[C] "O'er thy creative scene." The Peruvians have solemn days on which they a.s.sume their antient dress. Some among them represent a tragedy, the subject of which is the death of Atabalipa. The audience, who begin with shedding tears, are afterwards transported, into a kind of madness. It seldom happens in these festivals, but that some Spaniard is slain.--_Abbe_ Raynal's _History_.

[D] "On Chili's plain."--An Indian descended from the Inca's, has lately obtained several victories over the Spaniards, the gold mines have been for some time shut up; and there is much reason to hope, that these injured nations may recover the liberty of which they have been so cruelly deprived.

SONNET,

To MRS. SIDDONS.

Siddons! the Muse, for many a joy refin'd, Feelings which ever seem too swiftly fled-- For those delicious tears she loves to shed, Around thy brow the wreath of praise would bind-- But can her feeble notes thy praise unfold?

Repeat the tones each changing pa.s.sion gives, Or mark where nature in thy action lives, Where, in thy pause, she speaks a pang untold!

When fierce ambition steels thy daring breast, When from thy frantic look our glance recedes; Or oh, divine enthusiast! when opprest By anxious love, that eye of softness pleads-- The sun-beam all can feel, but who can trace The instant light, and catch the radiant grace!

QUEEN MARY'S

COMPLAINT.

I.

Pale moon! thy mild benignant light May glad some other captive's sight; Bright'ning the gloomy objects nigh, Thy beams a lenient thought supply: But, oh, pale moon! what ray of thine Can sooth a misery like mine!

Chase the sad image of the past, And woes for ever doom'd to last.

II.

Where are the years with pleasure gay?

How bright their course! how short their stay!-- Where are the crowns, that round my head A double glory vainly spread?

Where are the beauties wont to move, The grace, converting awe to love?

Alas, had fate design'd to bless, Its equal hand had giv'n me less!

III.

Why did the regal garb array A breast that tender pa.s.sions sway?

A soul of unsuspicious frame, Which leans with faith on friendship's name-- Ye vanish'd hopes! ye broken ties!

By perfidy, in friendship's guise, This breast was injur'd, lost, betray'd-- Where, where shall Mary look for aid?

IV.

How could I hope redress to find Stern rival! from thy envious mind?

How could I e'er thy words believe?

O ever practis'd to deceive!

Thy wiles abhorr'd shall please alone Cold bosoms, selfish as thy own; While ages hence, indignant hear The horrors of my fate severe.

V.

Have not thy unrelenting hands Torn nature's most endearing bands?

Whate'er I hop'd from woman's name, The ties of blood, the stranger's claim; A sister-queen's despairing breast On thee securely lean'd for rest; On thee! from whom that breast has bled With sharper ills than those I fled,

VI.

Oh, skill'd in every baser art!

Tyrant! to this unguarded heart No guilt so black as thine belongs, Which loads my length'ning years with wrongs.

Strike then at once, insatiate foe!

The long, premeditated blow; So shall thy jealous terrors cease, And Mary's harra.s.s'd soul have peace.

EUPHELIA,

AN ELEGY.

As roam'd a pilgrim o'er the mountain drear, On whose lone verge the foaming billows roar; The wail of hopeless sorrow pierc'd his ear, And swell'd at distance on the sounding sh.o.r.e.

The mourner breath'd her deep complaint to night, Her moan she mingled with the rapid blast; That bar'd her bosom in its wasting flight, And o'er the earth her scatter'd tresses cast!

"Ye winds, she cried, still heave the lab'ring deep, "The mountain shake, the howling forest rend; "Still dash the shiv'ring fragment from the steep, "Nor for a wretch like me the storm suspend.

"Ah, wherefore wish the rising storm to spare?

"Ah, why implore the raging winds to save?

"What refuge can the breast where lives despair "Desire but death? what shelter but the grave?

"To me congenial is the gloom of night, "The savage howlings that infest the air; "I unappall'd can view the fatal light, "That flashes from the pointed lightning's glare.

"And yet erewhile, if night her shadows threw "O'er the known woodlands of my native vale; "Fancy in visions wild the landscape drew, "And swelled with boding sounds the whisp'ring gale.

"But deep despair has arm'd my timid soul, "And agony has numb'd the throb of fear; "Taught a weak heart its terrors to controul, "And more to court than shun the danger near.

"Yet could I welcome the return of light, "Its glim'ring beam might guide my searching eye, "The sacred spot might then emerge from night, "On which a lover's bleeding relicks lie!

"For sure 'twas here, as late a shepherd stray'd "Bewilder'd, o'er the mountain's dreary bound, "Close to the pointed cliff he saw him laid, "Where heav'd the waters of the deep around.

"Alas, no longer could his heart endure "The woes that heart was doom'd for me to prove: "He sought for death--for death the only cure, "That fate can give to vain, and hopeless love."

"My sire, unjust, while pa.s.sion swell'd his breast, "From the lov'd Alfred his Euphelia tore; "Mock'd the keen sorrows that my soul opprest, "And bade me, vainly bade me love no more!

"He told me love, was like yon' troubled deep, "Whose restless billows never know repose; "Are wildly dash'd upon the rocky steep, "And tremble to the lightest breeze that blows!

"From these rude storms remote, her gentle balm, "Dear to the suff'ring spirit, peace applies"-- Peace! 'tis th' oblivious lake's detested calm Whose dull, slow waters never fall or rise.

"Ah, what avails a parent's stern command, "The force of conq'ring pa.s.sion to subdue?

"And wherefore seek to rend, with cruel hand, "The ties enchanted love so fondly drew!

"Yet I could see my Alfred's fix'd despair, "And aw'd by filial fear conceal my woes; "My coward heart cou'd separation bear, "And check the struggling anguish as it rose!