ED TO
RS.
H------Y.
IN early youth's unclouded scene,
The brilliant morning of eighteen,
With health and sprightly joy
We gazed on life's enchanting spring ,
Nor thought how quickly time would
The mournful period--Thirty-eight.
Then the starch maid, or matron sage,
Already at the sober age,
We view'd with mingled scorn and hate;
In whose sharp words, or sharper face,
With thoughtless mirth we loved to
The sad effects of--Thirty-eight.
Till saddening, sickening at the
We learn'd to dread what Time might do;
And then preferr'd a prayer to
To end our days ere that arrived;
When (power and pleasure long survived)We met neglect and--Thirty-eight.
But time, in spite of wishes,
And Fate our simple prayer denies,
And bids us death's own hour await:
The auburn locks are mix'd with grey,
The transient roses fade away,
But reason comes at--Thirty-eight. Her voice the anguish
That dying vanity inflicts;
Her hand new pleasures can create,
For us she opens to the
Prospects less bright--but far more true,
And bids us smile at--Thirty-eight.
No more shall scandal's breath
The social converse we
With bard or critic tete a tete;--O'er youth's bright blooms her blights shall pour,
But spare the improving friendly
That science gives to --Thirty-eight.
Stripp'd of their gaudy hues by Truth,
We view the glitt'ring toys of youth,
And blush to think how poor the
For which to public scenes we
And scorn'd of sober sense the
Which gives content at--Thirty-eight.
Though Time's inexorable
Has torn the myrtle bands away,
For other wreaths 'tis not too late,
The amaranth's purple glow survives,
And still Minerva's olive
On the calm brow of--Thirty-eight.
With eye more steady we
To contemplate approaching age,
And life more justly estimate;
With firmer souls, and stronger powers,
With reason, faith, and friendship ours,
We'll not regret the stealing
That lead from Thirty--even to Forty-eight.
