II.

Ah! who would taste your self-deluding joys,
That lure the unwary to a wretched doom,

That bid fair views and flattering hopes arise,
Then hurl them headlong to a lasting tomb?
What is the charm which leads thy victims on
To persevere in paths that lead to woe?
What can induce them in that route to go,
In which innumerous before have gone,
And died in misery, poor and woe-begone.

III.

Yet can I ask what charms in thee are found;

I, who have drank from thine etherial rill,

And tasted all the pleasures that abound

Upon Parnassus, lov'd Aonian hill ?

I, through whose soul the Muses' strains aye thrill! Oh! I do feel the spell with which I'm tied;

And though our annals fearful stories tell, How Savage languish'd, and how Otway died, Yet must I persevere, let whate'er will betide.

TO LOVE.

.I.

WHY should I blush to own I love?
'Tis Love that rules the realms above.
Why should I blush to say to all,
That Virtue holds my heart in thrall?

II.

Why should I seek the thickest shade, Lest Love's dear secret be betrayed? Why the stern brow deceitful move, When I am languishing with love?

III.

Is it weakness thus to dwell
On passion that I dare not tell ?
Such weakness I would ever prove :
'Tis painful, though 'tis sweet, to love.

THE WANDERING BOY,

A SONG.

I.

WHEN the winter wind whistles along the wild moor, And the cottager shuts on the beggar his door; When the chilling tear stands in my comfortless eye, Oh, how hard is the lot of the Wandering Boy!

II.

The winter is cold, and I have no vest,

And my heart it is cold as it beats in my breast;
No father, no mother, no kindred have I,

For I am a parentless Wandering Boy.

III.

Yet I had a home, and I once had a sire,

A mother who granted each infant desire;
Our cottage it stood in a wood-embower'd vale,
Where the ring-dove would warble its sorrowful tale.

IV.

But my father and mother were summon'd away,
And they left me to hard-hearted strangers a prey;
I fled from their rigour with many a sigh,
And now I'm a poor little Wandering Boy.

TO LOVE.

.I.

WHY should I blush to own I love ?. "Tis Love that rules the realms above. Why should I blush to say to all, That Virtue holds my heart in thrall?

II.

Why should I seek the thickest shade, Lest Love's dear secret be betrayed? Why the stern brow deceitful move, When I am languishing with love?

III.

Is it weakness thus to dwell

On passion that I dare not tell? Such weakness I would ever prove : 'Tis painful, though 'tis sweet, to love.

THE WANDERING BOY,

A SONG.

I.

WHEN the winter wind whistles along the wild moor, And the cottager shuts on the beggar his door; When the chilling tear stands in my comfortless eye, Oh, how hard is the lot of the Wandering Boy!

II.

The winter is cold, and I have no vest,

And my heart it is cold as it beats in my breast;
No father, no mother, no kindred have I,

For I am a parentless Wandering Boy.

III.

Yet I had a home, and I once had a sire,

A mother who granted each infant desire;
Our cottage it stood in a wood-embower'd vale,
Where the ring-dove would warble its sorrowful tale.

IV.

But my father and mother were summon'd away,
And they left me to hard-hearted strangers a prey;
I fled from their rigour with many a sigh,
And now I'm a poor little Wandering Boy.