Russell 
 
 Sonnets and miscellaneous poems
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 SONNETS 
 
 AND 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 
 
 BY THE LATE 
 
 THOMAS RUSSELL, 
 
 FELLOW OF NEW COLLEGE. 
 
 OXFORD: 
 
 PRINTED FOR D. PRINCE AND J. COOKE. 
 
 J. F. AND C. RlVINGTON, T. CaDELL, AND T. AND J. EgERTON, LonDON^ 
 
 M DCC LXXXIX.
 
 ( V ) 
 
 TO THE 
 
 READER. 
 
 ^ I ^HE Reverend Thomas Russell, Author of the 
 Poems here prefented to the Public, was the Son 
 of an eminent Attorney at Bridport in DorfetQiire. 
 After fpending fome years at a Grammar-School in that 
 County he was removed to Winchefter, and in 1780 
 eledled Fellow of New College, Oxford. In this fituation 
 he was eminently diftinguifhed by his claffical knowledge, 
 and an extenfive acquaintance with the bed Authors in 
 the French, Italian, Spanifh, Portuguefe, and German 
 languages. But his progrefs in literature was checked by 
 a lingering illnefs, which at length terminated in a con- 
 
 fumption
 
 ( VI ) 
 
 fumptioii of the lungs, and fliortly after in his death* 
 This event took place at Briftol, whither he had retired 
 for the recovery of his health, on the 31ft of July 1788, 
 in the twenty-fixth year of his age. 
 
 Whether the pieces contained in this colledion were ori- 
 ginally intended for publication, or not, is uncertain, but 
 it is hoped that they will do no difcredit to the memory 
 of the Author, and that fome allowance will be made for 
 any imperfedlions which may occur, when it is confi- 
 dered that he was prevented from corredling them by an 
 untimely death.
 
 ( ' ) 
 
 SONNE T. I. 
 
 In days of old, ere charm'd at length to reft 
 Stern Chivalry her idle fpear uphung, 
 Sweet mid loud arms the Minftrel's mufic rung ; 
 In each proud caftle, at the gorgeous feaft, 
 
 Mix d with bold Chiefs he fat, an honoured gueft ; 
 Cheer'd with the genial rites, his lyre he ftrung, 
 War, Love, the Wizard, and the Fay he fung, 
 And fir'd with rapture each impaffion'd breaft : 
 
 Such were the ftrains, which in her livelier prime 
 
 Bright Fancy pour'd; but ah! they're heard no more! 
 Yet is not Genius dead : the fong fublime 
 
 Might burft in tides as copious as of yore ; 
 
 But Want, grim Monfter, checks the raging rhyme, 
 And damps the Poet's wing outftretch'd to foar. 
 
 A
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 SONNET II. 
 
 Ah ! what avails It with adventurous pace 
 To fcale, fair Poefy, thy heights fublime ? 
 Tho' many a flower adorn the fragrant clime, 
 Oft chilling ftorms with envious blaft deface 
 
 Each opening bloom : meanwhile with lifted mace 
 High on the mountain's brow, in garb obfcene. 
 Sits Want, a Sped:re pale, whofe threatening mien, 
 Oft drives the Bard to quit th' unfinifli'd race : 
 
 Yet nobler Some, undaunted at his frown, 
 Up the fteep hill have trod the rugged way ; 
 Such fung the Redcross Knight, the Trojan Town,, 
 
 Brave Gama's toils, and Salem's bloody fray ; 
 Such too, with harder fate, tho' like renown. 
 Great -Ella's Minftrel pour'd his deathlefs lay.* 
 
 * Spenser, Homer, Camoens, Tasso, and Chatterton are the poets- allu- 
 ded to in the four concluding lines.
 
 ( 3 ) 
 
 SONNET Iir. 
 
 Oxford, fince late I left thy peaceful fliore, 
 Much I regret thy domes with turrets crown'd, 
 Thy crefted walls with twining ivy bound, 
 Thy Gothic fanes, dim ifles, and cloyfters hoar, 
 
 And treafur'd rolls of Wifdom's ancient lore ; 
 Nor lefs thy varying bells, which hourly found 
 In penlive chime, or ring in lively round, 
 Or toll in the flow Curfeu's folemn roar ; 
 
 Much too thy moonlight walks, and mufings grave 
 Mid filent fhades of high-embowering trees. 
 And much thy Sifter-Streams, whofe willows wave 
 
 In whifpering cadence to the evening breeze ; 
 
 But moft thofe Friends, whofe much-lov'd converfe gave 
 Thy gentle charms a tenfold power to pleafe. 
 
 A 2
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 SONNET. IV. 
 
 Yes, lov'd retreat, thofe wonted gales I know. 
 That filed foft fragrance o'er my drooping frame. 
 Sweet, as of old, when firft the youthful flame 
 Was kindled in my veins ; and now below 
 
 I fee thy various length of landfcape glow 
 
 With all it's cuflom'd blooms, it's groves the fame. 
 It's verdant lawns, and towers of antique fame. 
 And ftreams that gently murmur as they flow : 
 
 Now too the founds, that us'd my foul to cheer. 
 Thy mingled melodies of hill and plain, 
 Melt in faint murmurs on my ravifh'd ear : 
 
 But fay, will They too blefs my eyes again, 
 
 My Friends of yore ? if They no more appear, 
 Fair as thou art, thy other charms are vain.
 
 ( 5 ) 
 
 SONNET. V. 
 
 To the Author of the Arabian Nights Entertainments. 
 
 Kdi 'Zirov Ti KAi pi^orm <ppim$ 
 'TTTSp Tov rt-A^jS"); AoyoK 
 
 'E^ATTccToovTi f^vB-Qu Pindar. Olymp. i , 
 
 Blest Child of Genius, whofe fantaftic Sprite 
 Rides on the vollied lightning*s flafh, or roves 
 Thro' flowery valleys, and Elyflan groves, 
 Or, borne on venturous pinions, takes it's flight 
 
 To thofe dread realms, where hid from mortal fight 
 Fierce Genii roam, or where in bright alcoves 
 Mild Fairies reign, and woo their fecret loves j 
 Whate'er thy theme, whether the magic might 
 
 Of the ftern Kings, that dwell mid Ocean's roar,, 
 Or Sindbad's perils, or the cruel wiles 
 Of Afric's curft Enchanter charm us more, 
 
 Or ought more wondrous ftill our ear beguiles,. 
 Well-pleas'd we liften to thy fabling lore, 
 And Truth itfelf with lefs attradion fmiles..
 
 ( 6 ) 
 
 SONNET Vr. 
 
