But while the sulphur of the skies,
Disarmed, from this fair lady flies;
Or while the warm electric fire
In flashes darts along her spire,
She, not so merciful or kind,
(Or we, not guarded to her mind)
By Cupid's darts, procures our fall,
By Cupid's arrows kills us all.
[116] Published in the Time-Piece, April 7, 1797. Text from the 1809 edition.
TO MR. BLANCHARD[117]
The celebrated Æronaut, on his ascent in a Balloon, from the
jail-yard in Philadelphia, 1793
By Science taught, on silken wings
Beyond our grovelling race you rise,
And, soaring from terrestial things,
Explore a passage to the skies—
O, could I thus exalted sail,
And rise, with you, beyond the Jail!
Ah! when you rose, impell'd by fear
Each bosom heav'd a thousand sighs;
To you each female lent a tear,
And held the 'kerchief to her eyes:
All hearts still follow'd, as you flew,
All eyes admir'd a sight so new.
Whoe'er shall thus presume to fly,
While downward with disdain they look
Shall own this journey, through the sky,
The dearest jaunt they ever took;
And choose, next time, without reproach,
A humbler seat in Inskeep's coach.
The birds, that cleave the expanse of air,
Admiring, view your globe full-blown,
And, chattering round the painted car,
Complain your flight out-does their own:
Beyond their track you proudly swim,
Nor fear the loss of life or limb.