t • U^' Cw ^-~ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES $-# MELANCHOLY HOURS. COLLECTION OF fflimllmtow $oem& G. WOODFALL, PRINTEK, ANGEL COURT, SKINNER STREET, LONDON. MELANCHOLY HOURS. COLLECTION iHtscdlaneous $oems. " Go — you may call it madness, folly — You shall not chase my gloom away ; There's such a charm in melancholy — I would not, if I could, be gay !" — ROGERS. LONDON: PRINTED FOR JOHN RICHARDSON, ROYAL EXCHANGE. 1816. FT? PREFACE. It will neither be deemed interest- ing or necessary, to enter into a detail of the " birth, parentage, and edu- cation," of the Author of the follow- ing Poems ; since it cannot add to their merits, or extenuate their faults. A few of them have, at different times, appeared in the pages of a periodical publication. They are now presented to the Public in a collected form. Though " Zelia" may be thought to bear some faint resemblance to one of those Poems which have so justly called Clfy,*"* n VI PREFACE. forth the admiration of the World, the Author cannot even be suspected of plagiarism, when it is stated, that the piece was written in 1812, long before the Poem alluded to was published. Little can be said of the other com- positions : they are generally written under a fictitious character, and many of the woes described in " Melancholy Hours," exist only in the imagination of the Writer. — It is needless to say more on so trifling a subject ; — into the hands of the Public the Volume is re- spectfully committed ! — London, 1816. CONTENTS. Page To Sleep 1 To Rosa on her Wedding Day 4> Stanzas, " Mark the beauteous opening Flower" 7 Farewell To 9 Stanzas, " When the soft smiling Visions" 10 To " A few brief Years" 12 To Fancy 14 Lines written on returning from a Party ... 16 Lines written near the Grave of Laura 18 To a Friend 20 Written in a severe Thunder Storm 22 Woman 24 To Memory 27 Stanzas, " The World has neither Bliss or Woe" 29 VU1 CONTENTS. Page To — " Tis past, and I will love no more" 30 The Amulet Cross 32 The Dream 33 To — — — " Tho' Fortune ever has been kind" 35 Lines, " When the Heart" 37 The Ring 38 From the Italian 39 On seeing the Marriage of a Lady in the Paper 40 Stanzas, " Yes, Friendship is an empty Sound" 42 Lines written at Malvern Wells 44 To a Lady going abroad 45 Fancy 47 Stanzas, " Yes, thou art gone" 48 Lines, " You say when Years" 51 written in December 49 To " And do you then think ? 53 To Life 55 Stanzas, " How sweet are the Dreams" 57 From the Italian 58 CONTENTS. IX Page. Valentine 60 A Character 62 To Julia 63 On Anacreon's Odes 65 To a Time-Piece „ 68 Stanzas, " Oh ! canst thou" 71 On a Picture 73 To " Oh ! strike the magic Harp again" 74 Fairy Revels, a Fragment... 75 To Night 76 To weeping 77 Impromptu 79 Music (Imitation of Moore) 80 Acrostic 82 Lines, " Fare thee well" 83 Written on the Sea-Shore by Moonlight..... 85 Written at the Isle of Wight 87 Description of 89 Adieu 91 Imitation of Lord Byron 93 Farewell to Hope 94 Thought in a Bali-Room 95 Friendship „ 96 X CONTENTS. Page Stanzas, " The fairy Hours of Life are o'er" 98 Love 99 Imitation of Anacreon 101 Written in Lord Byron's Poems 102 Stanzas, " I was of every Joy bereft" 104 On the Death of a Youth 106 Romance 109 To a Youth who asked what Love was Ill The same Subject 113 Valentine in the style of Anacreon .., 115 To Rosa, on her killing a Bee 119 To " who disliked Poetry" 121 Written in the Novel of Waverley 123 On the Death of a young Officer 126 Stanzas to a faded Rose 129 Stanzas, " Howchang'dtomethisglitt'ring Scene" 131 Stanzas, "Oh! do not think, because awhile" 133 Stanzas, " Well, well, I feel I should not mourn" 136 Zelia, a Tale 141 CONTENTS. SONGS. Page Zclie, a Ballad 159 Send round the Wine 163 Strike the Harp 166 Serenade 168 I saw thy Bosom heave a Sigh 170 Oh! yes I swear 172 Oh ! Rosa, &c 173 It is not when Tear-drops 174 Anacreontic 176 Oh! Rosa, when I view thy Charms 177 The Sailor slumb'ring 179 Joy once whisper'd 180 Fitzallan, a Ballad 182 'Tis sweet to steal 184? No! I can ne'er forget the Smile... 185 JU ^U *£* ***-"; W *t«&~+j ^ TO SLEEP. WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT. Oh ! Sleep ! capricious wayward power, That fly'st the gloomy couch of pain, Thy lulling opiates round me shower, Let me forget the world again ! Forget ! — alas ! this burning brain, This beating heart can never rest ; Thou canst not bind them in thy chain, Thou canst not heal a wounded breast ! The world is hush'd in calm repose, And busy crowds are sunk to sleep : — Now memory lingers on her woes — The mourner starts — and wakes to weep ! I wake — a long — lone watch to keep Through hours of darkness — nights of gloom When shall I sink worn out to sleep Within the silent — peaceful tomb ? When shall I taste oblivion's stream, And leave a world of woe and care ? When end life's long and troubled dream ? When cease to breathe, and to despair ? Sorrow alone has been the share Allotted me through life's dull round ; Afflictions heavy, hard to bear — And woes unnumber'd I have found ! — Oh ! for the rest no care can break, Where troubling dreams can never come ; Oh ! for that sleep which none can wake, Within the cold — but peaceful tomb ! For death presents no thoughts of gloom To one whose heart is worn with care ; No ! 'tis a kind, a joyful doom, A welcome respite from despair ! Around my lone and silent grave, No sable mourners shall appear ; The cypress in the wind shall wave Its foliage dark around my bier ; 3 I ask no eye to shed a tear — 'Tis all I ask to be at rest ; None that I love now linger here, And strangers' pity is but jest. Unknown I've liv'd — unknown I'll die — And quit this world of care and woe, And none shall point to where I lie, No busy hand my grave shall shew. And she — so false — shall never know Where rests the heart she would not save ; She — the -fair cause of all my woe — • Shall never triumph o'er my grave ! * * I 2 & ■ . ' TO ROSA, ON HER WEDDING DAY. De a r Rosa, on thy nuptial day, ( A day alas ! full sad to me, ) Accept this trifling feeble lay, A tribute due from Love to thee. From Love — which ne'er will cease to hold It's empire o'er this wretched heart, Until its vital stream is cold, And life shall from these limbs depart. This breast with ardour still must burn, 'Till Death in mercy sets me free ; These eyes 'till closed by him will turn Their fondest — latest glance on thee ! Yet think not I regret to know, That B reigns within thy heart ; He was my earliest friend — but oh ! I little dream'd we thus should part ! No ! — I'll not hate him — he is thine— Thou lov'st him — and thy choice was free ;- When thou art blest — can I repine ? I feel I ne'er was worthy thee. Yes, Rosa, yes — this breaking heart, Though now for ever robb'd of rest, Without a sigh from thee can part, Content to know — that thou art blest. Oh ! may a length of smiling years, To thee by Providence be giv'n ;— With ev'ry joy that life endears, Partaking less of earth than Heav'n. May mem'ry's retrospective view Deck all the past in brightest bloom, And flatt'ring Hope be near to strew Her fairy flow'rs on days to come. And Rosa — though ray aching breast Distracting grief will ever tear ; My woes shall never break thy rest, My Love, shall ne'er offend thine ear ! But— when the last — sad — sullen bell — Marks my slow passage to the grave ; — Then, think on him who loved too well, Then, pity him, thou would'st not save ! Then, give one sigh to him who ne'er Through life can cease to sigh for thee ; Who'll bless thee in the fait' ring pray'r, Which sets his weary spirit free. Oh ! dare I hope one tender tear From thee would mourn my hapless doom ; The thought would calm my sorrows here, And smooth my passage to the tomb ! STANZAS. jVIark the beauteous open'ng flow'r, Blushing in the sunny glade, Child of Summer's transient hour, Soon its glowing tints must fade. And the days of Youth will vanish Fleeter than the flow'ret's bloom ; Care and age we cannot banish, They must lead us to the tomb. What are all the joys and pleasures, Which in this dull World we find ?- Empty visions, glitt'ring treasures, Leaving nothing good behind. Endless toils, and cares, and sorrow, Meet us in Life's rugged way ; What a night ! — if never morrow Broke to shed a cheering ray ! See ! the flow'r, which sun-beams cherish, Pines away when Summer flies ; All its beauties quickly perish, With its tints, its perfume dies. — Winter cannot la&tfor ever, Spring will soon resume its reign ; Dress the Earth in smiles, but never Shall that flow'ret bloom again. But the Soul, that's firm to duty, 'Midst this tide of human woe, Blooms again, in greater beauty, Than on Earth it ere could know ; Then the heart releas'd from sadness, Smiles at ills, that wound no more ; Then the tear is chang'd to gladness, Sorrow's transient reign is o'er. FAREWELL TO Farewell ! — we part to meet no more — But this one pang, and all is past ; — The dreaded hour will soon be o'er, And I shall look and love my last f Shall love my last ? ah ! no, my heart Tells me that hour can never come : — My thoughts with thee can only part, When they sink with me in the tomb ! Yet what avails it now to tell How this sad, broken heart has loved ? — How fond, how faithfully, how well, How true to thee it would have proved !