ODE XXXIV. то MIRTH. BY T. SMOLLETT, M. D. PARENT of Joy! heart-easing Mirth! So shall each hill in purer green array'd, And flower adorn'd in new-born beauty glow; The grove shall smooth the horrors of his shade, And streams in murmurs shall forget to flow. Shine, Goddess, shine with unremitted ray, And gild (a second sun) with brighter beam our day. Labour with thee forgets his pain, The morning opes on high And on the world doth pour His glories in a golden shower. Lo! Darkness trembling 'fore the hostile ray Quick, as the lightning's flash, glide to sepulchral night. But whence the gladdening beam O'er the long prospect wide? 'Tis Mirth, I see her sit With laughter at her side. Bright-ey'd Fancy hovering near young Wit flings his pointed dart, Fear not now Affliction's power, Fear not now wild passion's rage, Nor fear ye aught in evil hour, Save the tardy hand of Age. Now Mirth hath heard the suppliant Poet's prayer; No cloud, that rides the blast,shall vex the troubled air. ODE XXXV. MORTALITY. BY THE REV. THOMAS PENROSE. 'Twas the deep groan of death That struck th' affrighted ear! The momentary breeze,-the vital breath Wisdom! set the portal wide,- With Hope mistrustless at her side, And Wealth, that chance defies, and greedy Thirst of Gain. Call the group, and fix the eye,— Shew the portrait in the dust : Youth may frown-the picture's just,— And tho' each nerve resists-yet yield at length they must. Where's the visage, that awhile Glow'd with glee and rosy smile? Pale's the once social cheek, And wither'd round the ghastly bone. Where are the beamy orbs of sight, No more with vivid ray they roll- Where's the heart, whose vital power And Froze to a stone !-And froze the hand Ah! what remains to bring relief,- To soothe the breast in tempest tost, 'Tis the departed worth, tho' sure To gash the wound, yet works the cure :— 'Tis Merit's gift alone to bloom O'er the dread horrors of the tomb; Does Ambition toil to raise Trophies to immortal praise ? Trust not, tho' strong her passions burn, Time's cank'ring tooth shall fret the pile. |