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 WILD ROSES. 
 
 A COLLECTION OF POEMS, 
 
 N^/^/ ^N^/-*/"
 
 mm lioscg. 
 
 A COLLECTION OF POEMS, 
 
 ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM HAMILTON KITTOE. 
 
 Ut Pictura, Poesis erit." 
 
 DORCHESTER : 
 
 PRINTED AND SOLD BY G.CLARK; 
 
 SOLD ALSO BY LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND 
 
 BROWN, PATERNOSTER. ROW, LONDON. 
 
 MDCCCXVIII.
 
 7?R 
 
 THE AUTHOR'S ADDRESS. 
 
 AS many of the following poems were never 
 intended to appear in print, the Author indulges a 
 hope that a generous Puhlic will overlook the errors, 
 which he fears the work possesses. 
 
 He also trusts, that as it is his first effort, some of 
 the faults will be considered excusable ; particularly as 
 he has labored under difficulties of a peculiar nature, 
 during a part of their composition. Should there, 
 however, be found one idea which from originality, or 
 any other recommendation, may afford even a moment's 
 entertainment, he shall consider his time well spent. 
 
 Allington, near Bridport, 
 May, 18 18. 
 
 852865
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 page 
 
 Friendship and Love, - 9 
 
 Poem, -----._ 11 
 
 Friendship, - . i. |g 
 
 To Miss -.____ 15 
 
 On Avarice, - - _ _ _ _ 19 
 
 To a Lily flowering by Moonlight, 21 
 
 Elegiac Stanzas, ------ 23 
 
 To-Morrow, ------ 25 
 
 The Kiss, ------- 26 
 
 On the Author's arrival in Ireland, - - 28 
 
 A Gift for the Gods, ----- 29 
 
 Elegiac Stanzas,.- 31 
 
 Liberty, addressed to Miss - - - 33 
 
 To Hope, - - _ - _ _ -39 
 
 To Sympathy, - , - - . _ 40 
 
 To Lelia, ----_._ 42 
 
 Son g> - 46
 
 VlU CONTENTS. 
 
 page 
 
 On the Death of an Infant, 47 
 
 The muffled Drum, ----- 49 
 
 Lines, addressed to an only Sister on a passage 
 from Quebec to England, after an absence 
 
 of several years, ----- 52 
 
 To the Duke of Wellington, - - - - 56 
 
 Lines, on visiting the place of my Nativity, 
 
 after an absence of many years, 58 
 
 The Maniacs Song, ----- 63 
 
 The Soldier's Adieu, ----- 65 
 
 To Pity, ------- 67 
 
 Camoen's Death Bed, 70 
 Weep not ; on a Friend, who was killed at the 
 
 Battle of Salamanca, 73 
 
 Poem, 76 
 
 Anticipation and Enjoyment, 79 
 
 On the Death of the Princess Charlotte, 84 
 
 The Embalming of the Princess Charlotte, - 88 
 A Wife's Consolation to her husband under 
 
 Affliction, ------ 92 
 
 List of Subscribers, - - -. - 94
 
 WILD ROSES. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP and LOVE. 
 
 O friendship ! I have felt thy power 
 Thrill every vein that warms my heart J 
 
 Thy presence gladdens every hour, 
 
 But oh, what pains, what pangs to part ! 
 
 friendship ! thou art sure a treasure, 
 Which vulgar souls can never know ; 
 
 Thy every look imparts new pleasure* 
 Thy every word can banish woe. 
 
 a
 
 10 WILD ROSES. 
 
 But what art thou, (as yet a stranger) 
 O love ? to my young heart unknown ; 
 
 Through all the world a lawless ranger, 
 Yet thou canst claim the world thine own ! 
 
 Dost thou possess both joy and anguish 
 Beyond mild friendship's soft control ? 
 
 I long in all thy dreams to languish, 
 Oh ! take possession of my SQttK
 
 Will* ROSES, tX 
 
 POEM. 
 
 Expect not perfect happiness below, 
 Nor heavenly plants on earth's low soil to grow j 
 Esteem none happy by their outward air, 
 All have their portion of allotted care, 
 Tho' prudence wears the semblance of conte nt$ 
 When the full heart with agony is rent ; 
 Secludes its auguish from the public sight, 
 And feeds ou sorrow with a fond delight, 
 Shuns ev'ry eye to cherish darling grief, 
 This fond indulgence its supreme relief. 
 By love directed and in mercy sent, 
 Are trials suffer' d and afflictions meant, 
 To stem th' impetuous passions' furious tide. 
 To curb the insolence of prosp'rous pride, 
 b2
 
 12* 
 
 WILD ROSES. 
 
 To wean from earth and bid our wishes soar, 
 To that blest, dime where pain shall be no more, 
 Where wearied virtue shall to virtue fly, 
 And every tear be wip'd from every eye !
 
 WILD ROSES. 13 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 a And what is friendship but a name, 
 
 A charm which lulls to sleep ; 
 A shade that follows wealth or fame, 
 
 But leaves the wretch to weep." 
 
 Goldsmith- 
 
 Oh how galling the chains which our fate casts around us, 
 And sad are the stings which our griefs leave behind ; 
 But sadder than all is that friends will desert us, 
 Unshelterd to buffet misfortune's keen wind. 
 
 thou spirit of light ! who wast born to illumine 
 The seat of the wealthy and luxury's dome, 
 Say, thou soother of anguish, say when is the time 
 Thy brightness will lighten our sad and dark doom ? 
 
 B3
 
 14 WIM> ROOTS. 
 
 When that day arrives, oh what smiles will illume 
 Those cheeks which so long have been darken'd with tears ! 
 One ray of thy light will dispel all our gloom, 
 One smile from thy cheek chase the sorrow of years. 
 
 But till that day arrives our tears ne'er will cease, 
 E'en hope will lay buried beneath the deep gloom ; 
 And should thou e'en scorn us, we'll seek for that peace 
 In the wretched's retreat the dark depths of the tomb.
 
 WILD ROSES. 15 
 
 TO MISS 
 
 * * * * * couldst thou but believe 
 A heart that knows not to deceive, 
 
 Alas, no longer free ; 
 That faithful heart would truly tell 
 The sacred charm, the tender spell, 
 
 That bound it first to thee. 
 
 'Tis not that cradled in thine eyes, 
 The urchin love for ever lies 
 
 On couches dipp'd in dew ; 
 'Tis not because those eyes have w6n 
 Their temper'd light from April's sun, 
 
 From heaven their tints of blue :
 
 16 wild roses. 
 