 TO BOCCACCIO.* 
 
 Not for thy Gothic Trumpet^s martial rage, 
 Not for thy Latian Bays, nor that 'twas thine 
 The Tufcan's rugged period to refine, 
 Nor yet, Boccaccio, that thy faithful page 
 
 Reflects the genuine manners of thy Age, 
 Nor that, enliven'd at thy fprightlier ftyle, 
 Pale Sorrow's Vidims fmooth the brow, and fmile ; 
 For nought of worth hke this, immortal Sage, 
 
 Hafte I to twine this garland round thy tomb ; 
 But that I oft have fhar'd Nastagio's fears 
 At his dread Vifion, oft have wept the doom 
 
 Of fair Ghismonda, funk in early years, 
 
 I crown thee with this chaplet's fimple bloom. 
 The Bard fublime of Terrour, and of Tears. 
 
 * Boccaccio wrote the Thefeida an Epic poem in Ottava Rima, and feveral Latin 
 works; but owes his reputation chiefly to the Decamerone, the ftyle of which is ftill 
 confidered as the ftandard of perfedlion in the Italian language. Among the many 
 humorous and licentious tales, which form this work, are fome of a more ferious cha- 
 racter. Such are the two here mention'd, which Dryden has imitated under the names 
 of Theodore and Honoria, Sigifmonda and Guifcardo.
 
 ( 7 ) 
 
 SONNET VII. 
 
 Sick with the pangs, that prompt the Lover's moan, 
 Long tender Taffo pin'd, but pin'd in vain : 
 Defpair at length and Frenzy fir'd his brain j 
 In lilenee oft he fat, and wept alone, 
 
 Oft rav'd aloud, and taught wild woods to groan ; 
 Oft too in fongs, if fongs might eafe his pain. 
 He pour'd his foul, changing the Trumpet's ftrain 
 For rural Reeds, and the Lute's amorous tone : 
 
 J, who like him whole years with tortur'd heart 
 Have woo'd, and vainly woo'd, as fair a Dame, 
 Feci thro' my boiling veins like madnefs dart i 
 
 So could I learn, like him, the lay to frame, 
 If She, if haply She, who caus'd my fmart, 
 Might deign to liften, and relieve my pain !;
 
 ( 8 ) 
 
 SONNET. VIIL 
 
 TO VALCLUSA. 
 
 What tho', Valclusa, the fond Bard be fled, 
 
 That woo'd his Fair in thy fequefter'd bowers, 
 Long lov'd her living, long bemoan'd her dead, 
 
 And hung her viflonary fhrine with flowers ! 
 What tho' no more he teach thy fhades to mourn 
 
 The haplefs chances that to Love belong, 
 As erft, when drooping o'er her turf forlorn 
 
 He charm'd wild Echo with his plaintive fong I 
 Yet ftill, enamour'd of the tender tale, 
 
 Pale Passion haunts thy grove's romantic gloom, 
 Yet ftill foft Muflc breathes in every gale, 
 
 Still undecay'd the Fairy-garlands bloom. 
 Still heavenly incenfe fills each fragrant vale. 
 
 Still Petrarch's Genius weeps o'er Laura's tomb.
 
 ( 9 ) 
 
 SONNET IX. 
 
 No more, fond Father of a much-lov'd Child, 
 Let thy fad heart, big with paternal fears, 
 Dread the rude ftorms, that wait his riper years ; 
 A Friend, who knows him generous, brave, and mild, 
 
 By Pride unfpoil'd, by Flattery unbeguiFd, 
 True to his promife, faithful to his truft, 
 Blind to his own, to others merit juft, 
 Nor ftain'd with Folly, nor with Vice defii'd, 
 
 And zealous ftill in Honour's arduous way 
 To emulate the race his Sire has run. 
 Tells thee, that if kind Heaven prolong his day 
 
 To mourn thy afhes, when thy life is done. 
 Thy fame fhall live unconfcious of decay, 
 And all thy virtues flourifh in thy Son. 
 
 B
 
 ( lO ) 
 
 SONNET X. 
 
 Could then the Babes from yon unflielter'd cot 
 
 Implore thy paffing charity in vain ? 
 Too thoughtlefs Youth ! what tho' thy happier lot 
 
 Infult their life of poverty and pain ! 
 What tho' their Maker doom'd them thus forlorn 
 
 To brook the mockery of the taunting throngs 
 Beneath th' Oppreffor's iron fcourge to mourn, 
 
 To mourn, but not to murmur at his wrong ! 
 Yet when their laft late evening fhall decline, 
 
 Their evening chearful, tho' their day diftreft, 
 A Hope perhaps more heavenly-bright than thine, 
 
 A Grace by thee unfought, and unpoflelt, 
 A Faith more fix'd, a Rapture more divine 
 Shall gild their paflage to eternal Reft.
 
 ( " ) 
 
 SONNET XI. 
 
 Too long, alas ! thro' Life's tempeftuous tide 
 Heedlefs of Heaven, my giddy courfe I fteer'd, 
 Link'd with the fcoffing crew, nor ought revered 
 Great Nature's God : fuch erring dreams belied 
 
 My Fancy, fwoln with unfubftantial pride : 
 
 While, uglier far than have been feign'd or fear'd, 
 Ten thoufand Phantoms to my fight appear'd, 
 And drew me darkHng far from truth afide. 
 
 But vigorous now, with eagle-ken reftor'd, 
 By nobler means aiming at nobler ends, 
 To the mild bofom of it's faving Lord, 
 
 Elate with ardent Hope, my Soul afcends, 
 
 While o'er the dreadful gulph, yet unexplor'd, 
 Religion's golden Sun it's evening-beam extends. 
 
 B 2
 
 ( 12 ) 
 
 SONNET XII. 
 
 Dear Babe, whofe meaning by fond looks expreft, 
 Thy only little eloquence, might move 
 The fterneft foul to tendernefs and love, 
 While thus, nor taught by Age to fawn, nor dreft 
 
 In Treachery's mafk, nor Falfehood's gliftering veft, 
 Thou fweetly fmileft, at the pleafing fight. 
 Wretch as I am, unwonted to Delight, 
 A tranfient gleam of gladnefs cheers my breaft: 
 
 Yet foon again burfts forth th' unbidden tear. 
 And inly bleeds my heart, while I divine 
 What chilling blafts may nip thy riper year, 
 
 What blackening fiorms may cloud thy life's decline ; 
 What for myfelf I feel, for Thee I fear : 
 Nay ! God forbid my w oes fhould e'er be thine !
 
