Airrose! whose lively glow the fancy warms, a thousand tranfitory charms; Gay, blushing sweetness; lovely, fragrant thing; Thy rise, thy flourish, and thy fall, I fing.

The vernal sun now, with a brighter ray, Shed o'er the plain a more refulgent day; The dropping clouds their grateful show'rs di

ftill'd;

The genial zephyrs warm'd the happy field,
Unlock'd Earth's fertile womb, so calling forth
The various vegetating tribes to birth;
Now up the rigid veins, in wonted course,
Slowly afcends the vital sap, by force
Absorbent drawn; now here and there appear
The tender buds, and speak the summer near;
And now the fresh unfolding leaves adorn,
With a gay veil of green, the spiky thorn.

The fummer dawns, and now the potent ray
Exalts thy sweets, and calls thee forth to day;
In fragrance rich, in loveliest colours clad,
Thy glowing bosom to the funbeam spread,
Charm'd we behold thee; grateful odours rise,
And on foft-fwelling gales ascend the skies.
Beauteous all o'er the lowly shrub is feen;
The crimfon blossom, and the foliage green,
Smiling with sweet diversity appear,
The brightest glory of the blooming year.

But ah! dear short-liv'd subject of my verse, Why fade thy charms while I their sweets re

hearse?

No more thy leaves drink up the morning-dew; No more thy bright vermilion taint we view; No more a grateful fragrance canst thou boast; Useless thou ly'st, thy every glory loft.

Sweet flower! in thy decay too plain I fee

Th' inevitable fate that waits on me.

Soon shall old-age this healthful bloom destroy,
And waste with rigid hand life's every joy;
Youth's pleasing follies, love's sweet cares be
o'er,

And the once-tuneful muse inspire no more;
Feebler each pulse, and fainter every breath,
Till, with victorious hand, impartial Death,
Severely kind, stop short the doubtful ftrife,
And terminate the long disease of life.

Thou too, my Celia, dear, adored maid!
Ev'n thou (a lovelier though the gode ne'er made)
Muft yield to cruel time's wide-wafting rage,
And feel the preffure of invading age.
But there's a beauty which can time defy;
The beauty of the foul can never die.
While others glory in a matchless face,
Too negligent of each fuperior grace,
Be god-like virtue your peculiar care;
Virtue alone can make divinely fair.

When beauty's charms decay, as foon they

must,

And all its glory's humbled in the duft,
The virtuous mind, beyond the rage of time,
Shall ever blofsom in a happier clime,
Whose never-fading joys no tongue can tell,
Where everlafting youth and beauty dwell;
Where pain and forrow never more shall move,
But all is pleasure, harmony, and love.

Bofom traytor! pinching harm! Wounding me who kept thee warm! Thro' my skin thou scatter'st pains, Crimfon'd o'er with circling stains. Skipping mischief! fwift as thought! Sanguine infect! - art thou caught! Nought avail thy nimble springs;

Those thy teeth that cheat our ight
Cease their titillating bite,
I, from all thy vengeance freed,
Safe shall fleep, and cease to bleed.

A New

vine

Can tell how many) and thy fate is mine,
Should lively vigour for a while remain,
Vor by pale fickness hurt, nor racking pain,

:

E

ODE to the ATHEIST.

Xpatiate long in nice debate,
On chance, neceffity, and fate;

With learn'd Lucretius stray

In Epicurus' magic grove,
Where the felf-motion'd atoms rove

In mazy mystic play.

Some vain hypothefis admit,
The specious cobweb-work of wit;
And daringly deny
What every object round avows,
What every act of reason shews,
An all-wife Deity.

The cleareft evidence contest,
Divinely stamp'd on ev'ry breast,
Since time was taught to roll;
In error's gloomy coverts stray,
From truth's indisputable ray
Remote, as pole from pole.

So fhuts the moping bird of night
Her feeble eyes against the light,
That glads the chearful day;
And, when prevailing darkness reigns,
Thro' groves obscene, or dreary plains,
She wings her dubious way.

Consult the blue expanse on high, The blush that paints the morning sky, ☑ The cloud that nimbly rides, - The orbs that mark with lustre bright The spangled mantle of the night, - Who there fupreme refides.

Question the gaudy flow'rs around,
That scent the air, or paint the ground,

3

Whose influence they obey;
Whose hand imparts the various dyes,
At whose command they bud and rife,
At whose command decay.

Say ye, on down, or mountain steep,
That stately tread, or lowly creep,

And ye aërial throng;

That chear the woodland scene and fields With vocal strains; whose bounty yields Or fuftenance or fong.

Who, in the ocean's waste domain,
The tenants of the wat'ry plain
With liberal hand supplies?
The floods in icy fetters binds,
Smooths the rough furge, and lulls the winds,
Or bids the tempeft rise?

Nature in every mystic scene
Declares a plastic author's reign:

Above the morning's wings,
Beyond the fea's remotest tides,
Beneath the deedal earth refides
Th' Almighty King of Kings.

M

A SOLILOQUY.
Ysterious inmate of this breaft,
Inkindled by thy flame;
By thee my being's best expreft,
For what thou art I am.

With thee 1 claim celestial birth,
A fpark of Heav'n's own ray;
Without thee sink to, vileft earth,
Inanimated clay.

Now, in this fad and dismal hour
Of multiply'd distress,
Has any former thought the pow'r
To make thy forrows less?

When all around thee cruel (nares

Threaten thy destin'd breath,
And every sharp reflection bears
Want, exile, chains, or death.

Can aught that past in youth's fond reign

Thy pleasing vein restore?
Lives beauty's gay and feftive train
In memory's foft store?

Or does the mufe? 'Tis faid her art.
Can fierceft

pangs appease,
Can she to thy poor trembling heart
Now speak the words of peace?

Yet she was wont at early dawn
To whisper thy repose,
Nor was her friendly aid withdrawn
At grateful ev'ning's close.

Friendship, 'tis true, its facred might
May mitigate thy doom;
As lightning shot across the night,
A moment gilds the gloom.

O God! thy providence alone
Can work a wonder here,
Can change to gladness every moan,
And banish all my fear.

Thy arm, all-powerful to save,

May every doubt destroy;

And, from the horrors of the grave,

New raise to life and joy.

Fron

F

ROM the success of the method of propagation by small pieces of the branches of trees, it is natural to conceive, that fmaller or larger pieces of the roots will anfwer the purpose; and reason is very fairly on the fide of the experiment. We fee that 100ts, wherever they reach the furface of the ground, shoot up into young trees; and we ind, by manifold experience and observation, that the difference between roots and branches is little more in nature, than that the one are buried under ground, the other kept above it. This new method of propagation depends upon one principle, namely, that the rudiments of new plants are lodged in all parts of the old, and are ready to grow, from them to perfection, whenever they have proper advantages; therefore it should appear to reason, that, if a piece of a root can be kept from decaying in the earth, it will produce

one or more new plants. This I proposed to try by the following experiment :

November 3, 1759, I raised carefully, by opening the ground, a large horizontal root of the willow-leaved buckthorn: I trimmed off all the side shoots; and, cutting the two ends smooth, wiped them perfectly dry, and covered them with the dreffing, [of which the reader may fee the process in the above referred to Magazine, page 196] all over the raw parts; not only the two ends, but the several places also from whence I had cut the fide shoots and large fibres. I opened a trench in a bed in the nursery, long enough to receive the whole piece, and laid it in horizontally, and covered it an inch deep with mould, not raifing a ridge over it, but keeping the place on a level with the rest of the bed.

April 12, I examined this ground, and