— In secret I'll my griefs endure — Thy morn of joy I'll not o'ercast With woes that now can find no cure, And which with life must soon be past ! 10 STANZAS. When the soft smiling visions of Youth have all faded, And no object seems left our lone bosoms to cheer ; When the gay morn of life, clouds and darkness have shaded, And the friends who once brighten'd our path disappear ; When Hope's transient beams have withdrawn their faint light, And deception has shrouded our pleasures with sorrow ; Say, can the sad eye ever look through that night To the day-star of Joy which may rise on the morrow ? 11 Oh ! yes ! for the storms of vexation will cease, And the dark clouds of sorrow will soon roll away; Contentment will soothe our lone bosoms to peace, And the warm sun of pleasure redouble his ray. Then with patience oh ! let us await his bright rising, Convinced that though late, he must sometime appear ; Pursuing our way, life's light sorrows despising — And trusting that smiles will soon follow the tear. 12 TO A few brief years have wing'd their flight, (Time on his circle never rests) Since Friendship shed its hallow'd light, Within our pure and artless breasts. Our souls were then as free from guile, As Heav'n's own peaceful vestal ray ; And underneath th' endearing smile, Deception lurk'd not to betray. We sought instruction from the sage, And trod together Learning's bowers, •Sigh'd o'er the poet's melting page, And cull'd the Muses' fairest flowers. 13 Early our sun of friendship rose, Oh ! I had hoped (but that is past,) Its evening beam would brightly close, And sweetly light us to the last ! These thoughts are o'er — too quickly fled The hope which cheer'd my early dreams ; I mourn thee — as I mourn the dead For such to me thy mem'ry seems. Around my unsuspecting heart, Thine image had so closely twin'd, That when the links were torn apart, A dreary void was left behind. And still within my lonely breast, — Though now the fond delusion's o'er ; The thought of thee must ever rest, But this sad heart can trust no more. 14 TO FANCY. Oh ! Fancy, gentle power, Thou com'st at midnight hour To deck my aching brows with visions wild ; And through the gloom of night, Thou shedd'st thy cheering light, And often hast this heart of care and grief be- guil'd. Then let the tempest roar, And heavy 4orrents pour, With light'nings mixing in the affrighted sky ; Borne in thy magic car, I leave their rage afar, And dream of softer climes and brighter scenes on high ! 15 I heed not the bleak wind, Nor feel his rage unkind, For sweetest visions bless my slumb'ring sense ; But ah ! the sun's bright ray Too soon awakes the day, And calls those soothing airy phantoms hence ! Return oh ! gentle night, Soft Fancy, let thy light Still shed its cheering flame to make me blest ; With thee I cannot part, For ah ! this tortur'd heart, Bereft of thee has nought to soothe it into rest. Bright Goddess ! o'er my head, And round my slumb'ring bed, Still deign to strew thy rainbow-tinted flowers ; Long light with fairy beams, Long bless with lovely dreams, Thy youthful votary's lone and silent hours ! 16 WRITTEN AFTER RETURNING FROM A PARTY. Now weary nature seeks repose, And slumber sheds his balmy power ; Yet, ere these aching eye-lids close, I'll dedicate one lonely hour To muse on scenes to mem'ry dear, While flows the unavailing tear. An hour ago — the giddy smile Illum'd my cheek — yet this sad heart, A prey to inward woe the while, But ill could act the trifler's part ; Though hid beneath a cheerful air, None saw the workings of despair. — 17 'Tis true seducing pleasure's flush Oft lends my cheek a transient bloom ; 'Tis like the rose's sickly blush, That withering decks some village tomb ; And to the passing eye looks gay — And smiles, while sinking in decay. Shut from the world's inquiring eye, No gay intruder enters here — To ridicule the rising sigh, Or chase with ili-tim'd mirth the tear ; Now happier bosoms sink to sleep Unseen — unheard — I steal to weep. Ah ! soon I feel, 'twill be my lot, ('Tis the best boon I ww can crave, ) To sink unnotic'd — and forgot — Into the calm, and peaceful grave ; O let one friend then spare a tear, To consecrate my early bier. 18 WRITTEN THE GRAVE OF LAURA. The yellow moon-beams coldly shine, Upon yon lone and dreary bed ; No hallow'd tapers deck the shrine, Where silent beauty rests her head. The evening dew-drops gently weep Upon the grave where Laura lies : The redbreasts there sad vigils keep, And Echo answers with her sighs. No friends are seen to mark the spot, Where beauty sleeps in cold decay ; By all the world she is forgot, Forsaken by the grave and gay. 19 Yet Laura once, in pleasure's hour, Was follow'd by th' admiring throng ; All hearts confess'd the fair one's power, All own'd the magic of her song. Her mind was pure as drops of light, That glitter in the sunny ray ; But ah ! she fell from virtue's height, And from her precepts turn'd astray. Deserted by her former friends, Grief nipp'd fair Laura's rising bloom ; The story of her sorrow ends Within yon lone forgotten tomb. Ye fair ones ! view the lonely spot, ( For there no weeping mourners stray ; ) And mark how soon are those forgot, Who have forsaken Virtues way. Go, haste to the deserted tomb, Where the remains of Laura lie ; Yet, tho' she merited her doom, View the cold turf with charity ! c 2 20 TO A FRIEND, WHO ASKED IF THE AUTHOR WROTE FOR FAME, OR AMUSEMENT. 'Tis not the flatt'rer's idle pen, That makes me roam through fiction's bowers ; Nor yet the dull applause of men, For which I cull bright fancy's flowers. Ah ! no ! too early led astray — By hope's seducing, sparkling beam ; I fondly thought the thorny way Of life — would realize my dream ! 'Twas hope — 'twas pleasure lur'd me on — Deceitful guides — they only lead And point to where some phantom shone, Then leave the weary heart to bleed. 21 And are they gone ? — Oh ! yes ! long past The gaudy dream of youth was o'er ; — And they have left me at the last, A shipwreck on a desert shore. Yet, yet, we love to cling to those Who once have grac'd a brighter scene ; And ling'ring memory will repose Upon the joys that once have been ! So, still I love the tuneful art, As in those days when pleasure smil'd ; And yet it lives within my heart, For Poetry is Fancy's child ! As thus I trace the winding maze, Through Fancy's lab'rinth of delight ; Again I live o'er happier days, And think on scenes that once were bright ! Then hail, sweet Poetry ! to thee, Since thou canst soothe one wretch's pain ; E'en Critics must with me agree, Thy notes have not been wak'd in vain ! 22 WRITTEN A THUNDER STORM, AT MIDNIGHT. The thunder rolls — the world is hush'din sleep, Only the heavenly hosts their vigils keep ; Save where the guilty wretch upon his bed Of care and anguish, lays his restless head, And trembling shrinks — lest yonder cloud of gloom Should burst upon his head — and seal his fatal doom ! Hark ! — heard you not that sound sublimely roll, Then die away, along the distant sky ? The noise that rent the air from pole to pole. Now only murmurs like a heavy sigh. 23 Oh ! what a solemn sound — the guilty breast Shrinks back appall'd — where shall it comfort find? The bosom scarce can hold its beating guest, And all is silent horror in the mind. How awful is this scene — the lightning's glare Gives to the sable clouds a deeper gloom ; A moment all is still — the murky air Is like the chaos of the dreary tomb. The flash of heaven is brighter — hark ! that peal Returns with rage as it would wake the dead ; None now can sleep — e'en innocence must feel At such an awful hour, a trembling dread. The wretch who never bent the knee before To Him who stretches his avenging rod ; In silent wonder must his power adore, And in his troubled heart— feels — owns — there is aGodl 24 ON WOMAN. Without Woman our Infancy would be without succour, our Youth without pleasure, and our Age without consolation. In infancy from Woman'a breast, We draw the food by nature giv'n ; She lulls our childish pangs to rest, And cheers us as a beam from Heav'n ! When Woman smiles — she has the pow'r, To heal our griefs, to calm our fears ; Should sickness wound, should fortune low'r, She shares our sorrows, dries our tears ! And she can sooth the cares of age, As rolls Time's furrowing course along ; Can cheer us with the classic page, Or lull us with the magic song. 25 When stretch'd upon the bed of Death, Departing nature struggling lies ; At that dread pause, when the next breath May waft our spirit to the skies.*— When the soul views the narrow verge Close on the confines of the grave ; — And now it longs its flight to urge, Now wishes for an arm to save. — Who cheers that dreary scene of woe ? Who speaks of peace — and joy, and love ? Who wipes the tear-drops as they flow? — 'Tis Woman — sent from Heav'n above ! 