 ( 13 ) 
 
 SONNET XIIL 
 
 Suppos'd to be written at Lemnos."^ 
 
 On this lone Ifle, whofe rugged rocks affright 
 The cautious pilot, ten revolving years 
 Great Pasan's Son, unv^^onted erft to tears^ 
 Wept o'er his wound : alike each rolling light 
 
 Of heaven he watch'd, and blam'd it's lingering flight. 
 By day the fea-mew fcreaming round his cave 
 Drove flumber from his eyes, the chiding wave^ 
 And favage bowlings chas'd his dreams by night. 
 
 Hope flill was his : in each low breeze, that figh'd 
 Thro' his rude grot, he heard a coming oar, 
 In each white cloud a coming fail he fpied j 
 
 Nor feldom liften'd to the fancied roar 
 Of Oeta's torrents, or the hoarfer tide 
 That parts fam'd Trachis from th' Euboic fliore. 
 
 * See that romantic and intereiling tragedj^, the Philodetes of SoEhocles,
 
 ( 14 ) 
 
 SONNET XIV. 
 
 To the Spider. 
 
 Ingenious Infedl, but of ruthlefs mould, 
 
 Whofe favage craft, as Nature taught, defigns 
 A mazy web of death, the filmy lines, 
 That form thy circling labyrinth, enfold 
 
 Each thoughtlefs Fly, that wanders near thy hold, 
 Sad vidlim of thy guile ; nor ought avail 
 His filken wings, nor coat of glofly mail, 
 Nor varying hues of azure, jet, or gold : 
 
 Yet, tho' thus ill the fluttering captive fares, 
 Whom heedlefs of the fraud thy toils trepan. 
 Thy tyrant-fang, that flays the ftranger, fpares 
 
 The bloody brothers of thy cruel clan ; 
 
 While Man againft his fellows fpreads his fnares, 
 Then moft delighted, when his prey is Man.
 
 ( IS ) 
 
 SONNET XV. 
 
 To the OwL 
 
 Grave Bird, that fhelter'd in thy lonely bower. 
 On fome tall oak with ivy overfpread, 
 Or in fome filent barn's deferted flied, 
 Or mid the fragments of fome ruin'd tower, 
 
 Still, as of old, at this fad folemn hour, 
 
 When now the toiling Sons of Care are fled, 
 And the freed Ghoft flips from his wormy bed, 
 Complainefl: loud of Man's ungentle power. 
 
 That drives thee from the chearful face of day 
 To tell thy forrows to the pale-eyed Night, 
 Like thee, efcaping from the funny ray, 
 
 I woo this gloom, to hide me from the fight 
 Of that fell Tribe, whofe perfecuting fway 
 On Me and Thee alike is bent to light.
 
 ( ^6 ) 
 
 SONNET XVI.* 
 
 Once more returned to curl the dimpling lake 
 
 Aufpicious Zephyr waves his downy wing, 
 Rouz'd at his touch the {lumbering flowers awake 
 
 With all the fmiling Family of Spring : 
 Again is heard the turtle's amorous tale, 
 
 Again the fwallow twitters o'er her neft. 
 Again wild mufic melts in every vale, 
 
 And love rekindHng glows in every breaft : 
 Thus they return : but ah ! to me no more 
 
 Return the pleafures of the vernal plain, 
 In vain for me refounds the vocal fliore, 
 
 And woods renew their verdant robes in vain ; 
 Nor counfel fweet of Friends can eafe my care, 
 
 Nor even the fweeter converfe of the Fair. 
 
 * The Italian reader will perceive a refemblance between this and the 269th Son- 
 net of Petrarch : 
 
 Zefiro torna, e'l bel tempo rimena &c.
 
 (17) 
 
 SONNET XVII. 
 
 Oh Thou, whofe poifon taints life's richeft feaft, 
 
 Thou Fiend, whom Fear on Love begot of yore, 
 Whom dark Sufpicion fofter'd at her breaft, 
 
 And Vengeance tutor 'd in his deadliefl: lore. 
 Oh Jealousy, whofe inly-rankling dart 
 
 Racks the fond bofom with unnumber'd throes, 
 That now, even now, art bufy at my heart, 
 
 Far hence avaunt, and leave me to repofe ! 
 Go in fome Stygian cave unheard to moan, 
 
 There night and day thy reftlefs eye-balls roll — • 
 Ah ! fpare me, fpare me, fince thy power I own ! 
 
 Nor thus, fo foon returning from controul, 
 In fize more huge, in fhape more hideous grown, 
 
 With tenfold horrours rufh upon my foul. 
 
 C
 
 ( i8 ) 
 
 SONNET XVIII. 
 
 From Petrarch.* 
 
 If, here reclining while I weep my woes, 
 
 The Turtle near me tells her plaintive tale, 
 Or headlong brook with warbling murmur flows, 
 
 Or green leaves ruftle to the fighing gale, 
 In each low found, that makes thefe rocks reply, 
 
 I feem my Laura's long-lofl voice to hear>- 
 And oft, bright beaming on my raptur'd eye, 
 
 Her charms more lovely than in life appear ; 
 A Naiad oft, emerging from the flood. 
 
 Graceful fhe feems to tread the dimpling wave. 
 Oft glides along, a Goddefs of the wood. 
 
 Oft fits, the Nymph of this fequefter'd cave, 
 Oft mounting beckons from a cloud of light. 
 
 Till Heaven at length receives her from my fights. 
 
 * Se lamentar augelli, o verdi fronde 
 
 Mover foavemente all' aura eftiva, 
 
 O roco mormorar di lucid' onde. 
 
 S' ode d' una fiorita, e frefca riva ; 
 La 'v' io feggia d' amor penfofo, e fcrlva ; 
 
 Lei, che' 1 Ciel ne moftro, terra n' afconde, 
 
 Veggio, ed odo, ed intendo. — 
 Or'^ in forma di Ninfa, o d' akra Diva, 
 
 Che del piu chiaro fondo di Sorga cfca, 
 
 E pongafi a feder in fu la riva ; 
 Or r ho veduta fu per 1' erba frefca 
 
 Calcar i fior, com' una donna viva. — Petrarc. Son. 239. 241,
 
 ( 19 ) 
 
 SONNET XrX. . 
 
 From Petrarch, f 
 
 Full twice ten years, pining with fond defire, 
 Love's Slave I liv'd, nor broke the galling chain, 
 Nor banifh'd hope, tho' hope was always vain ; 
 Ten more, thefe eyes, when Death's avenging ire 
 
 Snatch'd the dear Maid, to whom they dar'd afpire, 
 Wept o'er her grave, while ftill my plaintive firain 
 Told each fad Echo of thefe groves my pain : 
 But now, fince Time has quench'd th* unwilling fire. 
 
