August 2, 1798.

Why should we think the years of life

Will pass serenely by,

When, for a day, the Sun himself

Ne'er sees a cloudless sky!

And, unassuming as she moves,

The meek-eyed Queen of night,

Meets wand'ring vapours in her path

To dim her paler light!

Then why should we in vain repine

At man's uncertain lot,

That cares will equally assail

The palace and the cot?

For Heaven ordains this chequer'd scene

Our mortal pow'rs t' employ;

That we might know, compare, select,

Be grateful, and enjoy.

[For the last verse I am indebted to the pen of a Friend.]

RETROSPECT OF YOUTH.

I wander'd forth amid the flow'rs,

And careless sipp'd the morning air;

Nor hail'd the angel-winged hours,

Nor saw that Happiness was there!

Alas! I often since have wept

That Gratitude unconscious slept!

For Truth and Pity then were young,

And walk'd in simple, narrow bounds;

Affection's meek, assuasive tongue,

Had sweet, but most capricious sounds.

Once, wild with scornful pride, she fled,

And only turn'd to seek the dead!

Oh! from a garden of delight,

What fair memento did I bring!

What amaranth of colours bright,

To mark the promise of my spring?

Behold this flow'r! its leaves are wet,

With tears of lasting, vain regret!