And bursting through the dusky shroud Ride throned in light o'er every cloud And there, beneath His beam renewed, Then, Christian, dry the falling tear, A SAVIOUR'S blood hath bought thy peace, He bade the throb of terror cease, TO HIS MOTHER.-J. Bowdler, Jun. THOU dearest object of my earliest love, O what a race my weary feet have run, Since last thy image met my wishful eye; Then waft me hence, thou quick revolving sun, To that lov'd region of eternal joy. For where can man in heaven's high realms beside, Heart-soothing peace and gentle pleasure find; If senseless apathy in stoic pride, Constrain each nobler feeling of the mind? "Tis warm Affection's links that mildly join Such were the hours that once in rapture flew, Yet, e'en while Freedom spread her charms around, While laughed the morn, and every joy was Could fancied sorrows real pleasures wound, Fool that I was-full oft I vowed in vain, To rule my life with Reason's sober sway; Till headstrong Passion snatched the slackened rein, And chased Reflection's milder power away. Then, when o'erwhelmed I lay with fancied woe, Thy present image cheered the darkling scene, Methinks e'en now thy gentle dictates flow, Queen of each thought, of each affection queen For thou art all that Heaven itself could form, The noblest soul and meekest spirit joined; Nor Fortune's dream, nor Fate's o'erwhelming storm Can change th' unaltered tenor of thy mind. O yet, while youth smiles in its earliest prime, This ruffian soul with meekest thoughts inspire, Thoughts like thine own; e'er the rude hand of Time Light every spark, and fan the rising fire. While thus entranced I soothed each wishful care With silent Meditation's gentle power, Slow sunk the Sun, while poured on Night's dull ear, These awful dictates charmed the sacred hour: "Say why, my son, thus pensive and alone, "Does thy sad heart with fancied sorrows mourn; "Think'st thou these childish sighs, this abject groan, "Can bid the scenes of former bliss return? "Know, then, that years on hasty pinions fly, "Not pleasure's poison can their force destroy; "Silent we steal through life, are born and die, "Catch fancied bliss, and taste unreal joy. "But oh! how wretched he, whose infant heart "No mother's tender precepts e'er refined; "To him no joys can love's sweet balm impart, "Or soft affection sooth his tortured mind. "Go then, to Heaven thy pure devotions pay; "Go sooth thy Mother's soul with filial zeal, "Tear from her heart each anxious care away, "Feel what you are, and dare be what you feel." TO MISS B Then two years old.-Miss Bowdler. SWEET blossom, opening to the beams of day! How pleasing in thy infant mind to trace How sweet that smile unknown to ev'ry art, No airy phantoms of uncertain woe, The blessings of the present hour allay; Gay pleasure sparkles in thy gentle eye, And sends an anxious look to distant years. While those dear smiles with tender love I view, And o'er thy infant charms enraptured bend, Does my fond hope a real good pursue? And do these arms embrace a future friend? Should Heaven to me a lengthened date assign, Yet not for me these ardent wishes rise, For thee, dear babe, my prayers ascend the skies, May innocence still guard thy artless youth, May Heaven to thee its choicest gifts impart, And raise thy efforts to the noblest views! In transport wrapt may each fond parent see Thy heart repays with never-ceasing love. When pleasure smiles, and strews thy path with flow'rs, And youthful fancy doubles ev'ry joy, May brighter hopes attend thy gayest hours, |