 This remnant of my days, with clouds o'ercafi:, 
 To thee, great God, whofe mercies never ceafe, 
 I meekly vow, to expiate the part ; 
 
 Praying, if prayer may ims like mine releafe. 
 By ftorms long toft to find a port at laft. 
 Long bruis'd in war at length to fleep in peace. 
 
 f Tennemi Amor' anni ventuno ardendo 
 
 Lieto nel foco, e nel duol pien di fpeme : 
 
 Poi che Madonna, e'l mio cor feco infieme 
 
 Saliro al ciel, dieci altri anni piangendo. 
 Omai fon ftanco — Le mie parti eftreme, 
 
 Alto Dio, at te divotamente rendo. — 
 
 Sicche, s' io viffi in guerra, ed in tempefla. 
 
 Mora in pace, ed in porto. — 
 
 C 2 Petrarc. Son, 312. 313.
 
 ( 20 ) 
 
 S O N E T T O 
 
 DI FAUSTINA MARATTI. 
 
 Donna, che tanto al mio bel Sol piacefti, 
 Che ancor de' pregi tuoi park fovente, 
 Lodando ora il bel crine, ora il ridente 
 Tug labbro, ed ora i faggi detti onefti ; 
 
 Dimmi, quando le voci a lui volgefti, 
 
 Tacque egli mai, qual' uom che nulla fente ? 
 
 O le turbate luci alteramente, 
 
 Come a me volge, a te volger vedefti ? 
 
 De' tuoi bei lumi alle due chiare faci 
 
 lo fo ch' egli arfe un tempo, e fo che allora - 
 Ma tu declini al fuol gli oechi vivaci ? 
 
 Veggo il roflbr, che le tue guance inhora : 
 Park, rifpondi ; ah ! non rifponder, taci, 
 Taci, fe mi vuoi dir, ch* ei t' ama ancora.
 
 ( 21 ) 
 
 SONNET XX. 
 
 Imitated from the preceding. 
 
 Too beauteous Rival, whofe enticing charms 
 
 Once to my heart's fole Darling feem'd fo fair, 
 That oft he praifes ftill thy ivory arms. 
 
 Thy ruby lips, blue eyes, and auburn hair ; 
 Say, when he heard thy tongue's feducing ftrain^ 
 
 Stood he e'er filent, or with fcorn replied. 
 Or turn'd with alter'd brow of cold difdain 
 
 From thy foft fmiles, as now from mine, afide ? 
 Once, once, too well I know, he held thee dear. 
 
 And then, when captive to thy fovereign will — 
 But why that look abafti'd, that ftarting tear, 
 
 Thofe confcious blufhes which my fears fulfil? 
 Speak, anfvver, fpeak ; nay anfwer not, forbear, 
 
 If thou mufl; anfwer, that he loves thee ftill.
 
 ( 22 ) 
 
 B E L I N D E. 
 
 EIN SONNET VON HERR GLEIM. 
 
 Das letztere leichtflatternde gevvand 
 
 Sank ! welch ein blick ! die artige Belinde 
 Ward urn und um ein fpiel der fanften winde, 
 Wo fie, wie Venus einft, auf Ida ftand. 
 
 Durch ihren reiz, durch ihre zarte hand, 
 
 Von der ich noch den fanften fcherz empfinde, 
 Durch alles was an ihr mein auge fand, 
 Flofs in mein herz das siille gift der siinde. 
 
 Erftaunt, entziickt, mir felber unbewufst, 
 Bemachtigte fich die gewalt der finnen, 
 Ach ! allzubald der tugend meiner bruft. 
 
 Du, der du fagft; Ich will den fieg gewinnen; 
 Ach ! lafs doch nie das siifTe gift der luft, 
 Lafs es doch nie nach deinem herzen rinnen.
 
 ( 23 ) 
 
 SONNET XXI. 
 
 Imitated from the preceding. 
 
 From, her fair limbs the laft thin veil fhe drew, 
 
 And naked flood in all her charms confeft, 
 The wanton gales her ringlets backward blew, 
 
 To fport themfelves more freely on her breaft : 
 From each warm beauty of th' uncover'd Maid, 
 
 Before fcarce guefs'd at, or but feen in part. 
 From all, for all was to my eyes difplay'd, 
 
 Delicious poifon trickled to my heart : 
 Since thus I gaz'd (was mine to gaze the blame ?) 
 
 Nor blifs my foul has tafted, nor repofe i 
 The fubtle venom glides thro' all my frame. 
 
 And in my brain a fiery deluge glows : 
 Thou, who my pangs wouldfl: ifhun, with wifer care 
 
 The fpot, where Cynthia bathes at noon, beware^
 
 ( 24 ) 
 
 S O N E T O 
 
 DE LUIZ DE CAMOENS. 
 
 A fermofura defta frefca ferra, 
 
 E a fombra dos verdes caftanheiros, 
 O manfo caminhar defies ribeiros, 
 Donde toda a trifteza fe defterra ; 
 
 O rouco fom do mar, a eftranha terra, 
 O efconder do Sol pelos outeiros, 
 O recolher dos gados derradeiros. 
 Das nuvens pelo ar a branda guerra ; 
 
 Em fim tudo o que a rara natureza 
 Com tanta variedade nos ofrece, 
 Me efta, fe nao te vejo, magoando : 
 
 Sem ti tudo me enoja, e me aborrece, 
 Sem ti perpetuamente eftou paffando 
 Nas mores alegrias mor trifteza.
 
 ( 25 ) 
 
 SONNET XXIL 
 
 Imitated from the preceding. 
 
 These hills that lift their verdant heads fo high, 
 Thefe towering palms that form a cooling fliade, 
 Thefe mofs-grown banks for peaceful flumbers made. 
 This lingering ftream that flows in fllence by, 
 
 The diftant-murmuring main, the Zephyr's figh, 
 The Sun that finks behind yon dufky glade, 
 The nibbling flocks that crop their evening blade, 
 Thofe glittering clouds that fringe the weftern fky ; 
 
 Each various beauty, which the vernal year 
 Pours out profufe on woodland, vale, or plain, 
 Each paftoral charm, fince thou no more art near, 
 
 Smiles not to thefe fad eyes, or fmiles in vain ; 
 Even fcenes like thefe a cheerlefs afped wear, 
 And pleafure fickens, till it turns to pain. 
 
 D
 
 ( 26 ) 
 
 S O N E T O 
 
 DE LUIZ DE CAMOENS. 
 
 Chorai, Ninfas, os Fados poderofos 
 Daquella foberana fermofura, 
 Onde forao parar na fepultura 
 Aquelles reaes olhos graciofos. 
 
 Oh bens do mundo falfos, e enganofos ! 
 Que magoas para ouvir, que tal figura 
 Jaza fern refplendor na terra dura, 
 Com tal roftro, e cabellos tao fermofos ! 
 
