325 Go, now, and dream o'er that joy in thy slumberMoments so sweet again ne'er shalt thou number. Of Pain's bitter draught the flavour never flies, While Pleasure's scarce touches the lip ere it dies! That moon, which hung o'er your parting, so splendid, TAKE HENCE THE BOWL. TAKE hence the bowl; though beaming Of days, of nights now gone. Each cup I drain brings hither Some friend who once sat byBright lips, too bright to wither, Warm hearts, too warm to die! Till, as the dream comes o'er me Of those long vanish'd years, Then, then the cup before me Seems turning all to tears. WHEN THROUGH THE PIAZZETTA. Venetian Air. WHEN through the Piazzetta Then, dearest Ninetta, I'll come to thee there. Beneath thy mask shrouded, I'll know thee afar, As Love knows, though clouded, His own Evening Star. FAREWELL, THERESA! Venetian Air. FAREWELL, Theresa! that cloud which over TO THE REV. THOMAS PARKINSON, D. D. ARCHDEACON OF LEICESTER, CHANCELLOR OF CHESTER, AND RECTOR OF KEgworth, 4. Therefore, behold, the days come, saith the Lord, that it shall no more be called Tephet, nor the Valley of the Son of Hinnom, but the Valley of Slaughter; for they shall bury in Tophet till there be no place-Jer, vi. 31. 5 These hors were suggested by a passage in St Jerome's reply to some calamorous remarks that had been circulated upon his intimacy th the matron Pau'.- Num id ne vestes serice, nitentes gemmr, pict fa les, aut arripuit ambiti? Nulla fuit lia Roma maonarum, que meam possit dom, e mentem, mis lugens atque jejunans, letu pene care ta -Epist. Si tibi putem. And ne'er was Beauty's dawn so bright, So touching as that form's decay, Which, like the altar's trembling light, In holy lustre wastes away! THE BIRD, LET LOOSE. THE bird, let loose in eastern skies,' But high she shoots through air and light, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way. So grant me, God! from every care OH! THOU WHO DRY'ST THE MOURNER'S He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds. Psalm exlvii. 3. On! Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear, If, when deceived and wounded here, Must weep those tears alone. But Thou wilt heal that broken heart, Which, like the plants that throw Their fragrance frota the wounded part, Breathes sweetness out of woe. When joy no longer soothes or cheers, A moment's sparkle o'er our tears, Oh! who would bear life's stormy doom, Did not thy wing of love Come, brightly wafting through the gloom Our peace-branch from above? Then sorrow, touch'd by Thee, grows bright As darkness shows us worlds of light The carrier-pugeon, it is well-known, flies at an elevated pit - * G ou ao xurosparvтny d'expocurar det.-Chrysost, orde to surmount every obstacle between her and the place be wal Homil. 8, Epist. ad I. she is destined. |