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58

POEMS ON

" Ah ! take this wretched life you deign'd to save,
" With them I too am carried to the grave.
" Rejoice triumphant, mu victorious foe,   185
" But show the cause from whence your triumphs flow?
" Tho' I unhappy mourn these children slain,
" Yet greater numbers to my lot remain."
She ceas'd, the bow-string twang'd with awful sound,
Which struck with terror all th' assembly round,   190
Except the queen, who stood unmov'd alone,
By her distresses more presumptuous grown.
Near the pale corses stood their sisters fair
In sable vestures and dishevell'd hair;
One, while she draws the fatal shaft away,   195
Faints, falls, and sickens at the light of day.
To sooth her mother, lo! another flies, 
And blames the fury of inclement skies,
And, while her words a filial pity show,
Struck dumb--indignant seeks the shades below.   200
Now from the fatal place another flies,
Falls in her flight, and languishes, and dies.
Another on her sister drops in death;
A fifth in trembling terror yields her breath;
While the sixth seeks some gloomy cave in  vain,   205
Struck with the rest, and mingled with the slain.
One only daughter lives, and she the least;
The queen close clasp'd the daughter to her breast:
" Ye heav'nly pow'rs, ah! spare me one," she cry'd,
" Ah! spare me one," the vocal hills reply'd:   210
In vain she begs, the Fates her suit deny,
In her embrace she sees her daughter die.
* " The queen of all her family bereft, 
" Without or husband, son, or daughter left,
" Grew stupid at the shock.  The passing air   215
" Made no impression on her stiff'ning hair.

" The

[[footnote]]* This Verse to the End is the Work of another Hand.[[/footnote]]

59

VARIOUS SUBJECTS.

" The blood forsook her face: amidst the flood
" Pour'd from her cheeks, quite fix'd her eye-ball,
" stood.
" Her tongue, her palate both obdurate grew,
" Her curdled veins no longer motion knew;   220
" The use of neck, and arms, and feet was gone,
" And ev'n her bowels hard'ned into stone:
" A marble statue now the queen appears,
" But from the marble steal the silent tears."

To S. M. a young African Painter, on seeing his Works.

To show the lab'ring bosom's deep intent,
And thought in living characters to paint,
When first thy pencil did those beauties give,
And breathing figures learnt from thee to live,
How did those prospects give my soul delight,   5
A new creation rushing on my sight?
Still, wond'rous youth! each noble path pursue,
On deathless glories fix thine ardent view:
Still may the painter's and the poet's fire
To aid thy pencil, and thy verse conspire!   10
And may the charms of each seraphic theme 
Conduct thy footsteps to immortal fame!
High to the blissful wonders of the skies
Elate thy soul, and raise thy wishful eyes.
Thrice happy when exalted to survey   15
That splendid city, crown'd with endless day,
Whose twice six gates on radiant hinges ring:
Celestial Salem blooms in endless spring.
Calm and serene thy moments glide along,
And may the muse inspire each future song!   20
Still, with the sweets of contemplation bless'd,
May peace with balmy wings your soul invest!

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