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· Again beloved, esteemed, caress’d,

Cupid shall in thine arms be press’d, Sport on thy knees, or on thy bosom sleep:

My torch thine age-struck heart shall warm;

My hand pale winter's rage disarm, And Youth and Spring shall here once more their

revels keep.'-
A feather now of golden hue

He smiling from his pinion drew:
This to the poet's hand the boy commits;

And straight before Anacreon's eyes

The fairest dreams of fancy rise, And round his favour'd head wild inspiration flits.

His bosom glows with amorous fire ;

Eager he grasps the magic lyre; Swift o'er the tuneful chords his fingers move :

The feather pluck'd from Cupid's wing

Sweeps the too long neglected string, [Love. While soft Anacreon sings the power and praise of

Soon as that name was heard, the woods

Shook off their snows; the melting floods Broke their cold chains, and winter fled away.

Once more the earth was deck'd with flowers;

Mild zephyrs breathed through blooming bowers; High tower'd the glorious sun, and poured the

blaze of day.
Attracted by the harmonious sound,

Sylvans and fauns the cot surround,
And curious crowd the minstrel to behold :

The woodnymphs haste the spell to prove;

Eager they run; they list, they love, [is old And, while they hear the strain, forget the man Cupid, to nothing constant long,

Perch'd on the harp attends the song, Or stifles with a kiss the dulcet notes :

Now on the poet's breast reposes,

Now twines his hoary locks with roses, Or borne on wings of gold in wanton circle floats.

Then thus Anacreon- I no more

At other shrines my vows will pour, Since Cupid deigns my numbers to inspire :

From Phoebus or the blue-eyed maid

Now shall my verse request no aid, For Love alone shall be the patron of my lyre.

In lofty strain, of earlier days,
I spread the king's or hero's praise,
And struck the martial chords with epic fire :

But farewell, hero! farewell, king!

Your deeds my lips no more shall sing, For Love alone shall be the subject of my lyre.'



COME buy my ware! come buy! come buy!

Fond youths and curious maids, draw nigb; I have this lovely wicked boy to sell.

Go not, fair girls, his cage too near!

Though mild his looks, his arrows fear;
Be still, the urchin's faults and merits while I tell.

He in this little form unites
The pangs of hell and heaven's delights;

He reigns the lord of every mortal heart:

He wounds the peasant, wounds the king,

And is the fairest, falsest thing
That e'er excited joy, or bade a bosom smart.

Light as the wind, wild as the wave,

He's both a tyrant and a slave;
A fire that freezes and a frost that's hot;

A bitter sweet, and luscious sour!

Wretched is he who knows his power, Yet far more wretched still is he who knows it not.

His tongue is with persuasion tipp'd;

His darts, in poison'd honey dipp'd,
Speed to the bosom their unerring flight;

His lips are rich in flattering lies,
And oft a fillet o'er his eyes

[sight. He binds, and so conceals his faults from his own

He has two cheeks of blushing red;

He has two wings which still are spread, When most his stay is wish'd, most swift to fly:

He joys in wanton tricks and wiles,

And mark! that when he sweetest smiles, Then is the rogue most sure those tricks and wiles

to try.
For well, alas! too well I know,

He is the source of every woe,
To faith a stranger, 'gainst contrition steel'd;

But yet when first the false one came,

And kindled in my heart a flame,
Who had believed deceit in such a form conceal'd!

He begged so gently on my breast
Awhile his little head to rest!

He seem'd so good, so grateful, and so meek!

He said, he long had sought around

A resting place—but none had found!?And then I saw a tear pearl down his rosy cheek.

Who could, unmoved, his accents hear?

Who had not wiped away that tear? His tale of guile my ready ear believed ;

He look'd so sweet, he spoke. so fair,

With ease the traitor gain'd his prayer, And in my heart of hearts with transport was


But since I find his friends most true

Have reason most his spite to rue,
I'll take dear-bought Conviction's sage advice,

And drive him from my breast away:

He shall no more my trust betray, But be the slave of him who bids the highest price.

Observe, whoe'er shall buy this boy,

This offspring of Despair and Joy,
May have besides (I've use for them no more)

A lot of jealous doubts and fears,

Of fainting Virtue's last pure tears,
Of treacherous smiles, and oaths which perjured

lovers swore:
Of torches, their unsteady fires

Kindled by sweet fifteen's desires;
Of hopes created by a guileful sigh;

Of worn out wings; of broken darts,

Whose points still rankle in the hearts Of fond forsaken maids!—Come buy! come buy!

come buy!

But see him now for pardon sue!

See, how his eye of glossy blue
With mingled hope and grief he lifts to me.

Ah ! lovely boy, thy fears dismiss,

Convinced by that forgiving kiss, That I can never part from Julia and from thee.


TO MISS SARAH FOWLER. When first Aurora's gorgeous car

Springs from night's dreary vault released, And beauty's consecrated star

Retires behind the blushing east,
Can Titan's orient beams dispense
A more propitious influence

To animate the exulting earth
Than sheds bright Fancy o'er the mind,
When, from Care's grosser dregs refined,

It gives the fruits of genius birth,
Not in the solitary gloom,

By the dim taper's sickly ray, Sunk in the rust of Greece and Rome

Does Genius point the doubtful way,
While in abstracted thought the sage
Revolves the stern Socratic page;

Or by the tedious rules of art
In melancholy search pursues,
Yet finds the gay the bashful Muse

Unseen and unattain'd depart.
Where Poesy erects her seat,

The myrtle's fragrant branches twine. Beneath the Pleasures' nimble feet

Upstarts the new born columbine. VOL. III.


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