looks and fighs;
Still a foul, that ftrives with forrow,
Glimmers through his hollow eyes.
Stay, ye ftrangers to affliction,
Hear the darken'd deeds of fate!
Liften to his mournful ftory;
Learn what ills on life await.

In his artlefs, dire narration,
He this folemn truth may show;
Virtue, on this vale of wonders,
Often bears feverest wo.

Open then your hearts to pity,
To her fweet behest incline;
Let the grief appeasing seraph
Ever plead with voice divine.

Scenes, that glowing youth discovers,
Brightened in their ravifh'd view.

"Death, in strong and fudden fury,
Me of parents, friends bereft.
In the world a homeless ftranger
Early I alone was left.

"To the heights of fame and merit
Young ambition bade me steer;
But a fervile doom, repreffing,
Forc'd me in a loath'd career.
"Yet a while I feem'd to profper;
Toil a little wealth had gain'd.
Then I faw my tender partner,

Then in love her hand obtain'd.

"Tranfient was this morn of pleasure;
Soon a darkfome tempeft blew.
Fire took all. My only darling
Perish'd in my blighted view.

"Long remain'd the lofs repairless;
Sadeft gloom the world array'd.
Time, at length, and hard employment
Brighter fcenes again display'd.

"Heaven, our lot to us appointing,

Hatred for our pain affigns.

Choose we then a night of forrow,

While a day of comfort fhines?

"Thus I lov'd again, and wedded.—
Anguifh feiz'd the joy I hop'd.-
She, with debts my prifon opening,
With a faithlefs friend elop'd.

"Through neglect my needy infant
From the stings of life deceas'd.
I was, after long confinement,
From my dreadful cell releas'd.

"Then I fought in diftant regions
What this land to me refus'd.
There in honest trade I flourish'd ;—
Novel scenes my thought amus'd.

"Yet I lov'd my native country.
All my former griefs decay'd.
On my village oft remembrance
Fondly look'd and gaily play'd.

"All my treasure now embarking,
Hither I my course did bend ;-
Here in tranquil ease and friendship
My remaining days to spend.

"While upon the ocean gliding, Lawless foes the fhip affail'd.

We fought bravely, but they triumph'd, And our crew for flaves empal'd.

"After long and cruel bondage,
Freedom only I regain'd.
After many a wrecking tempeft
I again this shore attain'd.-

"Who, to mifery thus fubjected,
Can a human friend retain ?
Every former lov'd acquaintance
Views me with fevere difdain.

"Cold and fhelterlefs I wander

Through the bleak and difmal day;

Night bewildering, I fink under

Some kind hedge befide the way.

"But e'er long, my wandering ceases

Woes will ne'er my life moleft.

Cheering confcience looks to Heaven,

Where is mercy, joy and rest."

Selected Poetry.

ODE ON THE CLOSE OF AUTUMN;

BY GEORGE DYER.

Now farewel fummer's fervid sky,

That, while the fun through Cancer rides, With chariot flow, and feverish eye,

Scorches the beech-clad forest fides!

And farewel autumn's milder ray,

Which, the warm labours of the fickle o'er, Could make the heart of swain industrious gay, Viewing in barn fecure his wheaten ftore: What time the focial hours mov'd blithe along, Urg'd by the nut-brown ale, and jolly harveft fong. What different founds around me rife!

Now midt a barren fcene I rove, Where the rude haum in hillocks rife,

Where the rafh fportsman frights the grove. Ah, cruel sport! Ah, pain-awakening found! How hoarse your death-note to his liftening ear, Who late, wild-warbled mufic floating round, Bleft the mild warblers of the rising year; Who, as each fongfter strain'd his little throat, Grateful himself would try the foft refponfive note. Yet ftill in Autumn's fading form

The tender melting charms we trace, Such as, love's feafon paft, ftill warm

The fober matron's modeft face:

Mild-beaming funs, oft hid by fleeting clouds,
Blue-mantled fkies, light-fring'd with golden hues,
Brooks, whofe fwoln waters mottled leaves o'erfpread,
Fields, where the plough its steady course pursues,
And woods, whose many fhining woods might move
Fancy's poetic hand to paint the orange grove.

O ftill-for fancy is a child

Still with the circling hours I play,

And feast on hips and blackberries wild,
Like truant school-boy gay :

Or eager plunge in cool pellucid ftream,

Heedless that fummer's fultry day is fled,
Or mufe, as breathes the flute, fome rural theme,
Such theme, as fancy's fong may yet bestead;
Or, ftretch'd at eafe, will teach the lift'ning groves,
In tuneful Maro's ftrain, fome rofy ruftic loves.

Now bear me to the diftant wood,

And bear me to the filent stream,
Where erst I stray'd in serious mood,
Loft in fome rapturous dream.
To me, O Hornsey, what retreat so fair?
What fhade to me fo confecrate as thine?
And on thy banks, poor ftreamlet, did I care

For all the spring-haunts of the tuneful Nine?

Ah, pleasures, how ye lighten, as ye fade!

As fpreads the fun's faint orb at twilight's dubious fhade.

(By the fame.)

THE MUSICIANS, AN ODE.

TWO AMIABLE YOUNG WOMEN, PLAYING SUCCESSIVELY ON THE

HARPSICHORD.

DID Tagus flow befide my cot,

And warble foft on beds of gold,
Were I by whispering zephyr told,
That I fhould, in fome favour'd spot,
Hear notes fo pleafing, thither would I flee,
Nor warbling Tagus hear, to liften, fair, to thee,

For me did bleft Arabia's grove
Each fenfe-fubduing sweet diftil,
And foft melodious murmurs fill,

My ravish'd ear with notes of love;

That charm of numbers should not hold me long;

That charm, fair, I would break, to liften to thy fong,