But why, why flows the sudden tear, Since Heaven such precious boons has lent, The lives of those who life endear, And, though scarce competence, content? Sure, when no other bliss was mine Than that which still kind Heaven bestows, Yet then could peace and hope combine To promise joy and give repose. Then have I wander'd o'er the plain, And bless'd each flower that met my view; Thought Fancy's power would ever reign, And Nature's charms be ever new. I fondly thought where Virtue dwelt, That happy bosom knew no ill-- That those who scorn'd me, time would melt, And those I loved be faultless still. Enchanting dreams! kind was your art That bliss bestow'd without alloy; Or if soft sadness claim'd a part, 'Twas sadness sweeter still than joy. Oh! whence the change that now alarms, Fills this sad heart and tearful eye, And conquers the once powerful charms Of youth, of hope, of novelty? 'Tis sad Experience, fatal power! That clouds the once illumined sky, That darkens life's meridian hour, And bids each fairy vision fly. She paints the scene--how different far From that which youthful fancy drew! Shews joy and freedom oft at war, Our woes increased, our comforts few. And when, perhaps, on some loved friend Our treasured fondness we bestow, Oh! can she not, with ruthless hand, Change even that friend into a foe? See in her train cold Foresight move, Shunning the rose to 'scape the thorn; And Prudence every fear approve, And Pity harden into scorn! The glowing tints of Fancy fade, Life's distant prospects charm no more; Alas! are all my hopes betray'd? Can nought my happiness restore? Relentless power! at length be just, Thy better skill alone impart; Give Caution, but withhold Distrust, And guard, but harden not, my heart! [40] These tender and beautiful verses are transcribed from Johnson's "Musical Museum," in a note to which they were first published by the editor, Mr David Laing. He remarks that he "has reason to believe" that they are from the pen of Mrs Stewart. (See Johnson's "Musical Museum," vol. iv. p. 366, _new edition_. Edinburgh, 1853.) ALEXANDER WILSON.