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200  ANNUAL REGISTER  For the YEAR 1772.  201

Go boldly forth, my simply lay,
Whose accents flow with artless ease
Like orient pearls at random strung;
Thy notes are sweet, the damsels say,
But O! far sweeter, if they please
The nymph for whom these notes are sung.

A Turkish Ode of Msihi; from the same.

HEAR how the nightingales on ev'ry spray,
Hail in wild notes the sweet return of May!
The gale, that o'er yon waving almond blows,
The verdant bank with silver blossoms strows:
The smiling season decks each flow'ry glade.
Be gay: too soon the flow'rs of Spring will fade.
  What gales of fragrance scent the vernal air!
Hills, dales, and woods their loveliest mantles wear.
Who knows what cares await that fatal day,
When ruder gusts shall banish gentle May?
Ev'n death, perhaps, our valleys will invade.
Be gay: too soon the flow'rs of Spring will fade.
  The tulip now its varied hue displays,
And sheds, like Ahmed's eye, celestial rays.
Ah, nation ever faithful, ever true,
The joys of youth, while May invites, pursue!
Will not these notes your tim'rous minds persuade?
Be gay: too soon the flow'rs of Spring will fade.
  The sparkling dewdrops o'er the lilies play
Like orient pearls, or like the beams of day.
If love and mirth your wanton thoughts engage,
Attend, ye nymphs! (A poet's words are sage.)
While thus you sit beneath the trembling shade,
Be gay: too soon the flow'rs of Spring will fade.
  The fresh-blown rose like Zeineb's cheek appears,
When pearls, like dewdrops, glitter in her ears.
The charms of youth at once are seen and past,
And nature says, "They are too sweet to last."
So blooms the rose, and so the blushing maid!
Be gay: too soon the flow'rs of Spring will fade.
  See yon anemonies their leaves unfold
With rubies flaming, and with living gold!
While crystal show'rs from weeping clouds descend,
Enjoy the presence of thy tuneful friend.
Now, while the wines are brought, the sofa's laid,
Be gay: too soon the flow'rs of Spring will fade.
    The

  The plants no more are dried, the meadows dead,
No more the rose-bud hangs her pensive head.
The shrubs revive in valleys, meads, and bow'rs,
And ev'ry stalk is diadem'd with flow'rs:
In silken robes each hillock stands array'd.
Be gay: too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.
  Clear drops each morn impearl the rose's bloom,
And from its leave the Zephyr drinks perfume.
The dewy buds expand their lucid store;
Be this our wealth: ye damsels, ask no more.
Though wise men envy, and though fools upbraid,
Be gay: too soon the flow'rs of Spring will fade.
  The dewdrops, sprinkled by the musky gale,
Are chang'd to essence ere they reach the dale.
The mild blue sky a rich pavilion spreads,
Without our labour, o'er our favour'd heads.
Let others toil in war, in arts, or trade.
Be gay: too soon the flow'rs of Spring will fade.
  Late gloomy winter chill'd the sullen air,
Till Soliman arose, and all was fair.
Soft in his reign the notes of love resound,
And pleasure's rosy cup goes freely round.
Here on the bank, which mantling vines o'ershade,
Be gay: too soon the flow'rs of Spring will fade.
  May this rude lay from age to age remain,
A true memorial of this lovely train.
Come, charming maid, and hear thy poet sing,
Thyself the rose, and He the bird of Spring:
Love bids him sing, and Love will be obey'd.
Be gay: too soon the flow'rs of Spring will fade.

We make no doubt but our Readers will, by this time, be highly pleased to read our Author's Imitation of Petrarch, in the following Elegy upon Laura.

IN this fair season, when the whisp'ring gales
Drop show'rs of fragrance o'er the bloomy vales,
From bow'r to bow'r the vernal warblers play;
The skies are cloudless, and the meads are gay;
The nightingale in many a melting strain
Sings to the groves, "Here mirth and beauty reign;"
But me, for ever bath'd in gushing tears,
No mirth enlivens, and no beauty cheers:
The birds that warble, and the flow'rs that bloom,
Relieve no more this solitary gloom.
    I see,