.
Ah! stop your course--too long I've felt your chain,
Too long the feeble influence of its pow'r;
The heir of grief may fall in love with pain,
And worst-misfortune feel the tranquil hour.
Hail, fortitude! blest friend life's ills to brave,
All misery boasts, shall wither in the grave!

REFLECTIONS OF A POET,

ON BEING INVITED TO A GREAT DINNER.

Great epoch in the history of bards!
Important day to those who woo the nine;
Better than fame, are visitation cards,
And heaven on earth, at a great house to dine.

O cruel memory! do not conjure up
The ghost of Sally Dab, the famous cook;
Who gave me solid food, the cheering cup,
And on her virtues, begg'd I'd write a book.

Rest, goddess, from all broils! I bless thy name
Dear kitchen-nymph, as ever eyes did glut on!
I'd give thee all I have, my slice of fame,
If thou, dear shade! could'st give one slice of mutton.

Yet hold--ten minutes more, and I am blest;
Fly quick, ye seconds; quick ye moments, fly:
Soon shall I put my hunger to the test,
And all the host of miseries defy.

Thrice is he arm'd, who hath his dinner first,
For well-fed valor always fights the best;
And tho' he may of over-eating burst,
His life is happy, and his death is blest.

To-day I dine--not on my usual fare;
Not near the sacred mount with skinny nine;
Not in the park upon a dish of air:
But on real eatables, and rosy wine.

Delightful task! to cram the hungry maw,
To teach the empty stomach how to fill,
To pour red port adown the parched craw;
Without one dread dessert--to pay the bill.

I'm off--methinks I smell the long-lost savor;
Hail, platter sound! to poet, music sweet:
Now grant me, Jove, if not too great a favor,
Once in my life, as much as I can eat!

_SONNET_.

ON SEEING A YOUNG LADY,
I HAD PREVIOUSLY KNOWN, CONFINED IN A MADHOUSE.

Sweet wreck of loveliness! alas, how soon
The sad brief summer of thy joys hath fled;
How sorrow's friendship for thy hapless doom,
Thy beauty faded, and thy hopes all dead.
Oh! 'twas that beauty's pow'r which first destroy'd
Thy mind's serenity; its charms but led
The faithless friend, that thy pure love enjoy'd,
To tear the blooming blossom from its bed.
How reason shudders at thy frenzied air!
To see thee smile, with fancy's dreams possess'd;
Or shrink, the frozen image of despair,
Or love-enraptur'd, chaunt thy griefs to rest,
Oh! cease that mournful voice, poor