'Tis she receives our parting sigh, — 'Tis she who hears our latest breath ; — 'Tis she who seals the closing eye, — And whispers peace and hope in death. And when the mournful scene is past, 'Tis Woman weeps upon our bier ; — Silent — yet long her sorrows last, — Unseen she sheds affection's tear ! 26 On Earth she is the truest friend, That is to man in mercy giv'n ; And when this fleeting life shall end She'll live for purer joys in Heav'n ! Oh ! Woman ! Woman ! thou art made Like Heav'n's own pure and lovely light, A sun to cheer life's desert shade, And gild the gloom of sorrow's night. ■ .-- 27 TO MEMORY. Hence, Memory, hence ! — thy torturing power Can never bring this bosom peace ; Can never cheer one lonely hour, Or bid the throb of sorrow cease ; — Mem'ry ! thy glass presents to me No scenes save those of agony ! For ah ! thou tell'st of woes gone by — Of long lone days of care and sorrow ; And nights — in which this sleepless eye, Ne'er wish'd to view another morrow ; Mem'ry ! thy mirror shews to me No scenes save those of misery ! 28 Thou tell'st me too of Love's deceit, And Friendship's vows, (remember'd never,) Of Hope — that gay ideal cheat, — Who first beguiles — then flies for ever ; Mem'ry, thy mirror shews to me No scenes from care and sorrow free ! No ! Mem'ry, no ! thou can6t not chase The bitter tear-drop from mine eye ; — Or light with joy this pallid face, Or check this bosom's struggling sigh ; Mem'ry, thy mirror shews to me — Sad scenes of endless misery ! 29 TO The world has neither bliss or woe, That nou) can reach my broken heart ; Life can no other charm bestow, Since I have found the thing thou art : — This breast can feel no deeper smart, For thou the final pang hast giv'n ; — One gleam of hope long cheer'd my heart, Now — from my soul 'tis rudely driv'n. The smile that lights my languid brow, Proceeds not from a joyous breast ; My soul is dead to pleasure's glow, I laugh — but do not feel the jest : — ( So flowers, with which cold graves are dress'd, Bloom to the eye, and perfume breathe ; They smile so fair — who ever guess'd The dreary scene they hide beneath ?) 30 TO *Tis past — and I will love no more — Oh ! Woman vain — capricious thing ; The more we flatter and adore — The deeper thou wilt plant thy sting. 'Tis wrong, I own, the sex to blame, All females do not cheat like thee ; — But ah ! they now appear the same — For thou alas ! wert all to me ! — Go — warm thee in another's smile — Deceiver, look not thus so fair ; — Wouldst thou again my heart beguile ?— Go — go— and leave me to— despair. 31 There lurks deceit within that glance To wound my tortur'd heart again ; To lull me into passion's trance — Go, Syren — go — thy smiles are vain. 0~lv~ 32 TO WITH AN AMULET CROSS, SAID TO BE A CHARM AGAINST LOVE. This Cross was form'd with magic power, Love's fiery arrows to repel ; To guard the heart in danger's hour, An Amulet of wondrous spell. To me 'twas giv'n — and now to you The fragrant treasure I resign ; — 'Twill my remembrance keep in view, Which else might be efFac'd by Time. This little token of my love, Is all alas ! I've now to give ; Take it dear girl — and may it prove, The only Cross you ere receive ! 33 THE DREAM. 1812. I dream'd of the days of my youth, And' I thought on those hours with a sigh, I remember'd past pleasures and truth, Though now they're for ever gone by. Fond mem'ry retrac'd every place, Where in youth's fairy hours I had rov'd ; And fancy had pictur'd each face, Which in childhood's gay morn I had lov'd. I heard the warm lips of my sire, Still breathing instruction to me ; And I sat by our own winter fire, And from care and from sorrow was free ! D 34 A mother too smil'd on the scene, Which my picturing fancy had trac'd ; Oh ! nothing was wanting — not e'en The cups which the chimney-piece grac'd. And the kitten that play'd on the hearth, In memory's mirror was bright ; And the dog, who, in moments of mirth, Has shared in my childish delight ! Each object by memory drawn, On my slumbering fancy was press'd ; E'en the daisies which spotted the lawn> And the song which first lull'd me to rest ! Bright fancy then painted the spot, Where I parted from all I held dear ; — Shew'd the look which will ne'er be forgot, And mem'ry has hallow'd the tear ! The image that rush'd o'er my brain, Caus'd the tear-drop of sorrow to flow ; Gay fancy soon ended her reign — And I woke to the world — and to woe ! 35 TO Though fortune ever has been kind, And many a friend bestow'd on me ; Yet never found I, form, or mind, That I could love — as I love thee. Though many a bright and laughing eye, 'T has been my happy lot to view ; — And many a lip of coral dye, And many a cheek of roseate hue ; Yet never, never did I meet A mind so pure, a heart so kind ; A breast so void of all deceit, A soul so warm — yet so refin'd. d 2 36 Oh ! when in distant lands I roam, Through many a clime, o'er many a sea ;- My beating heart will wander home, And rest its sweetest hopes on thee ! April, 1815. 37 LINES. When the heart, that seat of sorrow, Feels itself with care oppress'd ; — What avails a joyous morrow, If to day it cannot rest ? i Heavy seems the sound of pleasure, To a breast that sighs for ease ; Then the softest, sweetest measure, Loses every power to please. Tedious is the round of gladness, To a heart that seeks repose ; Let me fly to scenes of sadness, There I may indulge my woes !- cMLa, , t +yssC Areuji/rr &&& . 38 THE RING'S PETITION. TO The pledge of friendship (not of love) Let me upon thy finger shine, May Hymen's bonds as lasting prove, Yet be the links as light as mine. And when I clasp thy taper finger, (Which gayer rivals oft must share,) One moment let thy mem'ry linger Upon the friend who plac'd me there. April, 1815. 39 FROM THE ITALIAN. Ah ! harmless girl ! — do not believe The tears that from his eyelids flow ; He feigns this sorrow to deceive, And plunge your guileless heart in woe. With scorn the base deceiver view, From these false sorrows turn away ; — His sighs are only to subdue, His tears are shed — but to betray. Hear not his perjur'd vows of love, Oh ! shun the traitor's cruel snare ; — But should his tears your pity move — Think on me, maiden, and beware ! 40 ON SEEING THE MARRIAGE OF A LADY IN THE PAPER. I saw a name class'd in the page With those who go to Hymen's shrine ; And there their plighted vows engage — Oh ! Anna ! — and that name was thine ! Anna ! — where is thy promise now ? Forgot, within another's arms ; — And broken is thy fervent vow — Can I so soon forget thy charms ? Oh ! no ! my heart can ne'er forget — As thine — yet may'st thou happy be ; Now never dream that we have met, Nor waste one useless thought on me ! 41 " May all thy hours in pleasure glide"-. — (This is my constant pray'r to Heav'n :)- And mayst thou never as a bride, Feel such a pang as thou hast giv'n ! 1812. 42 . STANZAS. Yes ! — friendship is an empty sound — A fickle, fond beguiling thing ; — I've tried it oft, but always found, Its sweetest rose conceal'd a sting. And yet I deem'd not Rosa's breast Which seem'd fair virtue's sacred cell ;— Cherish'd pale envy for its guest, Or let deceit within it dwell. Though cold unkindness break the link, Which knit so firmly friendship's chain ; Oh ! let not Rosa ever think My heart can long unloved remain ! Oh ! no, I'll haste to close the band Of friendship's golden chain once more ; If she refuse my offer'd hand — The dream of life will soon be o'er. September, 1815. 44 LINES WRITTEN AT MALVERN WELLS, 1813. Here rosy health erects her favourite seat, And on this lofty mountain loves to stray ; Far from the world she flies to this retreat, Yet here she's follow'd by the grave and gay ! *Tis not in courts the goddess deigns to dwell, In busy crowds she loves not to abide ; — Nor does she seek the hermit's lonely cell, But leaves the haunt where cheerless woes abide. She turns disgusted from a world of care, She shuns the scenes where giddy pleasure reigns ; Flies to the pureness of this mountain air — And loves to wanton o'er these smiling plains. 45 TO A LADY GOING ABROAD. Fate has decreed — and we must part — Then, Lucy, take my last adieu : The warm effusion of a heart That while it beats must sigh for you. Alas ! our youthful joys are o'er, They ne'er can be renew'd again — For Lucy seeks a foreign shore, Far, far, across the troubled main. Yet memory's mirror oft will trace The fairy scenes through which we rov'd ; Will call to mind each look and grace, And every tree and flower we lov'd. 46 Though India wears a softer smile — Boasts gems more bright and flowers more fair, Do not forget old Albion's isle, And all the friends who love you there. Lucy, adieu ! — in fancy's eye, I see the foaming billows swell ; — The bark which bears thee I descry, The anchor's weigh'd — farewell ! farewell ! 1815. 