CASTLE OF FANCY.

In the region of clouds, where the whirlwinds arise,
My castle of fancy was built,

The turrets reflected the blue of the skies,
And the windows with sunbeams were gilt.

The rainbow sometimes in its beautiful state,
Enamell'd the mansion around,

And the figures that fancy in clouds can create,
Supplied me with garden and ground.

I had grottos, and fountains, and orange tree groves,
I had all that enchantment has told,

I had sweet shady seats for the gods and their loves,
I had mountains of coral and gold.

But a storm, that I felt not, had risen and rolled,
While wrapp'd in a slumber I lay,

And when I wak'd up in the morning, behold,
My castle was carried away.

It pass'd over rivers, and mountains, and groves,
The world, it was all in my view,

I thought of my friends, of their fates and their loves,
And often, full often, of you.

At length it came over a beautiful scene,
Which nature in silence had made,

The place was but sinall, but 'twas sweetly serene,
And chequered with sunshine and shade.

I gazed and I envied with painful good will,

And grew tired of my seat in the air, When all on a sudden my castle stood still, As if some attraction were there.

Like a bird in the air it came fluttering down,

And plac'd me exactly in view,

And whom should I meet in this charming retreat, This corner of calmness but you.

Rejoiced to find you in honor and ease,
I felt no more sorrow or pain,

The wind blowing fair, I ascended the breeze
And went back with my castle again.

MR. COOK'S ADDRESS ON THE PHILADELPHIA STAGE. While from Erin remote, where an iufant I've play'd, And remote from the white-clifft Brittania, I roam, In this freedom-blest clime, where a stranger I've stray'd,

I have found all the sweets and endearments of home.

I have found truth and friendship ennobling the mind,
In the soul I have found hospitality's glow,
Wit, learning, and taste, brilliant, deep, and refin'd,
With all that from science and virtue can flow.

Nor unjust let me be to the fame of the fair,
To that beauty so radiant that breaks on my sight,
Which might light up a smile on the brow of despair,
As it sparkles around like the gems of the night.

Such charms have I found in sweet unison join'd, Through the land where my wandering footsteps have led,

From the lofty, whose brows are with honors intwin'd,
To the lowly, who tenant the cottage or shed,

But to me here* the choicest of treasures I've found,
That treasure my soul never ceases to prize,
"Tis the plaudits commingling, that generously sound,
From the boxes, the pit, and yon gods in the skies !†

Those plaudits hath gratitude register'd here,t
Over which oft shall memory breathe a fond sigh,
And soft sensibility gem with a tear,

As pure as a dewdrop from beauty's moist eye.

R

On the Philadelphia stage.
On the tablet of my heart.

+ The gallery.

Even when towards bright Albion I glide on the gale,
Though terror should rise in his ghastliest form;
Though tempests pursue me and thunders assail,
The remembrance will sooth 'mid the roar of the
storm.

But will you say?-will you, when far over sea, The friends of my youth to revisit I fly,

Will you still in your breasts cherish kindness for me?
And sometimes remember my name with a sigh?

Farewell; generous patrons !-I'm no actor here*
Reality swells while I bid you adieu!

Long may Hamlets, Othellos, and Richards appear,
Of Shakspeare still worthy, and worthy of you.

WINDSOR,

Waft me, some soft and cooling breeze
To Windsor's shady kind retreat,

Where sylvan scenes, wide spreading trees,
Repel the raging dog-star's heat..

Where tufted grass and mossy beds
Afford a rural calm repose;

Where woodbines hang their dewy heads,

And fragrant sweets around disclose.

Old oozy Thames that flows fast by,
Along the smiling valley plays;
His glassy surface cheers the eye,
And through the flowery meadow strays.

His fertile banks with herbage green,
His vales with smiling plenty swell,
Where'er his purer stream is seen,
The gods of health and pleasure dwell..

Let me, thy clear, thy yielding wave,
With naked arm once more divide,

* In my heart.

In thee, my glowing bosom lave,
And stem thy gently rolling tide.

Lay me, with damask roses crown'd,
Beneath some ozier's dusky shade,
Where water lilies paint the ground,
And bubbling springs refresh the glade.

Let Clarinda too be there,

With azure mantle lightly drest,
Ye nymphs, bind up her silken hair,
Ye zephyrs, fan her panting breast.

haste away, fair maid, and bring
The muse, the kindly friend to love,
To thee, alone, the muse shall sing,
And warble through the vocal grove.

SONNET FROM PETRARCH.

Nor stars that roll on high their wand'ring train,
Nor barks that glide along the glassy flood,
Nor warriors, blazing on the tented plain,
Nor deer gay bounding through the gloomy wood,
Nor tidings that delight the longing breast,
Nor dulcet warblings of the love tun'd lyre,
Nor limpid founts, nor meads in verdure drest,
Made vocal by the virgin's beauteous quire,
Nor aught besides my grief-worn heart can prize,
Since she, the light and mirror of my eyes,
Sleeps in the dust. By speechless woes impell'd,
I call for death, blest bound'ry to my pain,
Still panting to behold those charms again,
Which, ah! 'twere best I never had beheld!

THE JOY OF GRIEF.

Sweet the hour of tribulation.
When the heart can freely sigh:

And the tear of resignation
Twinkles in the mournful eye..

Have you felt a kind émotion

Tremble through your troubled breast, Soft as evening o'er the ocean,

When she charms the waves to rest?

Have you lost a friend, a brother?
Heard a father's parting breath ?
Gazed upon a lifeless mother

Till she seem'd to wake from death?

view P

Have you felt a spouse expiring
In your arms, before your
Watch'd the lovely soul retiing
From her eyes, that broke on you ?_

Did not grief then grow romantic,
Raving on remember'd bliss ?
Did you not with fervor frantic,
Kiss the lips that felt no kiss.

Yes! but when you had resign'd her,
Life and you were reconciled;
Anna left-she left behind her,
One, one dear, one only child.

But before the green moss peeping,
His poor mother's grave array'd,
In that grave, the infant sleeping
On the mother's lap was laid.

Horror, then, your heart congealing
Chill'd you with intense despair;
Can you recollect the feeling?

No! there was no feeling there!

From that gloomy trance of sorrow, When you woke to pangs unknown,