h,
And learn'd to scorn the fear of death.
In halls where martial trophies hung,
They listen'd while the minstrels sung,
Of pain and glory, toil and care,
And all the horrid charms of war:
There caught the fond desire of fame,
And panted for a hero's name.
Alas! too oft in youthful bloom,
Renown has crown'd the early tomb,
Has pierc'd the widow's bosom deep,
And taught the mother's eyes to weep.
She, on whose tale the stripling hung,
While pride and sorrow rul'd her tongue.
His father's gallant acts to tell,
How bold he fought, how bravely fell.

Methinks e'en now I hear her speak,
I see the tear upon her cheek;
The musing boy's abstracted brow,
And the high-arching eye below.
The stifled sigh and anxious heave,
The kindling heart which dares not grieve;
The finely-elevated head,
The hand upon the bosom spread,
Proclaim him wrought by potent charms,
And speak his very soul in arms.

Incautious zeal! what hast thou done?
The tale has robb'd thee of thy son.
And while thy pious tears deplore,
The loss of him who lives no more,
Ambition wakes her restless fire,
The boy will emulate his sire,

* * * * *

_Written April the 18th, 1796_

The beauteous queen of social love,
Descending from the realms above,
Through the wide space of ether flew,
With care this little world to view,
Till, tir'd with wandering, at the last,
Through every different climate past,
She sought not out a splendid dome,
But made this humble cot her home.

The sweetest lyre would strive in vain,
To sing the pleasures of her reign,
Whose powerful influence does impart,
New softness to the feeling heart,
Bids it each narrow thought resign,
And fills it with a warmth benign.

From morning till the close of day,
Here all a grateful homage pay,
For here she plays her harmless wiles,
And scatters her endearing smiles;
Here no proud rivals intervene,
And all, though glowing, is serene.
Here, since she first her visit paid,
Still has the sweet enchantress staid,
And never met a single slight,
Or spread her snowy plumes for flight.

Contented 'neath the humble roof;
No timid heart is kept aloof;
A kind and condescending guest,
She lightens each despairing breast;
Where pain her poignant venom spreads,
The balm of tenderness she sheds,
Which breathes a calm repose around,
And heals at last the burning wound.

When the heart throbs with bitter woe,
Her winning mien disarms the foe,
And t