"The friend of Happiness, I dwell Belov'd alike in court or cell; Where Glory lifts her ardent eye, With hasty, kindred zeal I fly, In sun-beams place the hero's form, And bid his arm command the storm; On swelling clouds an altar raise, And fan the tow'ring flame of praise. "Oft, from the lorn enthusiast's lyre, My fingers strike etherial fire, And give to sounds of piercing woe, Extatic rapture's fervent glow. Oft sooth the maniac's throbbing vein, And grace her simple, wilder'd strain; The tribe of Pain in fetters keep, Lull wounded Memory to sleep, And, in the mind of gloomy Care, Bid Thought an angel's semblance wear. "Dear to each blest aerial pow'r, E'en Wisdom calls me to her bow'r; My songs her leisure hours beguile, And teach her holy lip to smile. And, when the Muse, with thoughtful care, Has woven chaplets for her hair, I let her, with her myrtles, twine, Full many a fragrant rose of mine. "Then why, since all the wise and gay, To me a grateful homage pay, Since I to all my hand extend, And, liberal, every heart befriend, Does Nancy from the croud retire, And rend my blossoms from her lyre? Though every string the loss bewail, And tones of mellow sweetness fail, Which us'd to charm the pensive ear, When list'ning Friendship bent to hear. "Tell her I wish not to intrude Upon her sacred solitude, Nor cast my undulating chain, Around her glowing heart again; No! every claim I now resign, Yet let some small regard be mine; Let one, who nurs'd her infant years, And wip'd away some bitter tears, Still animate the scenes around, And make her tread on fairy ground; Give playful sweetness to each lay, And decorate the passing day. "Tell her, if now she scorns my strain, She may invoke my name in vain; In vain my proffered aid implore, Contemn'd, I hardly pardon more." She said, and springing from the earth, Attending found her suitor Mirth, Who caught her hand, with lively air, And plac'd her in his silver chair, Which through the yielding ether flew, And quickly bore them from my view. ON THE EVE OF DEPARTURE FROM O---- Loud beats the rain! The hollow groan Of rushing winds I hear, That with a deep and sullen moan, Pass slowly by the ear. Soon will my dying fire refuse To yield a cheerful ray, Yet, shivering still I sit and muse The latest spark away. Ah, what a night! the chilly air Bids comfort hence depart, While sad repining's clammy wings Cling icy, to my heart. To-morrow's dawn may fair arise, And lovely to the view; The sun with radiance gild the skies, Yet then--I say adieu! Oh, stay, dear Night, with cautious care, And lingering footsteps move, Though day may be more soft and fair, Not her, but thee, I love. Stay, wild in brow, severe in mien, Stay! and ward off the foe; Who, unrelenting smiles serene, Yet tells me I must go. Forsake these hospitable halls, Where Truth and Friendship dwell, To these high towers and ancient walls, Pronounce a long farewell.