n afresh!
In the winds, hark! blue Avrin attends to our call;
I, your chief, will be first in your glories, or fall!

LINES

WRITTEN ON DELIA, LISTENING TO HER CANARY-BIRD.

When thoughtless Delia unconcern'd surveys
Her plumy captive, as he leans to sing,
Lo! while she smiles, the fascination stays
The little heaven of its airy wing.

Ah! so she tastes the sorrows I impart,
Smiles at the sound, but never feels my pain;
And many a glance deludes my captive heart
To sigh in numbers, tho' I sigh in vain!

THE HECTIC.

Upon the breezy cliff's impending brow,
With trembling step, the Hectic paus'd awhile;
As round his wasted form the sea-breeze blew,
His flush'd cheek brighten'd with a transient smile:

Refresh'd and cherish'd by its balmy breath,
He dreamt of future bliss, of years to come;
Whilst, with a look of woe, the spectre, Death,
Oft shook his head, and pointed to his tomb.

Such sounds as these escap'd his lab'ring breast:--
"Sweet Health! thou wilt revisit this sad frame;
Slumber shall bid these aching eyelids rest,
And I shall live for love, perchance for fame."
Ah! poor enthusiast!--in the day's decline
A mournful knell was heard, and it was thine!

VERSES TO MISS M. G----,

ACCOMPANIED WITH A DRIED HELIOTROPE,

_Which she had presented to the Author a Year before_.

Time, since thou gav'st this flow'r to me,
Has often turn'd his glass of sand;
Perchance 'tis now unknown to thee
That once its breath perfum'd thy hand.

Oh, lovely maid! that thou may'st see
How much thy gifts my care engage,
I've sent the cherish'd flow'r to thee
Without a blemish, but from age.

Kiss but its leaves;--one kiss from thee,
And all its sweetness 'twill regain;
And, if I live in memory
Thus honour'd, send it back again!

LINES

TO MRS. B----, AT BRISTOL HOT WELLS

Tho' nought, amid these darkened groves,
But various groups of death appear,
Scar'd at the sight, tho' fly the Loves,
And Sickness saddens all the year,

Yet, Clara, where you deign to stay,
Your sense and manners charm us so,
E'en sick'ning Sorrow's self looks gay,
And smiles amid the wreck of woe.

LINES

TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH,

UPON THE PRINTS

_From her beautiful Drawings of the Birth and Triumph of Cupid_.

Once, for a palace, Painting left her grove,
And taught her royal fav'rite's hand to trace
A beauteous maiden's tal