Poems on different occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

The new-year comes with gentle pace,
Thro' heav'n's fair signs to run his race,
And from his ample store to fling
The minutes flitting on swift wing;
The hours, the days, and order gay
Of seasons hast'ning on their way.

The race of mortals who in vain
Thro' many a year of care and pain
Have strove these blessings to possess,
That flying still refuse to bless,
Not wearied by their fruitless care,
Again to urge the chace prepare;
And hope that all their labours past
The coming year shall pay at last.

The statesman now to pow'r more near,
Foresees that this approaching year
Shall raise him soon to honours due,
And prove his dreams of greatness true.
The soldier, smit with love of fame,
In fancy now attains that name,
Which former years, by prayers oft try'd,
Less kind, have to his suit deny'd.
The merchant, whose fond hope of gain,
The angry sky and rolling main
Have long conspired to defeat,
Welcomes the year that shall complete
His golden schemes, and quits the shore
The climes of India to explore.

Nurtur'd to tread life's humble vale,
Too weak the dangerous cliffs to scale,
On whose high top power builds her seat,
With no vain wishes to be great,
I see the year his course renew;
Careless among her favour'd few,

That Fame to rank me should delight,
I shall not sigh when with swift flight
The seasons and the months are flown,
If still to Fame I rest unknown:
Nor shall I, tho' of shining treasure,
Fortune, that deals to some full measure,
To me a slender share allow,
Sollicit with too anxious vow
The year bright-opening to repair
The slights of Fortune, wayward fair,
And pour for me, in ample stores,
The gold from rich Peruvian shores.

Far other thoughts and wishes move
This breast, the temple where pure love
His holiest flames has kindled bright:
When a new year his silent flight,
Prepares now through the months to take,
With anxious vow my prayer I make,
That 'ere the year with silent pace
Shall thro' the months complete his race,
Fair Delia, too disdaining maid,
Who has so long my passion paid

With cold reserve and stately pride,
May less with scornful look deride;
And less with words severe reprove
My proffer'd vows and faithful love.

Roll on, thou year, nor roll in vain
The various seasons in thy train;
Let smiling Spring the Winter chace,
Let summer with a stealing pace
The flying steps of Spring pursue,
'Till Autumn claim his honours due:
In vain the seasons shall not roll,
If while the nymph who sways my soul
Ordains that every rising day
Shall see her in its course display
New virtues, and with wisdom's grace
Add beauties to an angel-face;
If yet the fair one shall decree
Some happy hours to love and me.