 'Tis not that on a bank of snow, 
 Thy parted tresses lightly flow 
 
 la bands of braided gold ; 
 Nor yet because the hand of grace 
 Has form'd that dear enchanting face 
 
 Jn beauty's happiest mould : 
 
 No, dearest, no, but from my soul 
 It was an envied smile that stole 
 
 The cherish'd sweets of rest ; 
 And ever since, from morn till night, 
 That lovely smile still haunts my sight 
 
 Jn dimples gaily drest. 
 
 E'en now by fancy's eyes are seen, 
 The polished rows that break between 
 Those lips that breathe of May ;
 
 WILD ROSES. 17 
 
 JE'en now, but oh, by passion taught, 
 Young iaury forms too bold a thought 
 For timid love to say. 
 
 Yet ****** couldst thou but believe 
 A heart that km ws not to deceive, 
 
 Alas no longer free ; 
 'Twould tell thee thcu couldst ne'er impart 
 One smile of thine to cheer a heart 
 
 More firmly bound to thee. 
 
 'Twould beg with a beseeching sigh, 
 One glance fnm pity's meaning eye, 
 
 Its every pang to stay ; 
 'Twould hint, perchance, at happier hours, 
 When hope may strew her fairy flowers 
 
 er life's bewilder'd way.
 
 18 WILP ROSES. 
 
 Yet should my days in sorrow flow, 
 Nor fortune's fostering hand bestow 
 
 A single gift on me ; 
 The frowns of fate I'd bravely meet, 
 Nor e'er esteem my woes complete 
 
 Till banish d far from thee.
 
 tVILD ROSES. 19 
 
 ON AVARICE. 
 
 ** EfFodinntur opts, irritameuta malorum." 
 
 Ovid. 
 
 How frail are riches and their joys, 
 
 Morn builds the heap which eve destroys ; 
 
 Yet can they lose one sure delight-- 
 
 The thought that we've emp'oy'd them right. 
 
 What bliss can wealth aftbrd to me, 
 When life's last solemn hi-ur 1 see, 
 When mercy's sympathising sighs 
 Will but augment my agonits. 
 
 Can hoarded g< Id dispel the glrom, 
 That death must cast around the tomb ? 
 Or chase the ghost that hovers there, 
 Aud fills with sliiifcks the desert air ?
 
 20 WILD ROSES. 
 
 What boots it, Mary, in the grave, 
 Whether I lov'd to waste or save ? 
 The hand that millions now can grasp, 
 In death no more than mine can clasp. 
 
 Were I ambitious to behold 
 Increasing stores of treasured gold, 
 Each tribe that roves the desert knows 
 I might be wealthy if I chose. 
 
 But other joys can gold impart, 
 Far other wishes warm my heart, 
 Ne'er shall I strive to swell the heap, 
 Till want and woe have ceas'd to weep.
 
 Wild roses. 
 
 TO A LILY, 
 
 FLOWERING BY MOONLIGHT. 
 
 u Full many a gem of purest ray serene, 
 The dark unfathnm'd caves of ocean bear; 
 Full many a flow'r is born to bloom unseen, 
 And waste its sweetness in the dtsert air." 
 
 Gray's Elegy, 
 
 Oh ! why thou lily pale, 
 fov'st thou to blossom in the wan moonlight, 
 And shed thy rich perfume upon the night, 
 
 When all thy sisterhood, 
 
 In silken cowl and hood, 
 Screen their soft faces from the sickly gale ? 
 Fair horned Cynthia woos thy modest flower, 
 
 And with her beaming lips, 
 
 Thy kisses cold she sips, 
 
 21
 
 22 wrr, roses* 
 
 tor thou art, aye, her only paramour, 
 
 What time she nightly quits her starry bower, 
 
 Trick'd in celestial light, 
 
 And silver crescent bright. 
 
 Oh, ask thy vestal queen 
 
 If she will thee advise, 
 
 Where in the blessed skies 
 
 That maiden may be seen, 
 Who hung, like thee, her pale head thro' the day, 
 tove-sick and pining for the evening ray, 
 And liv'd a virgin chaste amidst the folly 
 Of this bad world, and died of melancholy ? 
 
 Oh, tell me where she dwells ! 
 
 So on thy mournful bells 
 
 Shall Dian nightly fling 
 tier tender sighs to give thee fresh perfume, 
 tier pale night lustre to enhance thy bloom, 
 And find thee tears to feed thy sorrowing.
 
 WILO ROSS*. 
 
 ELEGIAC STANZAS. 
 
 In yonder grave beside the yew, 
 
 By nature sweetly drest ; 
 In yonder spot that 's seen by few. 
 
 Poor Mary lies at rest. 
 What tho' no tomb appears to tell 
 
 Of ills she could not brave ; 
 A parent's tears have often fell 
 
 On Mary's humble grave. 
 
 Deceiv'd by man, poor luckless maid. 
 Condemned reproach to bear ; 
 
 Ah, Edward, now thy victim's laid 
 Beyond the reach of care.
 
 24 WILD ROSES. 
 
 Alas ! confiding in thy truth, 
 Her heart to thee she gave ; 
 
 Sure now thou'lt weep, oh treach'rous youth, 
 O'er Mary's humble grave. 
 
 On Mary once her parents smiled, 
 
 For once she was their pride ; 
 But now, alas, they've lost their child, 
 
 She broken-hearted died ! 
 friendly yew to guard this spot, 
 
 Around thy branches wave ; 
 And when her name shall be forgot, 
 
 shelter Mary's grave.
 
 WILD ROSES. 25 
 
 TO MORROW. 
 
 See where the falling day, 
 
 In silence steals away, 
 Behind the western hills withdrawn ; 
 Her fires are quenched, her beauty fled, 
 With blushes all her face o'erspread, 
 As conscious she had ill fulfill'd 
 
 The promise of the dawn. 
 
 Another morning soon shall rise^ 
 Another day salute our eyes, 
 As smiling aud as fair as she, 
 And make as many promises > 
 
 But do not thou 
 
 The tale believe, 
 
 They're sisters all, 
 
 And all deceive. 
 
 c
 
 26 WILD ROSES. 
 
 THE KISS. 
 
 " Ilia nisi in lecto nusquam potuere doceri" 
 
 Ovid, lib. ii. elc; 
 
 Those tempting' lips of ruby glow, 
 Why pout with such bewitching art ? 
 For to those lips ***** know, 
 That mine shall not one kiss impart. 
 
