W. M.

To Miss. R. G

Occasioned by the unexpected serenity of the

On the marriage of Mr. H, to Miss

An adieu to the place of her Nativity.

Lines occasioned by the death of the Rev.

Truth-An Allegory.

Written at the request of a Lady, in the ab-

sence of her Husband and Child.

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169

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183

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An address to Fancy, By Mrs. J. F—.

202

POEMS,

ON

VARIOUS SUBJECTS.

ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR, BY Mrs. J. F—,

IN ANSWER TO A REQUEST, THAT SHE
WOULD BE A PARTNER IN THIS PUBLICA-
TION.

DOST thou ask me, dearest maid,
To forsake this peaceful shade,
Where by Heaven's wisdom plac'd,
Life's meridian I have pass'd?
Here amidst the rural throng,
If I chant my rustic song,

Pleas'd the list'ning group attend,

And the artless lay commend;

While partial kindness spreads a veil,
Every blemish to conceal :

2

But should I thy plan pursue,
And emerge to public view,

What different treatment must I bear,
The critic's taunt, the witling's sneer!
While genius, from his height sublime,
Would pitying view my waste of time;
And prudent housewives thank their stars,
They dealt in no such useless wares.
But thou, to whom indulgent Heaven
Superior gifts has kindly given!
Go on; and in thy moral page
Instruct and please the rising age:
Rouse and animate our youth,

In the search of sacred truth:
Fan devotion's hallow'd flame,
And point to heav'n each ardent aim :
Till hope, and truth, and love divine,
In their lives and actions shine.
And, when thou quit'st thy earthly lyrc,
To join the bright celestial choir,
Thy harmonious pow'rs shall raise
Seraphic strains, in grateful praise
To him, who fills heav'ns awful throne!
Th' eternal Godhead, Three in One!

INSCRIBED TO MRS. J. F——.

WHY should my friend neglect the gifts of heaven,
Who has to all their different talents given?
Let critics point the faults we ought to mend,
And every art its sister art befriend :
While we the dictates of the muse obey,

And shape our course as nature points the way.
Thou lively emblem of whate'er is kind!
Why should the precious offspring of thy mind
Be kept so close ?-Come, let them take the air,
They'll bloom more fresh at least, if not more fair;
The sun, indeed, may tinge their lily hue,
But while imbrowning it invig'rates too.

Orestus seconds, but we plead in vain;
The coward muse denies her pleasing strain,
Or breathes it softly to unconscious trees;
May-hap indebted to some freindly breeze
Some notes are caught; transported with the
sound,

We for the unseen warbler gaze round.

B