VOL. I.

Fugitive Poetry.

195

FUGITIVE POETRY.

ЕРІТАРН,

ON JOHN MIERS LETTSOM, M. D.

BY THE REV. THOMAS MAURICE.

ON virtuous Lettsom, in his manly bloom,
Resistless, Death's eternal shades descend;
While kindred Love and Friendship round his tomb
In speechless agony distracted bend.

Ah! what avails above the vulgar throng
To rise in genius, or in worth to soar;
Impetuous rolls the stream of Time along,

The bubble bursts, and Life's gay dream is o'er.

In every stage of varying life approved,

And still of toiling want the stedfast friend, He passed his transient day, admired, beloved : All praised him living, all bemoan his end.

From heaven's high throne the' Almighty Sire looked down,

Well pleased to view such worth below the skies;

He saw him ripe for an immortal crown,

And bad his soul quit earth for Paradise.

o 2

THE CHAPLET.

BY EDMUND SWIFT, ESQ.

Он yes, I will search through the garden with care, For Emilia the prime of its beauty I'll steal,

To bloom on her bosom, or twine in her hair;

And each leaf and each bud shall an emblem conceal.

But say, simple Bard, can a flower assume

The charms that alone to Emilia belong?

In thy numbers the pride of the garden may bloom, But its grace she surpasses, and needs not thy song.

'Tis true-yet perhaps she the gift will receive, Nor deny it a place on her bosom to find: For it seeks not to vie in the Chaplet I weave, With the grace of her form, or the charm of her mind.

The HYACINTH there shall its beauty display,

That bosom's best emblem; for poets have sung, 'Twas AFFECTION's warm tear that enliven'd the clay, Whence the sad drooping flower of TENDERNESS sprung.

The LAURUSTINE hardy, that braves the rude blast,
Shall twine in the Chaplet, an emblem of ME:
'Tis CONSTANCY's flower, that ever shall last,
And CONSTANCY only is worthy of THEE.

The CowSLIP, enrob'd in her mantle of gold,

O'er the Chaplet her bright-bending breast shall incline;

For an heart dropping blood lies conceal'd in its fold, And 'twill bloom to Emilia the record of mine.

And oh, in the wreath should the MYRTLE presume
To intrude, and Emilia its verdure approve,
How sweetly the Chaplet 'twould deck with its bloom!
'Tis the flower of Venus, and emblem of LOVE.

The LILY, array'd in her snowy cimarre,

On her bosom shall shine, than her bosom less pure; There TRUTH from her diadem dropt a bright star, And the gem with Emilia shall ever endure.

-And shall not the ROSE in the Chaplet be found,
The breast of thy favorite fair to adorn !—

Ah no-for its beauty sharp perils surround,
And far from Emilia I'd banish the thorn.

'Tis the flower of WAR:-and its white and its red Have silvered the banner, and crimsoned the shield, And sons against sires to battle have led,

And stained with the slaughter of brothers the field.

But the OLIVE its leaf more congenial shall lend,
That bids the wild spirit of enmity cease;
And it's verdure with VIRTUE's fair violet blend,
For still may her breast be the mansion of peace!