 Perhaps you'd have me greatly prize, 
 Hard-hearted fair, your precious kiss ; 
 But learn, proud mortal, 1 despise 
 Such cold and unimpassion'd bliss ! 
 
 But turn not, turn not, thus aside 
 
 Those tempting lips of ruby glow ! 
 
 Nor yet avert with angry pride, 
 
 Those eyes from which such raptures flow '
 
 WILD ROSES. 27 
 
 Forgive the past, sweet-natured maid, 
 My kisses, love, are all thy own ; 
 Then let my lips o'er thine be laid, 
 O'er thine more soft than softest down ! 
 
 C2
 
 28 WILD ROSES. 
 
 ON THE AUTHOR'S ARRIVAL IN IRELAND. 
 
 Tho' torn from all my bleeding heart holds dear. 
 From all that's lovely, all that's good combin'd ; 
 In absence doom'd to drop the silent tear, 
 And sigh unconscious to the passing wind : 
 Tho' 'twixt my love and me loud waters roll, 
 And ocean often swells his briny tide ; 
 Yet seas nor hills can sep'rate soul from soul, 
 Nor leagues nor miles two willing hearts divide. 
 Weak is that flame which absence can remove, 
 Some lawless offspring of untam'd desire ; 
 Absence gives fuel to a gen'rous love, 
 And gently fans the never-dying fire.
 
 WILD ROSES. 29 
 
 A GIFT FOR THE GODS. 
 
 Sure the gods ask no more than a heart that is true, 
 A gift for the gods then I offer to you ; 
 My offering accept, with my lips, see, I sign, 
 Then will you, oh will you, consent to be mine. 
 
 I've a snug little cot, but my acres are few, 
 But with rapture I'll till those few acres for you ; 
 A garden of Eden, sweet maid, shall be thine, 
 Then will you, oh will you, consent to be mine. 
 
 Yes, yes, I can read a dear yes in your eye, 
 You will not, my fair one, your lover deny ; 
 Avert not those beams, how divinely they shine, 
 Then will you, oh will you, consent to be mine. 
 c3
 
 30 WILD ROSES. 
 
 I have but one gift to present to my love, 
 A heart that is faithful and fond as the dove : 
 Then that heart lei me offer at thy beauties' shrine, 
 Then will you, oh will you, consent to be mine.
 
 WILD ROSES. St 
 
 ELEGIAC STANZAS. 
 
 " Sic juvat perire." 
 
 Still, O Mary, still I love thee, 
 Love thee with distracting zeal ! 
 
 May that power that rules above thee 
 Save thee from the pangs I feel ! 
 
 May'st thou never, never languish, 
 By a hapless passion torn ; 
 
 Never, never know the anguish 
 Which for thee my soul has borne. 
 
 Soft, oh soft, this heart is breaking ; 
 
 Mark, where yonder osiers wave, 
 To the wild their murmurs making, 
 
 Give me there a peaceful grave !
 
 32 WILD ROSES. 
 
 Mould'ring on earth's silent pillow, 
 Damp and chilly be ray bed ; 
 
 None to mourn me but the willow, 
 Hustling doleful o'er my head !
 
 WILD ROSES. 3$ 
 
 LIBERTY, 
 
 ADDRESSED TO MISS 
 
 Thanks to thy wiles, insiduous maid, 
 
 At last ] breathe again ; 
 The gods in pity lent their aid, 
 
 To break a wretches chain. 
 No mere I pine in solitude, 
 
 My heart 1 feel is free ; 
 No charms my senses now delude, 
 
 Welcome, sweet Liberty. 
 Think not I seek to veil my love, 
 
 Or idly vent my spleen ; 
 While frankly I thy faults reprove, 
 
 My mind remains serene.
 
 34 WILD ROSES. 
 
 No sudden glow o'erspreads my brow 
 
 Whene'er thy name 1 hear ; 
 Nor does my heart beat quicker now, 
 
 Because ****** here. 
 I dream, but not in all my dreams 
 
 Thy image do I see ; 
 Nor do my thoughts, when morning beams 
 
 Fix always first on thee. 
 Altho' in distant realms I stray, 
 
 In peace the moments glide ; 
 No more thy presence gilds the day, 
 
 That passes at thy side. 
 With coolness I can recollect 
 
 The wrongs that I have felt ; 
 With coolness on thy charms reflect, 
 
 No more my soul they melt. 
 No longer I distracted feel, 
 
 Although thou speak'st to me ;
 
 WILD ROSES. 35 
 
 And to my rival I appeal, 
 
 That I can talk of thee. 
 Avert, avert, that haughty glance, 
 
 Thy frowns, thy smiles avert ; 
 Those lips have lost their wonted sway, 
 
 Those accents all their art ; 
 Those eyes no longer know the way, 
 
 To fascinate this heart. 
 Whate'er may pain or bliss bestow, 
 
 If bless'd or pain'd I be, 
 No gratitude to thee I owe, 
 
 No fault can find with thee. 
 Woods, hills, and meads delight my eyes 
 
 "When thou art far away; 
 And gloomy scenes, when thou art near, 
 
 Appear no longer gay. 
 Nay judge if I be not sincere 
 
 To me you still seem fair,
 
 30 WILD ROSES. 
 
 But seem not still without a slur, 
 
 As once I thought you were. 
 And let not truth thy ear offend, 
 
 In that bewitching face, 
 Which once 1 thought no change could mend, 
 
 Some blemishes I trace. 
 At first when Cupid's arrow broke, 
 
 With shame the truth I speak. 
 I fancied death had (jtalt the stroke, 
 
 I thought my heart would break. 
 But saft !y 1 surviv'd that hour, 
 
 What more have I to fear, 
 Can live invent, with all his pow'r, 
 
 A trial that's more severe. 
 The little bird has felt the smart, 
 
 And lost some feathers too, 
 But freely now it skims the air, 
 
 And laughs at love and you.
 
 WILD ROSES. 37 
 
 His feathers time will soon restore, 
 
 And by experience taught, 
 The bait will never tempt him more, 
 
 By which he once was caught. 
 I know you think my flames still glow, 
 
 So often I declare 
 That they're extinct ; and few, you know, 
 
 Can joy in silence bear. 
 Some instinct, natural to man, 
 
 In first pain takes delight, 
 When we relate the risks we ran, 
 
 And smile while we recite. 
 The vet'ran hence his tale repeats, 
 
 And bears his blushing scars ; 
 Recounts with rapture, all his toils, 
 
 And, laughing, talks of wars. 
 And hence the slave, from danger free, 
 
 Points to his galling chain,
 
 38 WILD ROSES, 
 
 Exclaiming in wild extasy, 
 
 It ne'er ran wound again. 
 I speak, but do not hence propose 
 
 To satisfy thy mind ; 
 I speak, because from speaking flows 
 
 A joy I rarely find. 
 I speak, but ask not thy belief, 
 
 Nor whether thou approve, 
 Nor ask I whether joy or grief 
 
 In thee have follow'd love.
 