 Dos outras que fera, pois poder teve 
 A Morte fobre coufa tanto bella, 
 Que ella eclipfava a luz do claro dia ! 
 
 Mas o mundo nao era dio;no dclla : 
 Per iflb mais na terra nao efteve, 
 Ao Ceo fobio, que ja fe Ihe devia,
 
 ( 27 ) 
 
 SONNET XXIII. 
 
 Imitated from the preceding. 
 
 Weep, Nymphs of Tagus, weep the haplefs doom 
 Ordaiii'd by Fate, and Death's fevere decree, 
 Severe to all, but moft, alas ! to me, 
 In Youth's gay pride, in Beauty's early bloom 
 
 To fink the lov'd Ophelia to the tomb. 
 
 Heavens ! that fuch eyes, whofe orbs fo fweetly roll'd, 
 Such lips of rubies, and fuch locks of gold 
 So foon fhould moulder in eternal gloom ! 
 
 Tremble ye lefTer Stars ! if nought could fave 
 
 Charms, fuch as her's, from the foul (hades of night. 
 How foon fliall fade your glories in the grave ! 
 
 Yet ceafe my Soul to grieve ; her Heaven- born Sprite, 
 Too pure to linger in it's earthly cave, 
 Wing'd its free paffage to the realms of light. 
 
 D 2
 
 ( 28 ) 
 
 BAKXTAIAOX HAIAN. 
 
 n^dToV) Jtct) fj(,iXiyXu(r<Tuv a,oi^av civS'icif 
 SavB'a. <pXoyl fJLvi^la>i 
 
 Ev di (TiactpoaiTQKrt 
 
 XaXy,iay a cvk m c-ct,?\.7riyyuv kivttc?, 
 AjM-ov Off ^obX'^et Kictp:
 
 ( 29 ) 
 
 IMITATION 
 
 OF THE PRECEDING POEM. 
 
 Hail facred Peace I when thus thy fovereign word 
 
 Bids hoflile Nations flieath the flaughtering fword^ 
 
 Glad fees the Swain the curling vapours rife, 
 
 While altars blaze, and incenfe fills the fkies r 
 
 No more at midnight, fcar'd with dire alarms, 
 
 Pale Watchmen rouze the flumbering Youth to arms r 
 
 The lance imbrown'd with ruft, and rough with gore^ 
 
 Flames in the ruddy van of War no more : 
 
 In idle helms, and mails of alter'd hue 
 
 Well-pleas'd the Spider fpreads her fubtle clue : 
 
 To fighting toils athletic fports fucceed, 
 
 And to the trumpet's clang the rural reed : 
 
 Love, Laughter, Wine the fleeting hours employe 
 
 The dance of triumph, and the fong of joy.
 
 ( 30 ) 
 
 O D A 
 
 DEL MAESTRO FR. LUIS DE LEON.* 
 
 FoLGABA el Rey Rodrigo 
 Con la hermofa Caba en la ribera 
 De Tajo fin teftigo : 
 El pecho faco fuera 
 El Rio^ y le hablo de efla manera : 
 
 En mal punto tc goces 
 Injuflo Forzador, que ya el fonido, 
 Oyo ya y las voces, 
 Las armas y el bramido 
 De Marte, de furor y ardor cenido. 
 
 * Don Rodrigo, the laft of the Gothic Kings of Spain, having offered violence 
 to Caba the Daughter of Count Julian, that Nobleman to avenge himfclf of the injury, 
 brought ever the Saracens from Africa, who defeated Rodrigo in battle, and made 
 themfelves mailers of his Kingdom. See Mariana, Hift. de Efpana, 1. 6. c. 21, 22, 
 23. T his fine ode is printed in the ninth volume of a fele£tion of Spanifh poems pub- 
 lilhed at Madrid in the year 1772 under the title of el Parnafo Efpanol.
 
 ( 31 ) 
 
 Ay efa tu alegria 
 Que llantos acarrea ! y efa hermofa, 
 Que vio el Sol en mal dia, 
 A Efpana ay quan llorofa, 
 Y al ceptro de los Godos quan coftofa ! 
 
 Llamas, dolores, guerras, 
 Muertes, afolamientos, iieros males 
 Entre tus brazos cierrasj 
 Trabajos inmortales 
 A ti, y a tus vafallos naturales* 
 
 A los que en Conftantina 
 Rompen el fertil fuelo, a los que bana 
 El Ebroj a la vecina 
 Sanfuena, o Lufitana, 
 A toda la efpaciofa y trifle Efpana.
 
 ( 32 ) 
 
 Ya dende Cadiz llama 
 El injuriado Conde, a la venganza 
 Atento, y no a la fama, 
 La barbara pujanza, 
 En quien para tu dano no hay tardanza. 
 
 Oye que al cielo toca 
 Con temerofo fon la trompa fiera. 
 Que en Africa convoca 
 El Moro a la vandera, 
 Q^ue al ay re defplegada va ligera. 
 
 La lanza ya blandea 
 El Arabe cruel, y hiere al vento, 
 Llamando a la pelea : 
 Innumerable quento 
 De efquadras juntas vide in un momento.
 
 ( 33 ) 
 
 Cubre la gente el fuelo : 
 Debajo de las velas defparece 
 La mar ; la voz ad cielo 
 Confufa e varia crece ; 
 El polvo roba el dia, y le obfcurece. 
 
 Ay que ya prefurofos 
 Suben las largas naves ! ay que tienden 
 Los brazos vigorofos 
 A los remos, y encienden 
 Las mares efpumofas por do hienden ! 
 
 El Eolo derecho 
 Hinche la vela en popa, y larga entrada 
 Per el Herculeo eftrecho 
 Con la punta acerada 
 El gran Padre Neptuno da a la Armada. 
 
 E
 
 ( 34 ) ' 
 
 Ay trifle y aun te tiene 
 El mal dulce regazo, ni Uamado 
 Al mal que fobraviene 
 No acorres : ocupado 
 No ves ya el porto a Hercules fagrado ? 
 
 Acude, acorre, vuela, 
 Trafpafa el alta fierra, ocupa el Uanoj^ 
 No perdones la efpuela. 
 No des paz a la mano, 
 Menea fulminando el hierro infano* 
 
 Ay quanto de fatiga, 
 Ay quanto de dolor efta prefente 
 Al que bifte loriga, 
 Al Infante valiente, 
 A hombres y a cabal los juntamente [
 
 I 35 ) 
 
 Y tu Betis divino, 
 De fangre agena y tuya amancillado, 
 Daras al mar vecino 
 Quanto yelmo quebrado ! 
 Quanto cuerpo de Nobles deftrozado ! 
 