47 FANCY. Gay Fancy, shed thy rainbow light Upon thy youthful votary's head ; And bid the lamp of science bright Around its cheering influence shed. And I will mark the Grecian sage, Will follow through the path he leads ; And often turn th' historic page, And pause on ancient heroes' deeds. Bright Fancy, come — and o'er my soul Thy gentle influence deign to show'r ;- I'll gladly yield to thy controul, Dear goddess of the lonely hour ! — 48 STANZAS. Yes, thou art gone — and here's a space Within this broken— lonely heart; Oh ! not the change of time or place Can blunt the edge of sorrow's dart : Yet I'll not act the mourner's part, " My anguish lies too deep for tears ;" No, it is buried in my heart, 'Tis there its sable throne it rears ! Now thou art gone — oh ! who is left To charm and cheer my lonely hours ? — Of every joy life's path is 'reft, 'Tis strown with thorns instead of flow'rs I cannot roam through pleasure's bow'rs, And sooth my mind with idle toys ; Such scenes would but recall the hours, When thou wert sharer in my joys ! 49 LINES WRITTEN IN DECEMBER. Where has the rose's sweetness fled? Where is the lily's spotless hue ? Ah ! see, gay Summer's rose is dead — And lilies bid the fields adieu. For Winter has began his reign, And chill, and misty is the air, — And though we rove the hill and plain, We find no blooming flow'ret there. Children of Summer — soon they die, And sink into an early tomb ; — As the warm sun-beam quits the sky, They lose their fragrance, and their bloom ! I 50 But turn to gentle Nora's cheeks, Where the rose reigns in gayest pride ; There blooming Nature ever speaks, Which Winter's frown can never hide. — And when stern age's hand severe Shall leave no youthful grace behind ; — The lily still will linger here, And bloom more brightly in her mind. Thus, thus, when Nature seems to sleep, And flowers and lilies fade away ; — I'll in my gentle Nora seek Those beauties which can ne'er decay. 1813. 51 STANZAS TO You say when years have dimm'd your charms, And time has stol'n these smiles away ; — I shall forget the fond alarms, Which I have sworn, I've felt to day. You say when care your brow has shaded, And pleasure's pulse beats high no more ;— When sorrow on that cheek has faded, The rose which bloom'd so sweet before ; — That all my vows of love will fly, Fast as these fleeting charms away ; Like sun-beams on a summer sky, That vanish with declining day ! e 2 52 Behold, my love, this ruby wine "Which sparkling in ray glass appears ;— Its worth may be compar'd to thine, — 'Twill gather brightness by its years. Then rise these little fears above, For thou canst stand the test of time ; Thy -charms first taught my heart to love,- Thy worth will always keep it thine. 1813. b3 TO And do you then say that my bosom is cold, And deem me too slow in accepting your love? Do you think I am cast in insensible mould, Unwilling the sweets of affection to prove? I'll tell thee, my girl — that this heart is as warm As any that's offer'd at friendship's pure shrine ; And till it was chill'd by deception's rude storm, It was always as open, and glowing as thine. It was warm'd like thine own with sincerity's flame, It trusted like thee — but alas! — was betray'd; And of friendship it found it had shar'd but the name, And for love — had mistaken a gay fleeting shade. 54 Where the heart has once trusted — and once been betray'd By deceits of the world, and by falsehoods of men ; — It still is so cautious, 'tis always afraid — And years must elapse ere it trusteth again. Yet forgive me, Eliza — for still I believe, The love you now offer my soul is sincere ; — Then come to this bosom — 'tis folly to grieve, For friendship and love are not worthy a tear » 1812. 55 TO LIFE. Oh ! life, what art thou but a dream, — An empty dream of nothingness? — Thou'rt like the rude and troubled stream, So full of danger, and distress, — That who would ever wish to sleep — To dream of thee — then wake to weep ? Tis true, oh ! life, thou hast some hours — Some short-liv'd gleams of sunny weather, But ah ! those gleams are chas'd by showers, Or as in spring-time, mix'd together : — For when the sun is shining bright, Some envious cloud obscures his light ! 56 To some the sun of life is kind, And pleasure spreads her painted wings ; But soon, alas ! too soon they find The syren has her stings : For pleasure in her smiling train — Conceals, repentance, grief, and pain ! Oh ! death, the weary wretch's friend, In thee we find a sweet relief; — In thee our mortal sorrows end, Thou soothest care and pain and grief: Welcome, oh ! friendly death to me — Dull life, farewell — I now am free ! 1314. 57 LINES. How sweet are the dreams which our childhood bestows, When on hope's fairy pillow we sink to repose; No terrors then rise our soft sleep to destroy, We dream but of bliss, and awake but to joy. For fleet is a glance of the gay youthful mind, When on fancy's bright wings it leaves reason behind ; While the world is yet new, all seems magic around Till we tread on the scorpion, it gives not a wound. How dear is to age the remembrance of youth, When fancy and hope wore the colours of truth ; Ere cold disappointment had shewn his stern dart, And ingratitude's stings had not wounded the heart. 1814. 58 FROM THE ITALIAN, You say I nourish in my breast A slow consuming hopeless flame ; Which robs my beating heart of rest, And preys upon my trembling frame : 'Tis vain to chide — 'tis wrong to blame, The shaft has struck — the pang is past ; I own, alas ! (but not with shame) While life remains, the wound will last ! You say the rose has fled my cheek, — The pulse's throb is almost o'er: — Oh ! would it now had ceas'd to beat, And I could see you frown no more : 59 Sorrow has pierc'd my bosom's core, Yet still I breathe and linger here ; Oh ! when will nature's strife be o'er? When shall I rest upon the bier ? When the cold turf shall o'er me rise, That harden'd breast may heave a sigh ; And sad regret may dim those eyes Which could unpitying see me die : When in the silent grave I lie, Vain, vain, will be that bitter tear ; Yet hear me, nor my suit deny, Restore my hope — and banish fear. One little word, and joy returns, — (Now welcome hope — farewell to pain; — ) My heart with unknown vigour burns — I feel, I yet may smile again : Crush not the hope— nor with disdain Avert those heavenly eyes from me : — Thou wilt not hear — I plead in vain — Thus death at once shall set me free ! 60 VALENTINE TO A YOUNG LADY, IN DEPRESSED SPIRITS. A H ! why upon my Anna's brow Has rosy health forgot to smile ? And where are all those graces now, Which could the gazer's heart beguile ? Why have they fled, and left her mind, A gloomy void — to grief resign'd? Ah ! gentle girl ! 'tis love I fear — Which drives the blushing rose away ; — And places in thine eye the tear, Which down thy cheek delights to stray ; The tear we shed for love is vain — And while it soothes — augments our pain. 61 Then chase the tear-drop from thine eye, Be not o'ercome by pallid sorrow ; — For though dark clouds obscure the sky, The sun may gild the happy morrow ; — Then cherish hope — his beams will shine, And light you to a — Valentine. February Uth, 1813. 62 A CHARACTER. Light was her footstep in the dance, Bright shone her eye as eagle's glance ; Her cheeks, where rose with lily play'd — Contrasted well her eyes' dark shade : She had a free and candid air — Courteous to all her manners were ; Good humour revell'd on her brow — Whilst feeling taught her heart to glow : Virtue on all her actions brightly smil'd, Wisdom beheld with joy, and own'd she was her child. 63 TO JULIA. " In dreary midnight's lonely hour, When wretched lovers only wake: — Ten thousand tears fast falling pour, And bathe my bosom for thy sake. When morning's misty eyes unclose, And give the world another day ; For thee, more sweet than summer's rose, Ten thousand sighs are breath'd away !" When twilight cometh on apace And o'er the world her mantle throws ; I think upon thy heavenly face, And to the moon pour forth my woes ! 64 At shining morn, or gloomy night, Fancy presents thy image near, Thy form is pictur'd to my sight, Thy voice still vibrates in my ear ! In vain to me the morning wakes, And gives the world the cheerful day ; If Julia, who its brightness makes — Forgetful wanders far away ! — My soul will own no other fair — None but thyself can pleasure give ; Oh ! Julia, let me not despair — But smile, and bid thy captive live ! 181-'. 65 WRITTEN IN A COPY OF ANACREON'S ODES. Oh for the Poet's soul of fire ! Oh for the Poet's magic lyre ! Then would I boldly touch the string, And sing as he was wont to sing. But ah those days are past and o'er, Anacreon's spirit is no more : Those festive hours are long since gone, Anacreon's soul for aye is flown : A bard again will never rise To sing the charms of ladies' eyes, As blithe Anacreon us'd to sing, 'Twas then that love was in its spring ; Then crested warriors paus'd to hear, And listening beauty dropp'd a tear ; But now those blissful days are gone, Anacreon's soul from earth has flown. 