BREATHING the violet-scented gale,
Near to a river's limpid source,
Which, through a wide-extended vale,
Wound slowly on its sleeping course,
Farewell, my pilgrim guest, farewell,
A few days since thou wert unknown,
None shall thy future fortunes tell,
NOW spring appears, with beauty crown'd,
And all is light and life around,
Why comes not Jane? When friendship calls,
Hope has her emblem, so has Love,
But I have vainly sought
For one, that might entirely prove
Since I married Palemon, though happy my lot,
Though my garden is pleasant, and lightsome my cot,
The guests are met, the feast is near,
But Marie does not yet appear!
And to her vacant seat on high
Is lifted many an anxious eye.
THE beauteous queen of social love,
Descending from the realms above,
Through the wide space of ether flew,
O bend thy head, sweet morning flow'r!
And look not up so fresh and bright!
The keen, harsh wind, the heavy show'r,
A lov'd companion, chosen friend,
Does at this hour depart,
Whom the dear name of father binds
Still closer to my heart.
HAIL, melancholy sage! whose thoughtful eye,
Shrunk from the mere spectator's careless gaze,
And, in retirement sought the social smile,