 El furibundo Marte 
 Cinco luces las haces defordena, 
 Ignal a cada parte : 
 La fexta ay ! te condena. 
 O cara patria ! o barbara cadena ! 
 
 E 2
 
 ( 36 ) 
 
 ODE 
 
 Imitated from the preceding. 
 
 L 
 
 While on bright Tago's banks reclin'd,. 
 
 And all to Love's foft joys relign'd, 
 Rodrigo panted on fair Caba's breaft^ 
 
 Sudden, a Seer of future woes, 
 
 The River's awful God arofe. 
 And thus with boding groans the fearlefs Chief addreft, 
 
 11. 
 
 In vain, while horrours round thee rife^ 
 
 Thy arms enfold their ravifh'd prize, 
 The prize fo fatal to thy princely line : 
 
 Soon jfhall the Moor, fo Fate has faid^.. 
 
 Avenge the violated Maid, 
 And wreft Iberia's throne from Odin's race divine.
 
 ( 37 ) 
 
 III. 
 
 In vain, with Gothic pride elate,^ 
 
 To fuit thy fliadowy dream of ftate, 
 Corduba rears her gilded roof on high : 
 
 No Child of thine in years to come 
 
 Shall revel in the gorgeous dome: 
 It's alter'd Echoes now to barbarous tongues reply >- 
 
 IV. 
 
 On Calpe's rocks with threatening hand 
 
 I fee the injur'd Father ftand,. 
 All- torn his beard, and rent his hoary hair r 
 
 See, now he points to Libya's coaft,- 
 
 Now hails aloud the turban'd hoft, 
 And waves his purple flag of vengeance in the air I. 
 
 V. 
 
 With oarsj that fparkle to the Sun^ 
 
 Swift o'er the level waves they run. 
 Their broad fails whiten on the crouded main ; 
 
 And now their clafhing arms I hear, 
 
 The trumpet's clang invades my ear,, 
 Loud neigh the fiery fteeds, and paw the rattling plain :
 
 38 
 
 VI. 
 
 With Ceuta's race, renown'd in fight, 
 
 Fierce Barca's fwarthy Sons unite ; 
 Tunis her mooned enfigns wide difplays ; 
 
 With flaming fcymetar and fliield 
 
 Morocco's fquadrons fhake the field, 
 On Allans name they call, and fhout the Prophet's praife. 
 
 VII. 
 
 O'er her rich meads with lifted lance 
 
 Fair Betis fees their ranks advance, 
 Proud Seville hears, Granada fhakes with dread, 
 
 Sad Douro liftens to the roar. 
 
 Ill-fated Minho foams with gore. 
 And diftant Ebro groans with mountains of the dead. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 To arms, great Chief, to arms with fpeed ! 
 
 Let the fvvord rage, the battle bleed ! 
 Ken'ft thou not yet th' approaching ftorm from far ? 
 
 Bid, bid thy Knights their faulchions wave. 
 
 Nor thou be flow the day to fave. 
 But like a Comet blaze in the dark van of war !
 
 ( 39 ) 
 
 IX. 
 
 Yet ah ! in vain : nor fpear, nor fpell 
 
 The ruthlefs Saracen can quell, 
 That crufh'd ftern Afric with his iron yoke: 
 
 He fafely fheath'd in ribs of mail 
 
 Defies thy fharpeft arrowy hail. 
 Laughs at the javelin's hifs, and mocks the fabre's ftroke. 
 
 X. 
 
 Five bloody Suns with headlong rage 
 
 Each hoft an equal war fhall wage, 
 Each fee by turns his doubtful fcale afcend ^ 
 
 The fixth fhall view thy flight forlorn. 
 
 Thy fhatter'd arms, thy banners torn, 
 While Spain's proud neck beneath the vidor's heel fhall 
 bend.
 
 { 40 ) 
 
 THE MANIAC. 
 
 Tho' Grief had nipp'd her early bloom, 
 
 Young Julia ft ill was fair : 
 The rofe indeed had left her cheeky 
 
 The lily flill was there. 
 
 Tho' of all other adions paft 
 
 Her memory bore no part, 
 The dear remembrance of her love 
 
 Still linger'd in her heart. - . 
 
 Long in that heart had reign'd alone 
 
 A fwain of equal youth, 
 Of equal beauty too with her's, 
 
 But not of equal truth. 
 
 Whole years her yielding breafl: he footh'd 
 
 With paffion's tender tale ; 
 Till Avarice call'd him from her arms 
 
 O'er the wide fcas to fail.
 
 ( 41 ) 
 
 With many a vow of quick return 
 
 He crofs'd the briny tide, 
 But when a foreign (hore he reach'd, 
 
 Soon found a wealthier bride. 
 
 Poor Julia ficken'd at the news, 
 
 Yet never told her pain, 
 Long on her fecret foul it prey'd, 
 
 And turn'd at laft her brain. 
 
 From Brethren, Parents, houfe, and home 
 
 The mourning Maniac fled ; 
 The iky was all her roof by day, 
 
 A bank by night her bed. 
 
 When thirfl: and hunger griev'd her moft, 
 
 If any food (he took, 
 It was the berry from the thorn. 
 
 The water from the brook.
 
 ( 42 ) 
 
 Now hurrying o'er the heath flie hied, 
 Now wander'd thro' the wood, 
 
 Now o'er the precipice fhe peep'd, 
 Now flood and eyed the flood. 
 
 From every hedge a flower flie pluck'd. 
 And mofs from every ftone, 
 
 To make a garland for her Love, 
 Yet left it ftill undone. 
 
 Still, as fl^ ramWed, was flie wont 
 
 To trill a plaintive fong, 
 'Twas wild, and full of fancies vain^ 
 
 Yet fuited well her wrong. 
 
 All loofe, yet lovely, to the wind 
 
 Her golden treffes flew, 
 And now alas ! with heat were fcorch'dj 
 
 And now were drench 'd with dew.
 
 ( 43 ) 
 
 No Friend was left the tears to wipe 
 That dimm'd her radiant eyes. 
 
 Yet oft their beams like thofe would fliine 
 That gleam from watry Udes. 
 
 Oft too a foile, . b*Dt not of joy, - 
 Play'd on her -brow .o'ercaft ; 
 
 It was the faint cold iinile of Spring, 
 Ere Winter yet is pafcrrr': •' 
 
 Ji.- 
 
 Thofe forrowsj which her tongue conceal'd, 
 
 Her broken fighs confeft ; 
 Her cloak was too much torn to hide 
 
 The throbbings of her breaft. 
 
 From all, who near her chanc'd to ftray, 
 
 With wild affright fhe ran ; 
 Each voice that reach'd her fcar'd her breaft. 
 
