apt height,
They hide the craggy dell;
And I hastened thro' the waves of night,
The tidings of war to tell."

THE EXILE:

A POEM.

--Superanda omnis fortuna ferendo est.

'Twas night: the stars denied one cheering ray,
And wrapp'd in clouds the lunar splendours lay.
No lightest zephyr brush'd the silent floods,
Or swept the bosom of the lofty woods:
Each human heart the general calm confess'd;
The childless sire had hush'd his cares to rest:
And he, the victim of his country's laws,
The base deserter of her awful cause,
Whose eyes no more in earthly sleep shall close, }
Yet sunk oppress'd, and drank in calm repose }
A short, a deep oblivion of his woes. }

Diffusing verdure o'er a lonely glade,
A fountain with eternal murmurs play'd:
Hard by, an ancient forest's leafy brow
Cast a brown horror o'er the stream below,
On the green margin of the quiet flood,
With looks of woe, a time-worn Exile stood:
On the dim wave he cast a gloomy look,
Then thus in low and troubled accents spoke:

"Dear native stream! and thou, thrice happy lawn!
Where once I roved, in youth's first joyous dawn,
While every wind a holy silence kept,
And peaceful on the flood the sunbeam slept:
I now return, and ask of your kind wave
The last unenvied gift, a quiet grave!
From scene to scene of varied misery toss'd,
Each hope, each joy, each cheerful prospect lost,
With cares and labours many a year oppress'd,
I hail the dawn of everlasting rest!
Tho' worn with sufferings, my distracted soul
Scarce bows to former reason's firm controul,
Ere yet I sink to death's secure repose,
Once more let me retrace my ancient woes,
And count those various pangs, which now shall cease
In the calm bosom of unchanging peace.

"Smooth roll'd my vernal years, while on my head
Fate's early smiles a meteor-lustre shed.
No painful fear, no troubles, then had power
To break the current of one peaceful hour.
Oft as I trod the meadow's verdant round,
Or pierced the echoing forest's gloomy bound,
Or traced the willowy margin of the stream,
Lost in the wildering maze of Fancy's dream,
Before me Life's long years in prospect rose,
By fears unbroken, undisturb'd by woes.
Yes! I remember well,--my dizzy brain
Feels those bright