And still the grove is cool and green,
And clear the bubbling fountain flows,
Still shines the night's resplendent queen,
As erst in Paradise she rose:
The grapes their purple nectar pour,
To 'suage the heart that griefs oppress;
And still the lonely ev'ning bow'r
Invites and screens the stolen kiss.
Still Philomela's melting strain,
Responsive to the dying gale,
Beguiles the bosom's throbbing pain,
And sweetly charms the list'ning vale;
Creation's scene expanded lies:—
Blest scene! how wond'rous bright and fair!
Till Death's cold hand shall close my eyes,
Let me the lavish'd bounties share!
Weekly Visitor or Ladies' Misc., I-64, Nov. 27, 1802, N. Y.
Original Papers.
For the Port Folio.
THE AMERICAN LOUNGER.
By Samuel Saunter, Esq.
No. XLIII.
Et vos, O lauri, carpam, et te proxima myrtus,
Sic positae, quoniam suaves miscetis odores.
—Virgil.