 But moft the voice of Man. 
 
 F 2
 
 ( 44. ) 
 
 To me alone, when oft we met, 
 
 Her ear fhe would incline, 
 And with me weep, for well flie knew 
 
 Her woes refembled mine. 
 
 One morn I fought her ; but too late — 
 Her wound had bled fo fore — 
 
 God reft thy Spirit, gentle Maid I 
 Thou'rt gone for evermore !
 
 ( 45 ) 
 
 TO CERVANTES. 
 
 Great Sage, whofe wand at one commanding ftroke 
 
 Each antique pile of Elfin fabric broke, 
 
 From midnight Spectres purg'd the Sorcerer's cell. 
 
 And burft ftern Chivalry's fantaftic fpell, 
 
 Tho' on thy toil applauding Truth has fmiFd, 
 
 And Reafon hails thee as her favorite Child, 
 
 Romantic Fancy ftill, that lov^d to roam 
 
 Thro' the drear defert, and enchanted dome. 
 
 To view the perils of adventurous Knight 
 
 In ftately tournament, or hardy fight, 
 
 To hear of GJants gorg'd with human blood, 
 
 Of Dragons lurking in the charmed wood. 
 
 Of Paynim-Foes in fable fteel array'd. 
 
 The Dwarf attendant, and the Warriour-Maid, 
 
 Of herbs unblefl: that drug the witching bowl, 
 
 And talifmans that earth and air controul,
 
 ( 46 ) 
 
 Of chryftal globes which future fates unfold, 
 And amber ftreams that roll o^er fands of gold, 
 Of fragrant ifles which diamond rocks furround, 
 Of wailing Ghofts in iron durance bound, 
 Of fiery walls to Demon-Guards affign'd, 
 Of laboring Fiends to hollow mines confin'd, 
 Of warning voices fent from opening graves, 
 Of gaudy pageants feen in twilight caves, 
 Of viewlefs harps that breathe from airy bowers, 
 Of golden bridges rais'd by Goblin-Powers, 
 Of winged fteeds thro' fields of air that foar, 
 And magic barks that fpeed from fhore to fiiore ; 
 Fancy, that erft on. dreams like thefe repos'd, 
 Unwilling fees the Fairy Vifion clos'd ; 
 Sighs, while diflblving fades the wondrous fiiow. 
 To fee bright Fidion's robe no longer glow ; 
 And weeping blames the ruthlefs hand that tore 
 The myftic veil by Genius weav'd of yore.
 
 C 47 ) 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 Addrefs'd to a young Man who was difgufted with 
 
 Ox FORD. 
 
 Say thou, whom Oxford doom'd thy prime to wafle 
 A prey to Melancholy's moping power, . 
 
 What envious fpell forbad thy lips to tafte 
 
 The fweets that bloom'd profufely round thy bower ? 
 
 Say, o'er this vale when blackening mifts were fpread, 
 Did ne'er the golden Sun bring back the day. 
 
 With kindlier verdure cloathe the fragrant mead, 
 And each dark grove in livelier tints array ? 
 
 Did no gay landfcapes deck fair Cher well's fhore ? 
 
 Were no wild warblings echoed on her ftream ? 
 Did ne'er the whitening fail, or fparkling oar 
 
 On the bright waves of beauteous Is is gleam ?
 
 ( 48 ) 
 
 And ah ! had Art no charms to footh thy breaft ? 
 
 Could heavenly Mufic never eafe thy pain ? 
 Did Attic domes upheave the glittering creft, 
 
 And the warm marble breathe for thee in vain ? 
 
 Say didft thou never, never haply pafs 
 
 Where Wykeham rear'd his gorgeous fane on high, 
 To gaze with rapture on the ftoried glafs, 
 
 Whofe hues with Titian's or with Nature's vie? 
 
 Did Learning vainly fpread her various page 
 
 To lure thine eyes, which Scorn had turn'd afide ? 
 
 Could nor the Wit delight thee, nor the Sage, 
 Nor Truth with Fancy, Tafte with Senfe allied ? 
 
 Did chance ne'er give thee, if not choice, a Friend, 
 Whofe ibcial converfe might thy cares beguile,- 
 
 Whofe mild reproof thy follies might amend, 
 
 Whofe mirth might teach thee 'twas no crime to fmile ?
 
 ( 49 ) 
 
 Did no fair Damsel lull thy vacant mind 
 (As mine is lull'd) to think on her alone ? 
 
 That charm had driven thy forrows to the wind : 
 For Love can cure all troubles but his own. 
 
 If nought of this thy Soul from Spleen could fave, 
 Back, penfive Youth, back to thy cell forlorn ! 
 
 Go, fadly feek it, as a Ghoft his grave ; 
 
 For where is Joy, if here be caufe to mourn ? 
 
 G
 
 ( so ) 
 
 TO SILENCE, 
 
 Oh Silence, Maid of penfive mien, 
 That liv'ft unknown, unheard, unfeen. 
 
 Within thy fecret cell, 
 A pilgrim to thy fhrine I come ; 
 Oh lead me to thy hallow'd home,, 
 
 That I with thee may dwell ! 
 
 Say, doft thou love to drink the dew 
 That trickles from the church-yard yew 
 
 At midnight's ftilleft hour ; 
 Or wrapt in melancholy fit 
 In fome dear charnel-houfe to fit. 
 
 Or fome difmantled tower ? 
 
 Ah no! the hoarfe night-raven's fong; 
 Forbids thee there to linger long, 
 
 When darknefs fiirouds the coaft ; 
 There too complains the wakeful owl. 
 With many a yelling Demon foul, 
 
 And many a fhrieking Ghoft.
 
 ( 51 ) 
 
 Or with thy Sifter Solitude 
 
 Dweirft thou, mid Ada's deferts rude, 
 
 Beneath fome craggy rock, 
 Where nor the roving robber hies, 
 Nor Arab fees his tent arife. 
 
 Nor fliepherd folds his flock ? 
 
 Yet even in that fequefter'd fphere 
 The ferpent's hifs aflails thy ear, 
 
 And fills thee with affright. 
 While lions, loud in angry mood, 
 And tigers, roaming for their food. 
 
 Rage dreadful thro' the night. 
 
 Or doft thou near the frozen pole. 
 Where flumbering feas forget to roll. 
 
 Brood o'er the ftagnant deep. 
 Where nor is heard the dafhing oar. 
 Nor wave, that murmurs on the fhore, 
 
 To break thy charmed fleep ? 
 
 G 2
 
 ( 52 ) 
 
 Yet there each bird of harfheft cry, 
 That bravely wings the wintry fky, 
 
 Screams to the northern blaft, 
 While on each ice-built mountain hoar» 
 That parting falls with hideous roar, 
 
 Grim monfters howl ashaft. 
 