 WILD ROSES. 39 
 
 TO HOPE. 
 
 Oh ! ever skill'd to wear the form we love, 
 To bid the shapes of fear and guilt depart, 
 
 Come gentle hope ! with one gay smile remove 
 The lasting sadness of an aching heart. 
 
 Thy voice, benign enchantress, let me hear, 
 Say that for me some pleasure yet shall bloom, 
 
 That fancy's radiance, friendship's precious tear, 
 Shall soften or dispel misfortune's gloom. 
 
 But come not glowing in the dazzling ray 
 
 Which once with dear illusions charm'd my eye 
 
 Oh ! strew no more, swef-t flatt'rer in my way 
 The flow'rs I fondly thought too bright to die. 
 
 Visions less fair wou'd soothe my pensive breast; 
 That asks not happiness, but longs for rest.
 
 40 WILD ROSES. 
 
 TO SYMPATHY. 
 
 Sweet Sympathy, oh, lend thine azure eye, 
 From my pale cheek this tear of sorrow steal ; 
 
 Thou pitying cherub, stop this rising sigh, 
 
 And the sad wounds which rend my bosom heal ! 
 
 Assist to stem this rapid tide of woe, 
 
 Thy mute attention may assuage my grief, 
 
 Steal from fond passion half its ardent glow, 
 And to my mis'ry bring a slight relief. 
 
 Why does this fatal tenderness impart 
 
 Such sad sensations to my heaving breast ; 
 
 Why does the cruel weakness of my heart, 
 Rob my swoll'n bosom of its wonted rest.
 
 WILD ROSES. 41 
 
 Yet e'er I'd wish to lose the plaintives sweet 
 
 Of sensibility's enchanting charms, 
 My heart should every change of sorrow greet. 
 
 And hail distress in all its varied forms*
 
 4*2 WILD ROSEs, 
 
 TO LELIA. 
 
 " The sun is but a spark of fire, 
 A transient meteor in the sky ; 
 The soul, immortal as its sire, 
 
 Shall never die." 
 
 Montgomery, 
 
 You bid me sing the song you love, 
 
 I hear, and wake the favor'd lay ; 
 For Lelia's lips no wish can move, 
 
 But 1 am blest when I obey. 
 Vet while you tend the strain to hear, 
 
 My fancy flies on wayward wing, 
 And turns to him the poet dear, 
 
 Who form'd the song you bid me sing.
 
 WILD ROSES. 43 
 
 Dear to my heart for ever be 
 
 The bard who thus can melt and charm, 
 In every age each maid like thee, 
 
 To nature just, to genius warm. 
 But ah, the bard where is he fled ? 
 
 Like common forms of vulgar clay, 
 The shades of night are round him spread, 
 
 The bard has liv'd and pass'd away. 
 
 And him who thus with matchless art 
 
 To music gave the poet rhyme, 
 Touch'd with new eloquence the heart, 
 
 And wak'd to melody sublime. 
 How vainly would my eyes require, 
 
 And seek him in the realms of day ; 
 But like the master of ihe lyre, 
 
 He, too, has liv'd and pass'd away, 
 
 1>2
 
 44 WILD ROSES'. 
 
 'Mid Scotia's shadowy glens reclin'd, 
 
 .These notes some unknown minstrel fir'd : 
 Yet where, to silent death resign'd, 
 
 Rests now the form the muse inspir'd. 
 No vestige points to raptures warm, 
 
 To grateful awe, the sacred clay ; 
 Alas, while lives the song to charm, 
 
 All but the song has pass'd away ! 
 
 Well, Lelia, does that look reveal, 
 
 That pensive look, that softened eyd, 
 How quickly thro' thine heart can steal 
 
 The thought refin'd that bids thee sigh. 
 Not at thy will from want, from pain, 
 
 Exemptions kind can genius claim ; * 
 And now thou mark st with sorrow vain, 
 
 How frail its triumph and its fame.
 
 WILD ROSES. 45 
 
 Muse on and mourn, thou generous maid, 
 
 Ah ! mourn for man, thus doom'd to view 
 His little labours bloom and fade, 
 
 An hour destroy an hour renew. 
 Vain humbled man ! must every pride, 
 
 All thy fond glories feel decay ? 
 Must every boast, if once allied 
 
 To thee, but live to pass away ? 
 
 Vain humbled man ! as transient flies 
 
 All that thy reasoning mind rever'd ; 
 In some lov'd maid thus sinks and dies, 
 
 All to thy inmost soul endear'd. 
 Oh, Lelia, haste thee to my breast, 
 
 Come, all thy life, thy love convey ; 
 Oh ! closer to my heart be press'd 
 
 Dost thou, too, live to pass away ? 
 
 n3
 
 46 WILD ROSES, 
 
 SONG. 
 
 When for the girl of my heart I am sighing, 
 And all the torments of absence prove ; 
 
 Within my bosom earh fond hope dying, 
 While thinking on my absent love ; 
 
 fill the bumper, fill it higher, 
 
 Let rapture sparkle round the bowl J 
 
 Should her dear name the toast inspirej 
 'Twill animate my droupiug soul.
 
 WILD ROSES. 
 
 47 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. 
 
 A filial flower of promise fair, 
 Adornd a fond parental stem ; 
 While warm affection's constant care, 
 Foster'd the little precious gem. 
 
 But ah ! an unrelenting storm, 
 Involv'd the sky and swept the shade, 
 And seizing on the tender form, 
 Soon low in dust its beauty laid. 
 
 Parental fondness mourn'd the blow, 
 Of a'l its cherish'd hopes bereft ; 
 Time on his list of private woes, 
 Hath few more piteous records left.
 
 48 WILD ROSES. 
 
 Yet consolation still to you 
 Who felt the painful stroke, is given ; 
 The flower though vanish'd from your view, 
 Shall bloom eternally in heaven.
 
 WILD ROSES. 49 
 
 THE 
 
 MUFFLED DRUM, 
 
 Ah me, how sorrowful and slow, 
 With arms revers'd, the soldiers come ; 
 Dirge-sounding- trumpets full of woe, 
 And sad to hear the muffled drum. 
 
