"'Twas in heaven pronounced, and 'twas muttered in hell, And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell; On the confines of earth 'twas permitted to rest, And the depths of the ocean its presence confest. 'Twill be found in the sphere, when 'tis riven asunder, Be seen in the lightning, and heard in the thunder. 'Twas allotted to man with his earliest breath, Attends at his birth, and awaits him in death, Presides o'er his happiness, honour, and health, Is the prop of his house, and the end of his wealth. In the heaps of the miser 'tis hoarded with care, But is sure to be lost on his prodigal heir, It begins every hope, every wish it must bound, With the husbandman toils, and with monarchs is crown'd, Without it the soldier, the seaman may roam, But woe to the wretch who expels it from home! In the whispers of conscience its voice will be found, Nor e'en in the whirlpool of passion be drown'd, 'Twill not soften the heart; but though deaf to the ear, It will make it acutely and instantly hear. Yet in shade let it rest like a delicate flower, Ah, breathe on it softly--it dies in an hour. Some other riddles and charades appear in her collected poems, but none are of equal merit to the riddle on the letter H. Our next example bears the title of an "Ode":-- "Lo! where the gaily vestur'd throng, Fair learning's train, are seen, Wedg'd in close ranks her walls along, And up her benches green.[2] Unfolded to their mental eye Thy awful form, Sublimity! The moral teacher shows-- Sublimity of Silence born, And Solitude 'mid caves forlorn And dimly vision'd woes; Or Stedfast Worth, that inly great Mocks the malignity of faith. While whisper'd pleasure's dulcet sound Murmurs the crowded room around, And Wisdom, borne on Fashion's pinions, Exulting hails her new dominions. Oh! both on me your influence shed, Dwell in my heart and deck my head! Where'er a broader, browner shade The shaggy beaver throws, And with the ample feather's aid O'er canopies the nose; Where'er with smooth and silken pile, Ling'ring in solemn pause awhile, The crimson velvet glows; From some high benches giddy brink, Clinton with me begins to think (As bolt upright we sit) That dress, like dogs, should have its day, That beavers are too hot for May, And velvets quite unfit. Then taste, in maxims sweet, I draw From her unerring lip; How light, how simple are the straw, How delicate the chip! Hush'd is the speaker's powerful voice, The audience melt away, I fly to fix my final choice And bless th' instructive day. The milliner officious pours Of hats and caps her ready stores, The unbought elegance of spring; Some wide, disclose the full round face, Some shadowy, lend a modest grace And stretch their sheltering wing.