 Then where, ah tell me ! fhall I find 
 Thy haunt untrodden by mankind^ 
 
 And undifturb'd by noife, 
 Where, hufli'd with thee in calm repofej 
 I may forget life's tranfient woes,. 
 
 And yet more tranfient joys ?
 
 f S3 ) 
 
 VERSES 
 
 On hearing a Lady fing to her two Daughters who 
 were dancingr a minuet. 
 
 C7 
 
 Ye feeling few, who joys refin'd can prove. 
 And tafte the elegant delights of love. 
 Who oft, when fcenes of heart-felt blifs appear^ 
 Heave the foft figh, and fhed the filent tear. 
 See what alone mlo-ht vice itfelf controuL 
 And wake to virtuous extafy the foul T 
 See the fond Parent with officioua care 
 To mealur'd motion form her darling pair f 
 Her voice attempering leads th* obedient pace, 
 Guides the juft air, and moulds the infant grace, 
 While as they move unbidden beauties rife, 
 Bloom on their cheeks, and Hghten in, their eyes-.
 
 ( 54 ) 
 
 And Thou, whom reahns unkind beyond the main 
 From fuch an Offspring, fuch a Spoufe detain, 
 How would thy throbbing heart at once unite 
 The Hufband's love, the Father's fond delight, 
 To fee fuch beauties in one groupe combine. 
 And all the Mother in the Daughters (Line I 
 For Me meanwhile, who, tho' to thee unknown, 
 Can in thy kindred virtues love thy own, 
 Can the fond Hufband in the Wife admire, 
 And in the Children venerate the Sire, 
 Enough fuch charms with filent joy to praife. 
 Retire at diftance, and with reverence gaze.
 
 ( 55 ) 
 
 TO DELIA. 
 
 'Tis not a cheek that boafts the ruby's gloWy 
 
 The neck of ivory, or the breaft of fnow, 
 
 'Tis not a dimple known fo oft to charm, 
 
 The hand's foft polifli, or the tapering arm, 
 
 'Tis not the braided lock of golden hue^ 
 
 Nor reddening lip that fwells with vernal dew, 
 
 'Tis not a fmile that blooms with young delire, 
 
 'Tis not an eye that fheds celeftial fire. 
 
 No Delia, thefe are not the fpells that move 
 
 My heart to fold thee in eternal love, 
 
 But 'tis th^t Soul which from fo fair a frame 
 
 Looks forth, and tells us 'twas from Heaven it came*
 
 ( 56 ) 
 
 TO ZEPHYR. 
 
 I? loitering thro' the noon-tide hour 
 Young Zephyr near my Delia's bower 
 
 Thou haply chance to rove, 
 Pafs not, as erft, unheeding by, 
 But waft at leaft one gentle flgh 
 
 To tell her of my love. 
 
 So from each bank where violets bloom 
 Still mayft thou fteal a new perfume 
 
 To fcent thy fpicy gale, 
 So mayft thou foon in amorous play 
 Incline thy own coy favorite May 
 
 To liften to thy tale.
 
 ( 57 ) 
 
 TO DELIA. 
 
 Since thought but adds to my regret, 
 
 To fleep my eyelids I refign, 
 If haply fo I may forget 
 
 That firft enchanting fmile of thine : 
 
 In vain ; the fame enchanting fmile 
 In every fleeting dream appears, 
 
 And ftill more furely to beguile 
 
 Each charm that haunts me waking wears : 
 
 Ah then, in pity to my pain. 
 
 And all my doubts at once to fmother. 
 Take back that one dear fmile again. 
 
 Or oh 1 confirm it by another. 
 
 H
 
 ( S8 ) 
 
 AN EIN VEILCHEN. 
 
 Von C. F. Weisse. 
 
 Me IN Veilchen, lafs die fchmeicheleyeii 
 Des jungen Zephyrs dieh nicht reuen, 
 
 Du unfrer garten erfte Zier ! 
 Dich foil ein fchoner loos begliicken ; 
 Den fchonften bufen follft du fckmiicken^ 
 
 Und alle Grazien mit dir. 
 
 Ja, an dem bufen von Selinden 
 
 Sollft du den ftolzen wohnplatz finden ! — 
 
 Vor freuden, feh ich, zitterft du : 
 Hier lafs dich ftolzre blumen neiden^ 
 Und duft ihr dankbar alle freuden 
 
 Der siiffeften geriiche zu !
 
 ( 59 > 
 
 Geh hin zu ihren fchonen handen ! 
 Durch dich, mein gliicke zu vollenden, 
 
 Sey ihr mein treues herz erklart ! — 
 Umfonft ! wie konnte diefs gefchehen ? 
 Wie bald, wie bald wirft du vergehen, 
 
 Da ewig meine liebe wahrt !' 
 
 H 2
 
 ( 6o ) 
 
 TO A VIOLET. 
 
 Imitated from the two firft ftanzas of the preceding 
 
 Poem, 
 
 Tho' from thy bank of velvet torn^ 
 
 Hang not, fair Flower, thy drooping creft ^^ 
 
 On Delia's bofom {halt thou find 
 A fofter fweeter bed of reft, 
 
 Tho' from mild Zephyr's kifs no more 
 
 Ambrofial balms thou fhalt inhale,. 
 Her gentle breath, whene'er flie fighs,^ 
 
 Shall fan thee with a purer gale. 
 
 But Thou be grateful for that blifs 
 
 For which in vain a thoufand burn. 
 And, as thou ftealeft fweets from her, 
 
 Give back thy choiceft in return.
 
 ( 6i ) 
 
 THE F A R E W E L. 
 
 Adieu ! thou darling of my heart, 
 
 Whom never more thefe eyes fiiall view ;, 
 
 Yet once again, before we part, 
 Nymph of my foul, again adieu ! 
 
 Yet one kifs more : this kifs, the laft 
 That I will aflc, or thou fhalt give^, 
 
 Tho' on my lips it dies too faft. 
 Shall always in my memory live.. 
 
 But thou each tender thought of me: 
 
 Blot out for ever from thy breaft,. 
 Nor heed what pangs I feel for thee, 
 
 While with another thou art bleft.
 
 ( 62 ) 
 
 To him, whom Heaven has made thy mate, 
 Thus, thus thy beauties I refign ; 
 
 He boafts, alas ! a happier fate, 
 But not a purer flame than mine. 
 
 Yet let him make thy blifs his care, 
 
 As I, thou know'fl it, would have done^ 
 
 My love for thy fake he fliall fhare, 
 My envy only for his own. 
 
 THE END.
 
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