66 Quench'd is his ardent breast of fire, Cold lies the master of the lyre ; Nerveless those hands which once could fling Such melting numbers from the string— Clos'd is the eye which beam'd so bright, Diffusing all around delight ; Cold is that brow — low in the ground Which once the rose and myrtle crown'd. — Still lies the heart where sense refin'd, With passion's fire so closely twin'd — Pale are the lips whose melting numbers Could chain the soul in spell-bound slumbers. Sunk is the Poet's brilliant soul Which sparkl'd brighter than the bowl. Mute as its master lies his lyre, And silent are its notes of fire. No more the goblet's flowing brim Shall lave its golden sides for him ; No more the rose its leaves shall shed, To form for him the perfum'd bed ; No more the young and blooming vine Shall round his brow its tendrils twine ; No more the zephyr murmuring by Shall sigh responsive to his sigh. 67 The myrtle wreath, alas ! is dead, Which us'd to bloom around his head ; The rose has lost its sweet perfume, Or left it in the Poet's tomb. — No more the gay convivial smile Shall all our festive hours beguile, For he who caus'd that smile to glow, And made a paradise below, Has left us now — in Heav'n to share The paradise that waits him there ; And days and years shall glide away And seasons sink into decay, Ere such a bard again will bloom As he who sleeps beneath the tomb ! 1812. F 2 68 TO A TIME-P1FXE. Gayly ye fly, ye fairy-footed hours, While yet ye last, I'll hold you fast, And strew life's rugged path with flowers ; Rest yet awhile When youth doth smile, And bid life's blissful moments longer last ; Fleet not away, But longer stay, Turn slow till youth's gay happy hours are past. Life's storms as yet to me have been but showers, As light and transient as an April day ; Tho' the rain lasted for a few short hours, The Sun has never yet withdrawn his ray ; 69 I know not what it is to sigh, And count the slow-pac'd hours ; — Too soon to me they seem to fly, And transient is their date as blooming flowers. When care or pain shall hover o'er my bed, And health with all its rosy smiles shall fly ; When troubled dreams distract my aching head, And grief and woe shall close my languid eye ; Turn, glittering toy, Turn, swift until those hours are o'er, Or bring me back the joy I us'd to feel before ! When age itself at last, With slow yet steady pace, With iron hand shall lock me fast, Within his cold embrace — Then let thy fingers fleetly glide, Bid them not then their tedious course delay, Give me not cause their tardy pace to chide, Or with impatience mark their lingering stay ; 70 And when Death's friendly hand Shall loose the earthly band, That holds my spirit in this stormy world ; Fly fast, ye moments fly, — Linger not then Until my spirit with a gentle sigh Quits the abode of men ! 1811. 71 TO Oh ! canst thou make that heart, ( Which all have sought but never won, ) A false deceiving thing of art, Open to all — yet loving none ? And dost thou only wear the smile ( Thy smiles can steal all hearts away ) The heedless gazer to beguile ? The fond admirer to betray ? — And is that seeming guileless breast, Only the tutor'd child of art ; Where true affection does not rest ? Where real feeling bears no part ? •- t /f-tj iuA*. *v~-/> h^LujL **- '<^y A. k//L: 72 And dost thou heave the studied sigh, The melting, easy heart to gain ? And is the tear-drop in thine eye, But shed to give the gazer pain ? No ! — never be the tale believ'd, Thy soul is not the seat of ill ; — Or if indeed I've been deceiv'd, It is so sweet — deceive me still ! 73 WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE. A s when the Sun through clouds of gloom Breaking — dispels the shades of night; So pleasure does my soul illume, Whene'er thou meet'st my raptur'd sight ! The shades of joys that long have slept, In mem'ry's glass, once more I see ; — The tears these eyes so long have wept, Are turn'd to bliss at sight of thee ! June, 1815. 74 TO Oh ! strike the magic harp again, And charm my bosom with thy lay ;— My ear yet drinks the melting strain Which grac'd thy roseate lips to day. Come lull my sorrows to repose, With numbers such as Angels sing ; And teach me to forget my woes, By pouring rapture from the string ! 75 FAIRY REVELS. A FRAGMENT. 1810. Now the Moon is riding high, Titania holds her revelry ; O'ercanopy'd with myrtle bow'rs, Stretch'd upon a couch of flow'rs, In a peaceful shady grove, See the fairy Queen of Love. O'er her head the stars burn bright, And the glow-worm lends its light, Hark the bird of evening sings ! — Now the revelry begins. Pleasure's smiling form is seen On the gay enamell'd green. Ev'ry object seems to say — Tis Titania's holiday ! 76 TO NIGHT. Oh ! night, I love thy hallow'd beams, More than the glaring rays of day ; Thou bring'st me happy blissful dreams, Which morning's reason steals away ! Oh ! night, I see thy ebon veil Steal o'er the world, with raptur'd eyes ; For by thy crescent glimmering pale, My Anna listens to my sighs. Go — go — ye garish beams of day, No pleasure in your smiles I prove ; Give me the peaceful evening ray, Sacred to Silence, and to Love ! 77 TO WEEPING. What sorrow dims that sparkling eye ? Say is it love, say is it woe, That claims the tribute of a sigh, And bids those pearly drops to flow ? Tell me — has some cold hearted youth Repaid thy love with cold disdain ? Or has he broken vows of truth, And left thy heart the seat of pain ? If so— he ill deserves a tear — Or one soft sigh from that pure breast ; Forget that he has e'er been dear — And let thy heart once more be blest ! 78 Oh ! if we grieve for every woe We meet in Life's uncertain round ; When will the tear-drop cease to flow ? Where will the smile of joy be found ? Then cease to weep — or let the tear Which wets this cheek for trivial woes ; Forget the cause that brought it here ; And change to rapture as it flows! 79 IMPROMPTU, ON RECEIVING A tOCK OF HAIR. [ own I ill deserve a treasure, Which once I slighted with disdain ; — ' Twas in the thoughtless hour of pleasure, When my gay heart beat light and vain ;- When mirth and gladness rul'd the day — I cast the offer'd gift away. — Ah ! n&w believe ray folly ended — And that I hold the gift most dear ; — Forget — that I have once offended — And know my love is most sincere ; Not e'en the arm of Death can sever The chain which binds me — thine for ever ! August, 1815. 60 MUSIC. IMITATION OF MOORE. Wreathe thy harp with wildest flowers, Let it breathe its softest strain — Call to mind the joyous hours, Which we ne'er can see again. When I hear that well known sound, 'Tis as though the dead arose ; 'Tis as if her spirit round Hover' d — list'ning to our woes ! Oh ! that well remember'd strain Wakens joys — now sunk in death; Scenes of bliss — and hours of pain All revive in music's breath ;— St Memory would too often sleep—' Were it not for Music's strain ; Sorrow would too often weep — If Music did not lull its pain ! Mem'ry sometimes must repose, Sorrow should not always last ; Then how soothing after woes — "Tis to dream of pleasures past ! Music's sound recalls the hours, Almost faded from the mind ; — Culls of life the sweetest flowers — And cheers what yet is left behind. AN ACROSTIC. L ight as the lily in her native vale, A nd gentle as the calmly breathing gale ; U nskill'd in all the arts of courtly pride, R eason her rule,— and innocence her guide ; A bove the baser passions that oft move M ankind ; she is an object of their love. O pen and candid is her peaceful breast, R emorse, and anguish there can never rest, £ ach charm is hers, that e'er a mortal bless'd ! Malvern Wells, 1813. 83 LINES. Fare thee well — time sweeps along — Yet thy image still shall dwell In the bowl, and in the song — In memory's lone and sacred cell. Fare thee well — the hours fly fast, Soon, too soon, my love, we sever ;— Long as life and hope shall last I will bless thy name — for ever ! Yet dear maid, some happier youth Will repay thy love more kindly ; Tho' possess'd of heavenly truth, To this shore thou canst not bind me. g 2 I must prove a wand'ring lover, I must cross the foaming sea ; — Yet, ah ! yet, thy hapless rover — Ne'er can cease to think on thee ! Tears and sighs are unavailing — From thy arms I must depart ; See ! the signal's giv'n for sailing, Break, oh ! break not yet, my heart ! I could linger here for ever — Proving to my vows most true ; Fate denies it — we must sever — Take my long and last adieu I 85 WRITTEN OK THE SEA SHORE. (moonlight.) How sweet this scene unto a mind at ease, How soothing soft the Ocean seems to glide, Hush'd is each murmur, e'en the gentle breeze Forbears to agitate the slumb 'ring tide ! Oh ! tis a scene that speaks of heav'n above, And lulls the heart of sorrow to repose ; Tunes the sad soul to rapture and to love, And leads the mourner to forget his woes ! How sweet to him who on the foaming deep, Long days and nights has toss'd in restless pain; How sweet to him, to see the billows sleep, And view calm peace assert her silent reign ! V 86 But ah ! to me, the scene has lost its charms, Distant so far from all the friends I love ; Still am I doom'd to meet with fresh alarms, And through the world a weary wand'rer rove? The Syren Joy has never blest my bow'r — From me she flies — with more than wing'd feet ; And I must pass full many a dreary hour, Ere I her blessings, and her smiles can meet ! 