MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. And, as her warlike, Wild attire, In careless haste, was round her thrown, Flash'd, from her eyes of martial fire, A lustre, brighter than its own. Or' some heroic matron sought, (The battle's dreaded conflict near) To smooth the brow of anxious thought, And hide th' involufitary tear; 127 Compos'd, with sadly-brightening smile, The mild, pale features of her face, Here practis'd oft the virtuous guile, And calmly met the last embrace. Or, every look with ardour breathing, (Around her wildly flowing hair The consecrated laurel wreathing,) Here gazed'some frenzied Delphic fair. Perchance to Christian virgin's cell The useless mirror hath been given, Where looks no longer fondly fell From one, who li?r'd alone for Heaven. ......... ?GooBIe
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