EVENING.

IN clouds drew on the evening's close,
 Which cross the west in ranges stood,
 As pensive GERTRUDE sought the wood,
 And there the darkest thicket chose;
 While from her eyes amid the wild briar flows
 A sad and briny flood. 
Dark o'er her head
 Roll'd heavy clouds, while showers,
 Pefum'd by summer's wild and spicy flowers,
 Their ample torrents shed. 

Why does she mourn? 
Why droop, like flowret nipp'd in early spring? 
Alas! her tenderness meets no return! 
Love hovers round her with his airy wing,
 And warms her youthful heart with vain delight:
 While URBAN's graceful form enchants her sight,
 And from his eyes shoots forth the poisonous sting,
 Another's charms th' impassion'd youth imspir'd,
 The sportive ROSAMONDE his genius fir'd. 

The drops which glide down GERTRUDE'S cheeks,
 Mid bitter agonies did flow;
 And though awhile her pallid lips might glow,
 'Twas as a blossom blighted soon with woe:
 Her disregarded tresses, wet with tears,
 Hung o'er her panting bosom straight and sleek;
 Her faithful heart was all despondency and fears. 

The skies disgorg'd, their last large drops refrain,
 The cloudy hemisphere's no more perturb'd;
 The leafy boughs, that had receiv'd the rain,
 With gusts of wind disturb'd,
 Shake wild their scattering drops o'er glade and plain;
 They fall on GERTRUDE'S breast, and her white garments stain. 
Sighing, she threw her mantle o'er her head,
 And through the brakes towards her mansion sped;
 Unheedingly her vestments drew along,
 Sweeping the tears that to the branches hung:
 And as she pass'd
 O'er the soak'd road, from off the shining grass,
 In clods around her feet the moist earth clung. 

The clouds dispers'd, again to sight
 The evening sun glow'd lambent bright;
 And forcing back the lowering shades,
 Spread its enlivening beams, and kindled mid the glades:
 With high-wrought verdure every object glow'd,
 And purple hills their glittering mansions show'd. 
The universal gleam invites to sport,
 For toil and care cease with the ebbing day;
 Th' industrious youths to plains or groves resort,
 Dance on the lawn, or o'er the hillocks stray. 

GERTRUDE, wandering up a lane,
 From among the winding trees,
 Fann'd by a refreshing breeze,
 Ascends upon the glistening plain. 
Across gay Iris flung her bow,
 Reflecting each celestial ray;
 As if the flowers that deck'd the May
 Were there exhal'd, and through its watery pores did glow. 

From a fair covert, URBAN'S gay resort,
 A whistling pipe in warbling notes respir'd;
 The well-known sound invites each youth to sport,
 And every heart its harmony inspir'd;
 While from each mead,
 So thick with daisies spread,
 The bounding nymphs with fairy lightness sprung,
 And gayly wild their sportive sonnets sung;
 The air was scented by the odorous flowers,
 Bright sprinkled with the dew of fresh-fall'n show'rs. 

Of lively grace, and dimpled smiles,
 Slim CYNTHIA, the refin'd,
 Came, with neat PHILLIS, full of tricksome wiles;
 While SILVIUS stroll'd behind,
 Chas'd by the marble-hearted ROSALIND:
 The loud and witty large-mouth'd MADGE,
 With her obsequious servant HODGE. 

Blythe from the mill, which briskly turning round
 Made the young zephyrs breathe a rural sound,
 Leap'd CHARLES, gay glowing with industrious heat,
 Active to lead in every rustic feat:
 Back from his brows he shook his wavy locks,
 And turning quick his lively eyes,
 His lovely, modest PEGGY spies,
 Returning with her aged father's flocks. 
Straight with his hand he gave his heart sincere,
 Devoid of order danc'd, and whistled loud and clear. 

HEBE, a blooming, sprightly fair,
 With shallow HED, an ill-match'd pair;
 Simple DAPHNE, rosy JOHN,
 And ever-blundering HELESON:
 From a large mansion, gloom'd by shading trees,
 Forth sprung the star-ey'd LUISSE;
 Graceful her tresses flow'd around,
 Like scatter'd clouds, that catch the moon's pale beams;
 Scarcely she seem'd to touch the verdant ground,
 But, as inspired, along the plain she streams. 
More join the flock; - they spring in air,
 Light as wing'd doves, and like to doves they pair;
 The sun's last ray now linger'd o'er their head,
 And sweets delectable around were spread. 

Poor GERTRUDE, hid amongst the trees, survey'd
 Each ardent youth, each blooming maid;
 And as she gaz'd,
 Pleasure by slow degrees within her senses steals:
 Her eyes, with tears impearl'd, she rais'd,
 Her heart each sweet sensation feels;
 Lightly her feet the grassy meadows tread,
 While music's power deludes her from her cares;
 Among the nymphs, by its soft influence led,
 Her sympathetic breast their raptures shares. 

Thus while she felt, and join'd the lively throng,
 Lo! quick ascends the plain
 The glory of each swain,
 URBAN, with sportive song,
 Whose chearful notes in frolic measures fled;
 While ROSAMONDE,
 Fleet-footed, glowing ROSAMONDE, he led:
 The rapture of the lark her voice sent forth,
 Too well, ah! GERTRUDE knew its worth;

Dire tremblings soon her spirits seize:
 Could she, vain untaught nymph, aspire to please? 
Her body owns no grace,
 No smiles, no dimples, deck her eyes or face:
 She feels that she has nought to prize;
 Yet, totally devoid of art,
 Expression's charm was her's, with beaming eyes,
 A voice far-reaching, and a feeling heart. 

She turn'd around -
 The flying breezes loosen'd to the air
 Her ill-beseeming vests, her scatter'd hair:
 So sad she look'd, so artless was her woe,
 As from a thinking mind had drawn a tear;
 But joy through every vein had stole,
 And mirth shut out the sympathetic glow. 
The heart's gay dance admits of no controul,
 Sweet joys but seldom through our senses steal;
 Tis pity then we should forget to feel. 

Gay wicked wit amid the circles spread,
 And wanton round the lively sallies sped;
 Each neat-trimm'd maiden laugh'd with playful glee,
 Whom whispering swains divert with mimickry. 
Fair ROSAMONDE, whose rival bosom burn'd,
 With taunting mirth directs young URBAN'S eyes;
 He, with mischievous archness, smiles return'd,
 Amid whose circles wounding satires rise;
 Their sportive feet still beat the flowery ground,
 While wicked looks, and jests, and jeers went round. 

Pierc'd by their insults, stung with bitter smart,
 Sad fell poor GERTRUDE'S tears, high heav'd her heart. 
Distant she flew, and siting on a stone,
 Conceal'd, gave sorrow vent, and wept alone:
 Till 'mid her grief, a virtuous just disdain
 Came to her aid, and made her bosom glow;
 With shame she burns, she blushes at her woe,
 And wonders at her weakness and her pain. 

 "Unhappy maid!" she cry'd, "thou art to blame,
" Thus to expose thy virtuous breast to shame:
 "Poor heart! thy love is laugh'd at for its truth;
" Yet 'tis a holy treasure, though disdain'd,
 "And wantonly by thoughtlessness profan'd;
" Ah! why then waste the blessings of thy youth? 
 "No more fair reason's sacred light despise;
" Thy heart may blessings find
 "That dwell not in the eyes,
" But in the virtues of the feeling mind. "