1814. WRITTEN ON THE SEA SHORE, AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT. Sweet are these fairy shores to other eyes, Gay laughs the morn to every heart but mine: The frolic wind to me sounds heavy sighs, And the bright sun-beam paly seems to shine. Wand'ring in vain — from place to place I rove, Finding no friend to comfort and to cheer ; No heart to soothe my sorrows, and to love, No kindred eye to shed affection's tear ! A sad spectator midst life's crowded scene, Grief at my heart, and sorrow in mine eyes ; Despair and anguish in my look and mien, As I approach, the phantom Pleasure flies ! 88 Be calm, my heart — nor yield to dark despair, Stern fate to thee at last will pity shew, Peath soon will end thy sorrows and thy care, And with a welcome hand relieve thy woe 1 1814. 89 DESCRIPTION OF Of gay enchanting form and face • possess'd each female grace \ Well skill'd the heedless to beguile, For magic dwelt beneath her smile. She knew each witching art to gain — - And keep the captive in her chain. — Her graceful dress in part reveal'd Her bosom's whiteness — part conceal'd— The lily made that breast its own Without; — within, 't had never blown! She could command the ready sigh — The down-cast look — the timid tear ; — Which makes the heart of hope beat high, And yet awakes the pulse of fear — 90 Yes ! she could flatter and caress, — Could feign to love, — and seem to bless ; Until with cautious, cruel art — She wound her net around the heart ; Deep skill'd was she in ev'ry way — To sooth, to flatter, and betray ! 1810. 91 STANZAS TO Adieu, a long, a last adieu, — We part — oh ! ne'er to meet again ; — Oft waking shall I think on you, With much of joy, but more of pain ! And in my dreams thou wilt appear, In airy vision to my sight ; And many a sigh, and bitter tear, Shall greet thine image through the night ! % I shall remember, how I lov'd — I shall remember how you sigh'd : — The moment you my love approv'd Would Heav'n ! — I had that moment died. 92 I had been blest — and never known How faithless is a female heart — Dying — had thought thee all my own, And had been spar'd this cruel smart ! Yes ! steel may break, and rocks may rend, Mountains may from their base be torn ; — But Woman's soul will never bend, Her heart is fill'd with pride and scorn ! 1812. <% aj£ fit*/- /i^ J ^C **> /Ur>y +pc 93 IMITATION OP LORD BYRON. I mark'd him — he'd his mother's eye- His mother's pouting lip — the same- He sigh'd — it was his mother's sigh, But ah ! he bore his father s name I Oh ! Heav'n — I could for ever gaze Upon that boy's angelic face ; — Again could dream of happier days, As in her child — her form I trace ! I love that boy — in fancy's dream— His mother's ev'ry grace I see ;— - And view her eye so brightly beam — ■ Alas ! it beams not now for me I 1813. »7T FAREWELL TO HOPE. Hence — faithless Hope, thy magic numbers Ne'er shall cheat my fancy more ; — Broken are my charmed slumbers, And thy fairy reign is o'er. — Love and Hope ! again I never To my heart such guests will bring ; — Awhile ye sooth'd — then fled for ever — Took your sweets — but left your sting ! 95 A THOUGHT IN A BALL ROOM. Ah ! would one eye here beam less bright If mine were sunk— and clos'd in, death ? Would one heart glow with less delight If I resign'd for aye this breath ? Ah ! would the cheek of beauty burn With paler flush— or fainter fire ; If unto dust I now return — And weary of the world expire? Will these gay bosom* heave a sigh ? Will these bright eyes with tears o'erflow ? When worn by sorrow I shall die ?— My conscious bosom answers— wo /— 96 STANZAS. WrtAT is friendship ? what is love ? This a shadow — that a name ; — Lights that only shine above, " Shades, that follow wealth and fame f ' £rize not love's uncertain joys — Heed not friendship's bland deceit ; — • Both are trifling idle toys, — Both will flatter — both will cheat ! Love is like the adder's sting — Deeply rankling in the heart :-** Friendship will no solace bring It will wound and then depart ! 97 Both,— too like the fickle world, Worship when the Sun is bright ; But by fortune's tempest hurl'd, Leave us to affliction's night ! 1810. 98 FRAGMENT. The fairy hours of life are o'er, And sorrow pale has shewn her form ; I feel not as I did before I sunk in disappointment's storm. Alas ! I little dream'd, that e'er Youth's sun had gain'd meridian height ; It should be clouded by despair — And set in sorrow's starless night 1 99 LOVE, The heart that never Tov'd — Can never know, — And by experience hath not prov'd,- All the extremes, And empty dreams, Of bliss and woe ! The heart, that oft hath lov'd Has felt the smart ;— And by experience sad has prov'd — The hopes and fears, — The sighs and tears That freeze the heart ! — h 2 100 The heart that truly loves — Alone can tell — And dear experience only proves- The sweet delight, That must requite Those who love "well! 1812. y&»v C**^ t/^ce/£a^ A^ dt**;; **^C «~u/. *&*£, 101 IMITATION ANACREON. Fill the bowl and let us drink, Fill the bowl, nor pause to think ; Let us drink the night away — We can think when it is day. Fill the bowl with Bacchus' treasure, Fill it up with rosy pleasure ; — Fill again — yet more and more, Till its laughing sides run o'er ! 1810. 102 WRITTEN IN LORD BYRON'S POEMS, PRESENTED TO A FRIEND. Has griefs rude hand thy bosom torn — And dost thou weep some fatal truth? Art thou untimely left to mourn The blighted visions of thy youth ? The tear that trembles in thine eye, — Flows it for friendship ill repaid ? Does thy young heart in secret sigh, O'er hope deceiv'd — or love betray'd ? Or hast thou woke from joy's bright dream, Or pleasure's oft times fatal sleep ? Dost thou regret her short-liv'd beam ? And seek o'er fadeU bliss to weep ? 103 Then turn thee to this soothing page, Here find a solace for thy care ; Whose sweetness will thy griefs assuage, And calm the tortures of despair ! And oh ! thus early learn to know — These dreams of bliss were only giv'n To light thee through a world of woe, They must be realisd in heav'n 1 July, 1815. 104 LINES. I was of ev'ry joy bereft — No home, no friends, no comfort near ; No soothing drop for me was left, No eye to shed affection's tear. — Till Rosa came to yield relief — To chase the tear-drop from mine eye ; — She eas'd my woe-worn heart of grief — And lull'd with smiles, the rising sigh ! I lov'd her not because her eye Beam'd as the dew of heav'n so mild ; — No ! — 'twas because a gentle sigh Stole from her breast for sorrow's child. 105 I lov'd her not because her cheek RivalTd the blush of dawning day ; — But 'twas because she oft would seek — To chase my fears and doubts away ! I lov'd her — not because her breast Was fairer than the mountain snow ; — But 'twas because it held a guest, Who sooth'd and shar'd another's woe ! 1810. 106 LINES YOUTH WHO DIED OF A CONSUMPTION. C — m, thy gentle soul, life's trials past, Its struggles o'er — its errors all forgiv'n ; — Has wing'd its flight to realms of bliss at last, And flown to join — with perfect souls in heav'n! Just as thy early virtues had been shown — Ere ripen'd manhood on thy cheek did bloom ; — Stern death — (who long had mark'd thee for his own,) Rush'd forth — and dragg'd thee with him to the tomb. 107 We mourn not, youth, that thou art with the blest, Tis not for thee sad vigils here we keep ; Tis not because thou'rt flown to realms of rest- That thus we heave the sigh, that thus we weep. 'Tis for a tender father's speechless woe, 'Tis for a doting mother's silent tear ; — That down our cheeks these drops are seen to flow, That thus we sorrow mournful o'er thy bier. Weep not, ye mourners — let not from your eyes These trickling tears, so sad, so frequent start ; — Calm, calm, these sorrows, hush these heavy sighs, And act as best becomes the Christian's part ! Seek resignation — in Religion find " That peace the idle world can ne'er bestow ;" — She the composer of the troubled mind Will heal your griefs, and calm this flood of woe. 108 If at your wish your son again might live — Again might struggle on this world of care ; — Say would you wish it? — no ! — the thought for- give, Then why indulge your griefs, and your des- pair? His happy soul (the pangs of death soon o'er,) Shook off its cumb'ring dust — and being free, Wafted by faith's soft gales began to soar — And sprung on wings of hope, to liberty ! 1812. 109 ROMANCE. Woe to the youth who wanders far — Midst fancy's wild illusive maze ; — Who ne'er can find a guiding star, — But follows each destructive blaze. Woe to the maid who wanders deep Midst wild romance's magic bowers ; Descends each dell — climbs ev'ry steep In search of fictions fairy flowers ! Woe to the youth whose ardent mind Sees only scenes of future bliss ; — Too soon the hapless youth will find Those scenes are not more blest than this ! 