 Advancing to the house of pray'r, 
 Still sadder fl. ws the mournful strain ; 
 E'en industry forgets its care, 
 And j^ins the n.elancholy train.
 
 50 WILD ROSES. 
 
 Oh ! after all the toils of war, 
 
 How blest the brave man lays him down ; 
 
 His bier is a triumphal car, 
 
 His grave is glory and renown. 
 
 The generous steed which late he rode, 
 Seems, too, his master to deplore ; 
 And folh.ws to his last abode, 
 The warrior who returns no more. 
 
 See love and truth all woe begone, 
 And beauty drooping in the croud, 
 Their thoughts intent on him alone, 
 Who sleeps for ever in his shroud, 
 
 Again the trumpet slowly sounds 
 The soldier's last sad fun'ral hymn ; 
 Again the muffled drum rebounds, 
 And every eye with grief is dim.
 
 Witt) ROSES. 51 
 
 What though no friends or brothers dear, 
 To grace his obsequies attend ; 
 His comrades are his broihers here 
 And every hero is his friend.
 
 52 WILP R0SE3. 
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO AN ONLY SISTER, ON A PASSAGE 
 
 FROM QUEBEC TO ENGLAND, AFTER AN 
 
 ABSENCE OF SEVERAL YEARS. 
 
 The storm is high, the hillows roar, 
 The ship s laid-to, her head to sea ; 
 Dreadful to \itw the oetan rolls, 
 Dreadful to all, Lut most to me. 
 
 To me for 'tis the twelfth long year 
 JFiiiCe first I left my r.ative shore, 
 Friends, kindred, all 1 hold most dear, 
 Never, perhaps, to see them more.
 
 WILD ROSES. 53 
 
 Yet while these eastern storms arise, 
 And hide from view my native coast, 
 Hope, my lov'd Anna, turns my eyes, 
 My thoughts to thee, my pride and boast. 
 
 And bids me trust, ere long be past, 
 I yet shall hold thee to my heart ; 
 Tender affection's pleasures taste, 
 And fondly hope we ne'er shall part. 
 
 Thus while 1 mus'd, my eyes I rear'd 
 Upon the wide expanse to roam, 
 From Britain's coast a thrush appear'd^ 
 Like me a wanderer, driv'n from home. 
 
 Welcome, thou little friend, I cried, 
 Welcome to me thou shalt be dear ; 
 Here in my breast thy terrors hide. 
 And fondly catch the feeling tear.
 
 54 WILD ROSES. 
 
 And should I by the fate of war 
 Again be doom'd to cross the sea, 
 My Anna's bosom thou shall share, 
 And urge her oft to think on me. 
 
 Oft he on tremhling pinions flew, 
 Oft he essay'd to gain the ship ; 
 The ruthless wind unpitying blew, 
 And hurl'd him headlong in the deep. 
 
 Poor hapless bird ! perhaps e'en now 
 For thee thy partner tunes her song ; 
 Or sits forlorn upon the bough, 
 And to the ocean makes her moan. 
 
 And such, dear Anna, such the fate, 
 Of friends whom oft and long we mourn ; 
 By fortune driven, or hope elate, 
 They roam, ah, never to return ;
 
 WILD ROSES. 55 
 
 Then while we stem life's varying tide, 
 Still may this thought inspire each hreast 
 Let honor all our actions guide, 
 We'll firmly trust to heaven the rest.
 
 66 WILD ROSES. 
 
 TO THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 a Palmam qui meruit ferat.*' 
 
 Victory to British glory 
 Swells the proudest notes t)f fame'; 
 Victory to deathless story 
 Gives the hero's honor'd name. 
 Nations freed and nations freeing 1 , 
 Hail the mighty victor's course ; 
 Vanquish'd slaves of tyrants freeing*. 
 Yield to Briton's hallow'd force. 
 
 Joyously mid festive bowers, 
 While in plejtsure's round ye move, 
 Sportively your native flowers 
 Wreathing for the maids you love.
 
 WILD ROSES. 
 
 Britons now while safely boasting 
 Rights secur'd and battles won, 
 Bumpers to the hero toasting, 
 Know that he is Erin's son.
 
 58 WILD ROSES. 
 
 LINES, 
 
 ON VISITING THE PLACE OF MY NATIVITY AFTER 
 AN ABSENCE OF MANY YEARS. 
 
 " Art thou a mourner? Hast thou known 
 The joy of innocent delights ? 
 Endearing days for ever flown, 
 
 And tranquil nights I 
 
 O live ! and deeply cherish still, 
 The sweet remembrance of the past ; 
 Rely on heaven's unchanging will, 
 For peace at last." 
 
 Montgomery's Graif . 
 
 Hail to my natal spot ! behold appear, 
 After long toilsome years have roll'd between, 
 A wand'rer comes to muse, to drop a tear, 
 And trace remembrance of each vouthiul scene.
 
 WILD ROSES. 59 
 
 Forlorn he comes, unheeded and unknown, 
 No parent, brothers, sisters' arms to meet ; 
 No voice of welcome hails the exile home, 
 Whose soothing sound could make past sorrows sweet. 
 
 So heaven decree* ! then let me not repine, 
 Tho' doom'd to struggle on life's stormy wave ; 
 For numbers share a lot more hard than mine, 
 And fortitude will every hardship brave. 
 
 Yet tho' of friendship's voice I heard no sound, 
 Long well-known objects still salute the view ; 
 Eager with throbbing breast I gaze around, 
 And all the early scenes of life renew. 
 
 And while with melancholy step I range, 
 Lament the present, and retrace the past, 
 Tho' memory faithful paints the mournful change ; 
 Still here the wearied heart would rest at last 
 r. 2
 
 GO WILD ROSE9. 
 
 Ye learned say, deep skill'd in nature's laws, 
 That wheresoe'er her sons are doom'd to roam, 
 Say whence arises that resistless cause, 
 That binds each bosom to its native home. 
 
 E'en climes where nature with a niggard hand 
 Her bounty sheds, and miseries dread appear, 
 Each mortal thinks his own the favor'd land, 
 And all his fondest wishes centre there. 
 
 Alike through all the globe the impulse runs, 
 The Afric pants beneath the burning line, 
 And northward to the pole pale Lapland's sons, 
 All, all confess the sacred power divine. 
 
 Caress'd by fortune, let the Eriton boast 
 His country's worth, while pleasure leads to roam 
 Heaven's choicest blessings crown thy happy coas 
 Each social bliss recals the rover home.
 
