Parent of the soothing measure, Let me seize thy wetted string! Swiftly flies the flatterer, pleasure, Headlong, ever on the wing! [Footnote 1: The Odes of Casimire translated by G.H. [G. Hils.] London, 1646. 12mo. Ed.] [Footnote 2: Had Casimir any better authority for this quantity than Tertullian's line,-- Immemor ille Dei temere committere tale--? In the classic poets the last syllable is, I believe, uniformly cut off. Ed.] DARWINIANA. THE HOUR WHEN WE SHALL MEET AGAIN. (COMPOSED DURING ILLNESS AND IN ABSENCE.) Dim Hour! that sleep'st on pillowing clouds afar, O rise, and yoke the turtles to thy car! Bend o'er the traces, blame each lingering dove, And give me to the bosom of my love! My gentle love! caressing and carest, With heaving heart shall cradle me to rest; Shed the warm tear-drop from her smiling eyes, Lull with fond woe, and med'cine me with sighs; While finely-flushing float her kisses meek, Like melted rubies, o'er my pallid cheek. Chill'd by the night, the drooping rose of May Mourns the long absence of the lovely day: Young Day returning at her promised hour, Weeps o'er the sorrows of the fav'rite flower,-- Weeps the soft dew, the balmy gale she sighs, And darts a trembling lustre from her eyes. New life and joy th' expanding flow'ret feels: His pitying mistress mourns, and mourning heals! 1796. In my calmer moments I have the firmest faith that all things work together for good. But, alas! it seems a long and a dark process:-- "THE EARLY YEAR'S FAST-FLYING VAPOURS STRAY..." The early year's fast-flying vapours stray In shadowing trains across the orb of day; And we, poor insects of a few short hours, Deem it a world of gloom. Were it not better hope, a nobler doom, Proud to believe, that with more active powers On rapid many-colour'd wing, We thro' one bright perpetual spring Shall hover round the fruits and flowers, Screen'd by those clouds, and cherish'd by those showers! 1796. COUNT RUMFORB'S ESSAYS. These, Virtue, are thy triumphs, that adorn Fitliest our nature, and bespeak us born For loftiest action;--not to gaze and run From clime to clime; or batten in the sun, Dragging a drony flight from flower to flower, Like summer insects in a gaudy hour; Nor yet o'er lovesick tales with fancy range, And cry, ''Tis pitiful,'tis passing strange!' But on life's varied views to look around, And raise expiring sorrow from the ground:-- And he--who thus hath borne his part assign'd In the sad fellowship of human kind, Or for a moment soothed the bitter pain Of a poor brother--has not lived in vain. 1796 EPIGRAMS. ON A LATE MARRIAGE BETWEEN AN OLD MAID AND A FRENCH PETIT MAîTRE. Tho' Miss----'s match is a subject of mirth She consider'd the matter full well, And wisely preferr'd leading one ape on earth To perhaps a whole dozen in hell. 1796. ON AN AMOROUS DOCTOR.