110 Woe to the maid who never dreams Of any hours, save those of joy ; Of gay idea fairy scenes — And days of bliss without alloy. Woe to the maid, who, when she wakes, Finds all her fairy visions o'er ; Ah ! hapless girl, she only makes Herself more wretched than before ! Woe to the youth whose sanguine eye, Follows gay Hope's seducing form ; She only leads him on to die Midst disappointment's fatal storm ! Woe to the maid, by error led, Who sports in fancy's painted beam ; Too soon she'll find that fancy fled — All that she saw, was but a dream ! 1810. Ill TWO VIEWS OF LOVE. YOUTH WHO ASKED WHAT LOVE WAS. Say what is Love ? a treach'rous gue6t — Who only flatters to betray ; — And dwells within the sanguine breast, To steal it from itself away. Say what is Love ? 'tis folly — madness — It turns the smile of joy to sadness ; It steals the rosy cheek away — ■ And makes the youthful form decay ; — And in the breast, where once it enters, Ev'ry care and sorrow centers ! 112 Oh ! fly this base, this flatt'ring guest, He only lures thee to destroy ; — He'll rob thy guileless heart of rest, Then leave thee to despair, dear boy ! 113 TO A YOUNG GIRL WHO ASKED THE SAME QUESTION. Say what is love ? it is a charm That dwells within the youthful breast ; It guards the bosom from all harm, And makes it very, very blest ! Yes ! Love produces joy and gladness, And cheats the mournful heart of sadness, It dyes the youthful cheek with roses, Where no care lurks — no thorn reposes ; And in the breast where true love enters, Ev *ry joy and pleasure centers ! i 114 Encourage then this gentle guest — He only comes to cheer thy heart ; Within thy bosom let him rest — Sooth him — and bid him ne'er depart ! 1810. 115 A VALENTINE. Every thing conspires to day, Haste, my Anna, come away ; Fly with me to yonder grove, Sacred to the queen of love. Thither haste, ye nymphs, and bring Ev'ry balmy breath of spring ; Strew a couch of blooming roses, ( Such as where young Love reposes, ) Spread around us fragrant flow'rs, Cull'd from Flora's favourite bow'rs ; Haste be quick, your bands advance, Come and join the mazy dance ; i 2 116 Let not age or care appear, None but youth and joy are here. — Wake the young-ey'd god of pleasure, With a soft yet sprightly measure ; Fly, and on the rosy gale Let the sounds of mirth prevail ; Haste, and let the ev'ning star Proclaim our revelry afar. Strike the harp, and sweep its strings, New pleasures ev'ry moment brings ; Seize old Time, nor let him move, Sacred is this hour to love. — See the jolly god of dance Hither with his elves advance, While the soft Idalian boy Waves his wings and smiles for joy. Cupid here holds sov'reign sway, And Hymen lights us on our way.— On the steps of the fair boy Wait young Health and rosy Joy ; See for him a wreath they twine, Braiding laurel with the vine ; Jes'mine white and blushing roses, (Tints that Anna's cheek discloses,) 117 With the snow-drop we may see, Blest emblem of his purity ; And the myrtle ever-green, Twining 'midst his locks is seen ; Add to this the violet blue, To shew us by its modest hue, That love is free from haughty pride, And never takes ambition's side. — Bring ev'ry flow'r that yields perfume Which on Love's brows shall ever bloom ; But oh, amid a wreath so fair The cypress ne'er should have a share, When, breath'd upon by Love's warm sigh, The cypress and the willow die. Oh ! haste, fair Anna, let us prove The soft delights of mutual love; And join with mine thy lovely hand In gentle Hymen's silken band. Thou never shalt repent the day On which thou gav'st that hand away. — Say ere the term of Love expires, Ere he from the world retires, Ere the hours of spring are fled, Ere the roses droop their head ; Ere young Cupid's sportive band Quit for aye this happy land, While he here holds sov'reign sway (As he does upon this day) Say, ere these hours of love are flown, That thou wilt bless A n. 1810. 119 ON ROSA KILLING A BEE WHICH HAD SETTLED ON HER LIP. Oh ! happy insect — die in bliss — Since Fate has will'd, it must be so ; Thy life is forfeit for the kiss — And Rosa's hand has giv'n the blow ! Drawn by the fragrance of her breath, Straight to her coral lips he flew ; Ah ! who would ever think on death When so much beauty is in view ? But if his rivals (men) must share His fate for such a crime as this ; Sweet Rosa ! who would ever dare To taste the rapture of thy kiss ? 120 If on thy lip he left his dart, 'Twas but in mercy to mankind ; To warn them from that hallow'd part, Lest they a fate as cruel find ! 1810. 121 TO WHO DISLIKED POETRY. No ! I can ne'er resign the art, Which Nature has so deep impress'd, On ev'ry movement of my heart, And twin'd so closely round my breast ! Though you may call my tuneful theme, " The phantoms of unreal joys," I would not wake from such a dream, To share with crowds their pomp and noise. For I can sooth my lonely hours By roaming fiction's fairy clime ; Can cull bright fancy's fadeless flow'rs, To deck the weary wing of Time. 122 Should Health forget her wonted smile, (Some hours of sickness all must share ;) My lyre can well those hours beguile, And blunt the barbed sting of care. Should Pleasure's gay illusion cease, (And clouds will oft obscure her ray ;) The lyre can lull my soul to peace, And while the ling'ring time away. Then cease to chide fair Fancy's power, Who o'er my soul has shed her light ; She'll prove a friend in sorrow's hour, And cheer me in affliction's night ! 1813. 123 LINES WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF, AT THE END OF THE NOVEL OF WAVERLY. Clos'd is the book — the tale is o'er — Its scenes from Fancy's eyes are faded ; The gallant chieftain is no more, The mists of death his brows have shaded. Too soon, brave chief, thy course was run, Too soon thy bright career was clouded ; Thy glory's hardly ris'n sun, Untimely sunk — in darkness shrouded. — Ah ! where are now the matchless pair, Who through old Scotland's valley rov'd ? Where rests the high-born, noble fair, Who Wogan's memory so much lov'd? 124 The lily, and the mountain oak, United, brav'd the warring wind ; The tree has felt the spoiler's stroke, The blighted flow'r is left behind. * And cold are now those Highland breasts, Which beat with valour's fervid glow ; Low in the tomb each warrior rests, Unconscious of his chieftain's woe. Deserted is that ancient hall, Where once the bard's sweet numbers rose. Where grace and beauty led the ball, The spider's filmy brood repose. The owl usurps Mac-Ivor's chair, The bat there spreads his ebon wings ; And screaming to the dusky air, Hoarsely the sable raven sings. The magic harp is silent laid, Which once could charm the list'ning throng ; No more the echoing hill and glade Repeat the notes of Flora's song. — 125 All, all are faded from the mind, Like lightning in a summer sky ; And few the traces left behind, Past days of greatness to descry. Then, oh ! how soothing here to trace (Though faintly) that unclouded day ; To search the annals of a race Oblivion's stream hath swept away. And thou, whose pages have essay'd To save what yet is spar'd by time ; — Receive the thanks of many a maid, And many a youth of Scotia's clime. The young with rapture long shall read Of warlike times — too great to last ; The old, (while yet their bosoms bleed,) May almost dream they are not past. 1815. 126 THE DEATH OF ENSIGN T# # • WHO FELL IN BATTLE, Feb. 24th, 1814. They tell us that we should not weep, For those who die on glory's bed ; They tell us it is wrong to keep Sad vigils for the heroic dead. — Vain thought ! can grief forget to sigh ? Can fond affection check the tear, And calmly gaze with unmov'd eye On rising valour's timeless bier ? — 127 The stoics preach " 'tis wrong to mourn O'er the high relics of the brave ; O'er friends from life thus early torn, Because they rest in honour's grave /" — Alas ! can love so calmly part With all the hopes it held so dear ? — And is the mourner's breaking heart Denied the comfort of a tear? — No! — when some envied son of fame In fields of glory finds a tomb, Th' admiring world his deeds proclaim, And thronging crowds lament his doom. But public woe can never last ; A nation's grief is quickly o'er ; The first keen pang of sorrow past, They feel the Hero's loss no more. But 'tis not thus withjriends who cherish'd High hopes — (alas! how early crost;) Who see their proudest prospects perish'd, And all their fairy visions lost. 128 Ah, no ! through many lingering years, Their careworn hearts must mourn his doom; Weep ! mourners, weep ! — affection's tears Can ne'er disgrace a soldier's tomb ! 129 TO A FADED ROSE. Poor emblem of departed pleasure, I view thee with a mournful eye ; — Thy faded form I still will treasure, It tells of bliss — long since gone by ! Thou bring'st to mind bright visions cherish'd, When youth and fancy were mine own ; Thou tell'st of joys, too early perish'd, — Of pleasures faded — hopes o'erthrown ! — Poor hapless flow'r ! I still will wear thee ; While life remains, we ne'er must part ; — And death's rude hand alone shall tear thee, From this sad — lonely — broken heart ! K ISO Thy hour of pride was quickly shaded, — Thy balmy sweetness soon was o'er ; — In one short night thy beauties faded, And now, thou charm'st the eye no more ! The guardian thorns which close caress thee, Wound not this tortur'd breast of mine ; Ah ! no ! the heart to which I press thee, Has felt a deeper sting than thine ! 