 WILD ROSES. 61 
 
 But I, a wretch, doom'd to unceasing care, 
 What charms for me can any clime bestow ? 
 In each a toilsome load 1 still must bear, 
 And trace a long variety of woe. 
 
 Long years of wars, rough perils I have known, 
 Since from a parent's arms I parted here ; 
 He's gone all friends are fled I stand alone, 
 No hand to succour, and no voice to cheer. 
 
 No joy, no hope my native land bestows, 
 Again I wander to a distant shore ; 
 There I at length, perhaps, may find repose, 
 And these loug-cherish'd scenes behold no more. 
 
 Yet, native Britain, yet I love thee still, 
 May peace and plenty crown thy happy plains ; 
 Thy freedom, fame, and praise my breast shall fill, 
 Where'er 1 wander, here my heart remains. 
 e3
 
 62 WILD ROSES. 
 
 ResigrTd submissive let me bow to thee, 
 
 Thou power supreme ! from whom 1 draw my breath, 
 
 For thou caust sooth despair, set mis'ry free, 
 
 And cheer with smiles the awful hour of death !
 
 WILD ROSES, 63 
 
 THE MANIAC'S SONG. 
 
 Ha ! what is that, that on my brow 
 Presses with such o'erwhelming power r 
 My love to heav'n is gone, I know, 
 But 'tis to fix our bridal hour. 
 
 Then on his grave why should I sorrow ? 
 He's gone but he'll return to-morrow. 
 
 Ah ! then yon lofty hill I'll mount, 
 And seize on morning's brightest cloud ; 
 On that I'll wait, my love, and count, 
 The moments till he leaves his shroud. 
 
 And he the rain-bow vest shall borrow, 
 To grace our bridal day to-morrow.
 
 04 WILD ROSES. 
 
 But all's not right in this poor heart, 
 Yet why should 1 his loss deplore ? 
 It was, indeed, a pang to part, 
 But when he comes, he'll rove no more. 
 
 And all, to-day, can laugh at sorrow, 
 When sure of being blest to-morrow. 
 
 Then why am I in black array'd r 
 And why is Henry's father pale ? 
 And why do J, poor frantic maid, 
 Tell to the winds a mournful tale ; 
 
 Alas ! the weight I feel is sorrow, 
 No, no, he cannot come to morrow.
 
 WILD ROSES. 65 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S ADIEU. 
 
 Cheer thee loveliest, best of women, 
 Trust to the great power above ; 
 
 When 1 rush amidst the foemen, 
 Heaven may think on her I love. 
 
 Saving is the miser's pleasure, 
 Spending is the soldier's thrift ; 
 
 Take this guinea, all my treasure, 
 Take it as a parting gift. 
 
 Ere we end this mournful meeting, 
 Catch from my fond lips this sigh ; 
 
 And should this be our last greeting, 
 Know that I was born to die.
 
 66 WILD ROSES. 
 
 See, the day spring gilds the streamers, 
 Waving o'er the martial train : 
 
 Now the hoarse drum wakes the dreamers, 
 Ne'er, perchance, to dream again. 
 
 Hark ! I hear the trumpet's clangor 
 Bid the British youth excel ; 
 
 Now, now, glows the battle's anger, 
 Lovely Anna, fare thee well !
 
 WILD ROSES. 67 
 
 TO PITY.* 
 
 M Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori ." 
 
 pity, if thy holy tear 
 Immortal decks the wing of time, 
 'Tis when the soldier's honour'd bier 
 Demands the glittering drop sublime ; 
 For who from busy life remov'd, 
 Such glorious, daug'rous toil has prov'd, 
 As he who on the embattled plain 
 
 Lies nobly slain ; 
 
 * This Poem is Mrs. Robinson's, but it has never before 
 been published.
 
 WILD ROSES. 
 
 He i*ho forsakes his native shore 
 To meet the whizzing ball of death, 
 Who mid the battle's fatal roar 
 Resigns his ling'ring, parting breath : 
 Who, when the dtafening din is done, 
 So well deserves as valor's son, 
 The proud, the lasting wreath of fame 
 
 To grave his name. 
 
 Hard is his fate, the sultry day 
 To wander o'er the burning plain, 
 All night to waste the hours away 
 Midst hcwling winds and beating rain ; 
 To talk, vision sadly sweet ! 
 With her his eyes will never meet, 
 And fiud at morn's returning gleam 
 
 'Twas but a dream.
 
 WILD ROSES. 69 
 
 To mark the haughty hrow severe, 
 To hear the imperious stern command, 
 To heave the sigh, to drop the lear, 
 While memory paints his native land ; 
 To know the laurels he has won 
 Twines round the brow of fortune's son, 
 While he when strength and youth are flown 
 Shall die unknown t
 
 70 WILD ROSES. 
 
 CAMOEN's DEATH BED. 
 
 " There was on earth no power to save, 
 But as he shndder'd o'er the grave, 
 He saw from realms of light descend, 
 The friend of linn who has no friend." 
 
 Montgomery. 
 
 Shipwreck'd amid the storms of fate, 
 On my poor bed 1 shiv'ring lie, 
 No longer mourn my hapless fate, 
 1 Tis bliss, oh, bliss supreme to die, 
 
 When hope is flown ' 
 
 Oh, I have bled at ev'ry pore, 
 Have trembled with affection's throe, 
 [lave felt till I could feel no more, 
 The agony of tender woe ; 
 
 Now hope is gone !
 
 WILD ROSES. 71 
 
 Those eyes are ever clos'd in night, 
 Those eyes which fondly beamd on me ; 
 With her has fled each dear delight 
 For which I plough'd life's stormy sea : 
 Yes, she is dead. 
 
 O'er her soft form the green grass grows, 
 The soul which grac'd her beauty's gone, 
 Who pensive wept my bosom's woes ; 
 And now, alas, a marble stone 
 
 Lies o'er her head. 
 
 Subdued by fate, I sinking fall, 
 Roll o'er my head, ye billows rude, 
 For I am now despoild of all, 
 The. victim of ingratitude, 
 
 Of hope bereft.
 
 72 WILD ROSES. 
 
 And yet one poor untutor'd soul, 
 Sheds o'er my bed compassion's tear ; 
 Attempts stern anguish to control, 
 And snatch its victim from the bier, 
 One only left. 
 
 O'er my pale form his dark face bends, 
 For me he begs the scanty meal, 
 Of those who were my summer friends, 
 Whose bosoms long have ceas'd to feel 
 For him who dies. 
 
