THE FADED ROSE.
Yon Rose, that bloom’d with tincture bright,
That shed its od’rous sweets around,
And smiling with the orient light,
Diffused its beauty on the ground:
That gave its fragrance to the air,
And waving kiss’d the gentle breeze,
And though it gave, appear’d still fair,
Still yielded nectar to the bees.
But blooming with uncommon pride,
And blushing with the rain-bow’s hue,
Upon the foliage by its side,
That glitter’d with the morning dew.
A fair that watch’d her fleecy flock
Beside the bending poplar shade,
And resting on a mossy rock,
Espy’d it waving in the glade.
Eager to seize the envy’d rose,
And with it deck her glowing breast;
She left her charge, forsook repose,
And pluck’d it from its thorny nest.
That instant droop’d its spreading leaves,
And soon its beauteous colours fled;
In vain Cecilia’s bosom heaves,
For with its charms the rose is dead.
So the fair damsel in her prime,
That blooms with all the pride of May,
Feels the corroding hand of time,
And all unconscious fades away.
SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF
AN AMIABLE YOUNG LADY;
Whose virtues richly merited the eulogium here offered by a friend.
Soft as the balm the gentle gales distils!
Sweet as the fragrancy of new-mown hills!
Her op’ning mind a thousand charms reveal’d,
Proof of those thousands which were yet conceal’d.
The loveliest flower in nature’s garden plac’d!
Permitted just to bloom, and pluck’d in haste.
Angels beheld her ripe for joys to come,
And call’d, by God’s command, their sister home.
NEW-YORK: Printed by THOMAS BURLING, Jun. & Co. No. 115, Cherry-street.— Subscriptions for this Magazine (at 6s. per quarter) are taken in at the Printing-Office, and at the Circulating Library of Mr. J. FELLOWS, No. 60, Wall-Street.