 The drops, Antonio,* from thy eyes, 
 Like stars upon the cheeks of night, 
 Shall sooth my passage to the skies, 
 And record thee in realms of light, 
 When 1 arise. 
 
 i 
 * His black servant.
 
 WILD ROSES. 73 
 
 WEEP NOT. 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON A FRIEND, WHO WAS KILLED 
 AT THE BATTLE OF SALAMANCA. 
 
 Weep not, he died as heroes die, 
 The death permitted to the brave ; 
 Mourn not, he lies where soldiers lie, 
 And valour envies such a grave. 
 
 His was the love of bold emprise, 
 Of soldiers' hardship, soldiers' fame, 
 And his the wish by arms to rise, 
 And gain a proud and deathless name* 
 F
 
 74 WILD ROSES. 
 
 For this fie burn'd the midnight oil, 
 Aud pored o'er lofty deeds untir'd ; 
 Resolv'd like valour's sons to toil, 
 And be the hero he admir'd. 
 
 Yet greater arts, yet softer lore, 
 Could lure him to their tuneful page ;. 
 And Dante's dread-inspiring power, 
 And Petrarch's love his soul engage. 
 
 How sweetly from his accents flow'd 
 The Tuscan poet's magic strains ; 
 But vainly heav'n such powers bestow'd. 
 He bled on Spain's ensanguin'd plains. 
 
 No mother's kiss, no sister's tear 
 Embalm'd the viclim's fatal wound ; 
 No father pray'd beside his bier, 
 No brother clasp'd his arm* around.
 
 'WILD ROSES. ?*) 
 
 Amidst the cannon's loud alarms. 
 He fell as soldiers still must fall ; 
 His bier his toil-worn comrades' arms, 
 And earth's green turf his funeral pall. 
 
 f2
 
 ?G WILD ROSES. 
 
 POEM. 
 
 " There is a calm for those who weepy 
 A rest for weary pilgrims found ; 
 They calmly lie and sweetly sleep, 
 
 Low in the ground." 
 
 Montgomery 
 
 Unhappy is the pilgrim's lot, 
 Who wanders o'er the desert heath, 
 By friends and by the world forgot, 
 Whose only hope depends on death ! 
 Yet may he smile when memory shows, 
 The tort'ring stings, the weary woes, 
 Which forc'd his bosom to abide, 
 The vulgar scorn of vulgar pride.
 
 WILD ROSES. 77 
 
 Forlorn is he who on the sand 
 Of some bleak isle his hovel rears ; 
 Or shipwreck'd on the breezy strand, 
 The billows deaf'ning murmurs hears : 
 Yet when his aching eyes survey 
 The white sail gliding- far away, 
 He feels he shall no more abide 
 The vulgar scorn of vulgar pride. 
 
 Of all the ills the feeling mind 
 
 Is destin'd in this world to share, 
 
 Of pain and poverty combin'd. 
 
 Of friendship's frown, or love's despair ; 
 
 Still reason arms the conscious soul, 
 
 And bids it every pang contioul, 
 
 Save when the patient heart is tried 
 
 By vulgar scorn and vulgar piide. 
 
 f3
 
 78 WILD, HOSES. 
 
 Go, wealth, and in the hormit's cell 
 Behold that peace thou canst net have 1 
 Go, rank, and list the passing knell, 
 That warns thee to oblivion's grave ! 
 Go, power, and where the peasant's breast 
 Enjoys the balm of conscious rest, 
 Confess that virtue can derids 
 The vulgar scorn of vulgar pride !
 
 WILD ROSES. 79 
 
 ANTICIPATION AND ENJOYMENT. 
 
 Long had a philosophic doubt 
 Disturb'd the youthful Plato's mind, 
 The sages had not pointed out, 
 And no solution could he find : 
 
 Whether when expectation pours 
 Her sweet effusions o'er the heart ; 
 Or when we call the object ours, 
 The bosom feels the finest smart. 
 
 One morn in this scholastic mood, 
 As musing- by Ilissus' stream, 
 Lulld by the music of the flood, 
 He sunk in a delightful dream.
 
 80 WILD HOSES. 
 
 A garden to the mortal eye 
 Arose in all the pride of spring- ; 
 A thousand sweets perfume the sky, 
 A thousand tuneful warblers sing-. 
 
 Amid the whole a lovely maid, 
 With eyes bright with cherubic fire, 
 And face where smiles celestial play'd, 
 Seem'd every object to inspire. 
 
 An opening rose-bud graced her hand, 
 On which her eye she fondly cast ; 
 And now it promised to expand, 
 It pleased and premised to the last. 
 
 Invited, and inviting still, 
 
 She sang an air divinely sweet, 
 
 To whose exhilarating thrill, 
 
 She beat soft measures with her feet.
 
 WILD ROSES. 81 
 
 No cloud, no care, o'ercast her mien, 
 Her eye still sparkled with delight ; 
 Still she enjoy'd the blooming scene, 
 Still seem'd transported at the sight. 
 
 The youth no sooner had survey'd 
 This prospect, with a curious eye, 
 Than golden autumn stood display'd, 
 And bade his ravish'd heart beat high. 
 
 What tho' no more the flcw'rs in spring 
 With incense scent the ambient air ; 
 What tho' no more the warblers sing, 
 Since nature's choicest fruits are there ; 
 
 If such gay transports fill'd the mind 
 Of her, that fed on fancied joys, 
 What more than rapture must she find, 
 Whose soul substantial bliss employs.
 
 WILD ROSES. 
 
 So thought the tyro, when to view 
 A virgin rose, iu ripen'd charms; 
 Around an amorous glance she threw, 
 And seem'd to wave him to her arms. 
 
 Upon a couch, by nature wove, 
 Her limbs luxuriously she flung ; 
 Yet still to hide her languor strove, 
 By the sweet music of her tungue. 
 
 Tho' all was there can charm the eye, 
 All that the senses can invite ; 
 Her bosom labor'd with a sigh, 
 Her heart seem'd vacant of delight. 
 
 The season's various fruits she'd taste, 
 Anon, she'd taste them o'er and o'er; 
 She could not find the wish'd for zest, 
 And sicktn'd at the luscious store.
 
 WiLB ROSES. 83 
 
 Young Plato wak'd, o'erjoy'd to find 
 A dream his anxious doubts remove ; 
 And left his lesson to mankind, 
 Which hence is call'd Platonic love. 
 
 When warm imagination's rays 
 Dart keen upon the human breast, 
 And hope the dailiug good surveys, 
 The man is most completely blest. 
 
 Still keep the darling good in view, 
 Nor let the gross fruition cloy ; 
 So shall your pleasures still be new, 
 And man will be the child of joy.
 
 84 WILD ROSES. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS 
 CHARLOTTE. 
 
 u The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
 All that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 
 Await alike th' inevitable hour; 
 The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 
 
 Gray's Elegy. 
 
 Gentle and mild, approaching winter's sway 
 Comes on, divested of its wonted gloom ; 
 A darker pall descends on England's day 
 The night of death the winter of the tomb. 
 
 The fairest flower of Brunswick's royal line 
 Untimely blasted, withers on its stem ; 
 And mingled boughs of dark-leav'd cypress twine 
 Their fun'ral wreath with England's diadem.
 
 WILD ROSES. C 
 
 Mourn, isle of Britain, empire of the wave, 
 In dust and ashes veil thy prostrate head ! 
 Where are thy budding hopes ? To the dark grave 
 Consign'd the narrow chambers of the dead ! 
 
 In vain, proud city, thro' your countless ways, 
 Unuumber'd hands the feast of lights prepare; 
 Lo ! for your choral songs and festive blaze, 
 The death-bell tolls, and fun'ral torches glare ! 
 
 Oh, bow'rs of Clareinont ! in your princely halls 
 The halcyon dream of youthful love is o'er ; 
 For ever silent, thro' your echoing walls 
 The voice of gladness shaH resound no more. 
 
 Within those walls^ where all the smiling train 
 Of pure domestic b'iss so late hath been, 
 What gloomy shades of desolation reign ! 
 W'hat awful contrast marks the solemn scene !
 
 86 WILD ROSES. 
 
 For buoyant hope, the silence of despair, 
 And weeping mourners for the expecting croud ; 
 A lifeless infant for the promis'd heir, 
 For jewell'd robes, the coffin and the shroud ! 
 
 Pale, cold, and silent on that narrow bier 
 
 She lies, so late in health and beauty s glow ! 
 
 Dear to all hearts to one, alas, how dear 
 
 What words can paint ? Oh God, assuage his woe ! 
 
 Approach, unthinking youth ! this awful scene 
 Shall wean thy heart from earth and earthly trust ; 
 Shall eloquently teach how frail and mean 
 Are man's designs himself an heap of dust ! 
 
 How unavailing youth, and wealth, and power, 
 Frum death's insatiate grasp his prey to save ; 
 How powerless to protract, for one short hour. 
 The mortal stroke, the triumph of the grave.
 
 WILD ROSES. 87 
 
 Nor this alone ; for virtue's lovelier plea 
 
 Of truth and innocence alike was vain : 
 
 It was the Lord's inscrutable decree, 
 
 And where's the arm that may His arm restrain ? 
 
 Yea, 'twas His will that she, whose early fate 
 From every eye calls tender sorrow down, 
 Should for immortal chauge her mortal state, 
 An earthly sceptre for a heavenly crown !
 
 Wild roses. 
 
 THE EMBALMING OF THE PRINCESS 
 CHARLOTTE.* 
 
 " Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas, 
 regumque turres." 
 
 Horace. 
 
 Hark ! that deep bell's sepulchral tone, 
 "Which only speaks of princes dead, 
 Bids list'ning anxious crowds bemoan 
 Their hope, their pride, for ever fled ! 
 
 It tells of youth's untimely blight, 
 Of viitues, form'd a realm to save, 
 For ever lost in death's dark night, 
 With all the patriot hopes they gave ! 
 
 * See the Morning Chronicle
 
 WILD ROBES. SO 
 
 And was there aught of added woe 
 To wound the royal husband's breast. 
 Who saw death's shadow veil the brow, 
 His lip of love so oft had press' d ? 
 
 Yes ! Pagan rites in Christian land 
 His soul with added anguish moved ; 
 For strangers, though with licensed hand, 
 Profaned the sacred form he loved. 
 
 The meanest hind by sorrow bow'd, 
 Who kneels the humblest bier beside, 
 At once the form he loved may shroud, 
 And e'en from pity's glances hide. 
 
 And must the royal dead alone 
 Distinctions that degrade possess ? 
 Must England still such customs own, 
 As feelings nicest sense oppress ? 
 o
 
 90 WILD ROSE*. 
 
 No more let Heathen customs tear 
 A Christian husbands heart in twa.inj 
 Nor slumb'riug on her honur'd bier, 
 A Christian princess' form profane ! 
 
 Bid funeral robe of costly gold, 
 
 Or hope and heaven's own beaming blue, 
 
 With proud distinction still enfold 
 
 Those forms which sovereign splendors knew 
 
 But be that robe in future closed 
 
 O'er limbs which sacred rest have known ; 
 
 To mourniug love alone exposed, 
 
 And touch'd by love's fond grasp alone. 
 
 Princess ! most lov'd where known the most, 
 With thee our brightest prospects close ; 
 A people's joy, a nation's boast, 
 Will in thy early grave repose 1
 
 WILD ROSES. 91 
 
 Blest was thy life, oh, soothing thought ! 
 Beyond a royal charter blest ; 
 He who thy heart love s lessons taught, 
 Became the partner of thy breast. 
 
 Blest was thy lot, for wedded bliss 
 Earth's sweetest meed to thee was given ; 
 And the sole gift surpassing this, 
 We trust, is thine the bliss of heaven ! 
 
 q2
 
 92 WILD ROSES. 
 
 A WIFE'S CONSOLATION TO HER HUSBAND 
 UNDER. AFFLICTION. 
 
 No more, lov'd partner of my soul, 
 
 At disappointment grieve ; 
 Can flowing tears our fate control, 
 
 Or sighs our woes relieve-? 
 
 Adversity is virtue's school 
 
 To those who right discern ; 
 Let us observe each painful rule, 
 
 And each hard lesson learn. 
 
 When wintry clouds obscure the sky, 
 
 And heaven and earth deform ; 
 If fix'd, the strong foundations lie, 
 
 The castle braves the storm.
 
 WILD ROSES. 93 
 
 Thus fix'd on faith's unfailing rock, 
 
 Let us endure awhile, 
 Misfortune's rude impetuous shock, 
 
 And glory in our toil. 
 
 HI fortune, cannot always last, 
 
 Or tho' it should remain, 
 Yet we each painful moment haste 
 
 A better world to gain. 
 
 Where calumny no more shall wound, 
 
 Nor faithless friends destroy ; 
 Where innocence and truth are crown'd 
 
 With never-fading joy !
 
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 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 97 
 
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