1816. 131 STANZAS. i. How chang'd to me this glitt'ring scene, Since last I trod its winding maze ; — NOh ! why should sorrow intervene, To blight the hopes of youthful days ? — Amid this busy crowd I view — No form — no face — I wish to see ; There's not in all this mirthful crew, One eye — whose smile gives joy to me ! — II. Those who have felt the icy chill That steals thro' all the trembling frame ; — The throbbing pulse,- the sick'ning thrill, — The bursting heart, the burning brain :- k 2 132 The listless apathy of mind — The fever of the aching breast ; — The cold-fix'd brow, that looks resign'd, Yet inly pines — and does not rest ; III. The weary limbs that taste not sleep, — But vainly turn, and court repose ; — The leaden eye — that cannot weep, — Whose sorrow freezes as it flows ; — The total hopelessness of heart, That fondly cherishes its grief; — And will not with its anguish part, That seeks not ivishes not relief; — IV. Oh ! such alone can tell the pain The bosom feels, and ceases never, When fate unlinks the golden chain, Which Love had forg'd to last for ever ; No other tie the soul can bind, The world becomes a dreary void ; No future bliss can sooth the mind That mourns o'er early hopes destroy 'd ! 133 STANZAS TO I. Oh ! — do not think, because awhile I revel with the careless crowd, — That pleasure's pow'r can e'er beguile The grief of which my soul is proud ; And deem not — when, midst courtly joys, I mingle with the light and vain, I find in riot's madd'ning noise, A solace for my bosom's pain ! — II. Yet those who seek mirth's varied round, Fools — who in folly's creed agree, — May deem my soul in joy has found, The bliss it lost, in losing thee ; — 134 But when gay pleasure's votaries rest, And midnight wraps the world in shade ; The sigh that rends this tortur'd breast, Tells me, thine image cannot fade ! III. Thy mute resemblance oft I trace, Lest dull-ey'd sorrow should forget To mark some charm — some nameless grace Which mem'ry has not treasur'd yet ; . Unmov'd now meets my ardent gaze That eye— whose glance has rapture giv'n ; We met not thus in youthful days, We meet no more, unless irt Heav'n !— IV. Then oh f — forgive me when I wear The mask of mirth— or pleasure's tone ;- I would not have the vulgar share The woe which should be mine alone ;— 135 Think not I do thy mem'ry wrong That thus I seem from sorrow free, — Th' unmeaning smile I give the throng, — The silent tear — is kept for thee ! — •/Ho*, soon hdl'd to VMt; A meteor light that shoots along the sky, A spark of heav'rily flame,— just lit to shine and die. 147 Yet Love ! — within this wilderness of eare, Where beats the heart, that hath not felt thy sting ? 105 Of all the fleeting joys that mortals share, Thou art the fir st, the best worth treasuring ! What marvel, then, fair Zelia felt that pow'r Which all must feel in some revolving hour ? She who all threats disdain'd, all fears defied, [110 By gentle usage lov'd, and was a Pirate's bride ! VIII. Oh ! who hath felt of life the weariness Which rises in the heart that's left alone ? Oh ! who hath felt the soul's sad dreariness, When round we look but cannot find a home ? [115 No heart that beats responsive to our own ; No breast to sooth our griefs with pious care, And all our hours of joy and bliss to share ; No one to light the ev'ning of our day, To cheer life's wasting lamp, and view its part- ing ray? 120 l 2 148 'Twas thus the Pirate us'd to think, and sigh, And dash with hasty hand the dew away, Which, like a trembling drop of ocean's spray, Would sometimes steal unbidden to his eye. But if a comrade chanc'd to linger nigh, 125 His arched brows unbended to a smile, And soon he would that softer mood beguile ; For Bertram could not bear the thought, I ween, That in his haughty eye, a te'ar-drop should be seen. IX. The weariness of Hfe is past and o'er, 130 Since the young captive to his cavern came ; Loud 6houts of mirth resound along the shore, The desert isle no longer is the same ; Joy waves his purple wings in ev'ry grove, And where the robber frown'd, now smiles the God of Love. 135 149 X. Proudly the vessel rides the ocean, And she will sail at ev'ning's tide ; The Pirate band are all in motion, Their arms and carbines to provide. The gun has fir'd. " Can he forget 14*0 Th' appointed sign ? he comes not yet !" " He was not wont to be the last, " 'Tis the fair captive holds him fast." " Oh she" — " Be silent, he appears, " He stay'd to dry the lady's tears." . 145 His comrades spoke in scorn, but he Or saw it not, or would not see. But why does Bertram muse, and why Lurks care within his piercing eye ? Where are his thoughts ? — amidst his crew ? — [150 No ; — all his soul to Zelia flew ; He deem'd she hasten'd him away, Nay, seem'd uneasy at his stay, 150 And long before the signal fir'd, Had from his fond embrace retir'd ! 155 " So soon is Zelia's love grown cold ? — M But woman's heart, how strange the mould !" XI. Fire flash'd in Bertram's moody eye, Like lightning through the midnight sky ; That eye, Which late so dull had seem'd 160 Now like a rising morning beam'd. A Turkish galley drawing near, For instant fight the foe prepared; There was no heart which beat with fear, Fbr all their leader's spirit shar'd ! — 165 Save one, perchance. — XII. Weary and spent, and faint and dying, Upon the deck the Turks are lying ; Yet blood from Bertrams side is 6tr«aming, Tho' ardour in his eye is beaming. 170 151 What unknown hand hath turn'd the blow, With quickness on the crafty foe ? What graceful form, amidst the strife, Has rescu'd Bertram's ebbing life ? XIII. Of stature tall, and gentle mien, 175 In splendid garb a youth was seen. The fire of hope shone in his eye, Care had not taught his breast to sigh ; And disappointment had not chill'd The warmth with which that breast was fill'd. 180 His voice in gentle accents broke, With female softness as he spoke ; His forehead high, his eyebrows fair, And closely curl'd his golden hair : " Thanks, gallant youth ! sure I should know 185 That graceful form, that marble brow ; It rushes on my wilder'd mind, — Like form of one we left behind 153 In yon lone isle — I do but rave — Whoe'er thou art, thy soul is brave, J 90 And well thy courage I'll repay On some more calm and peaceful day !" XIV. Within his faithful arms reclining, Fall'n Bertram wildly gaz'd around ; On the youth's cheek a tear was shining, J 95 It fell upon his burning wound. That drop was pure as Heav'n's own dew ; 'Twas such as Bertram seldom knew. " Oh ! gentle youth, if to yon isle, Fate should permit thy safe returning, 200 Tell Zelia not to mar the smile Upon her cheek, by vainly mourning ; Tell her I died by fate's decree, And bid thy comrades set her free !" 1,53 He heard the shout of victory, 205 And rais'd his feeble head ; He tried to join the well-known cry, He tried to wave his arm on high, But, ah ! his spirit fled ! Oh ! had he fought in Freedom's cause, 210 Defending liberties and laws ; Oh ! had he died his Country's friend, How glorious had been Bertram's end ! XV. The youth stood gazing in despair, Pale and dejected was his air. 215 He turn'd, but, ah ! his trembling feet Can scarce his fainting form sustain, And reason now hath left her seat, Senseless he falls into the main, And sinks beneath the whelming flood, 220 Yet tinted with his comrades' blood. A daring Pirate instant sprung Amid the waves, — tho' round him sung 154 The hostile weapons in the air ; — For much that Algerine could dare ; 225 Now, now he's lost beneath the surge, He rises now, — again to urge Amid the wat'ry strife his way- Furious he dashes through the spray, And gains the bark ; his right hand bears 230 The senseless object of his cares, But all too late ; with grief tlxey raise The senseless form, and mutely gaze : — That youthful form, which sunk beneath the tide; They see — they know— -'tis Zelia, Bertram's bride. 235 XVI. In the rocky isle, Rais'd by rude hands, a monument is seen ; When spring doth smile, Soft virgins deck the stone with freshest green : And oft at eve the Pirate band repair 240 To view the tomb, and chaunt a requiem there. 155 Wf^t MtQt. XVII. " O'er thy pillow night winds blowing, With the billow still shall sigh ; Hoarse the swell of ocean flowing, Wakes stern Echo murm'ring nigh. 245 When we drain the festive bowl, Or divide the well-earn'd prize, Ev'ry grateful comrade's soul Still shall think where Bertram lies. When they view thy rugged grave, 250 Tears from softer eyes may start, But the sorrows of the brave Only flow within the heart. There, in strong remembrance set, Gallant Chief, thou long shalt dwell ! 255 Ne'er shall Pirate bands forget How their valiant leader fell ! 156 Clos'd are Zelia's beaming eyes, Virgins drop the tender tear ; Low the bride of Bertram lies, 260 Strew with flow'rs her early bier. Long shall Pirate records tell, How Zelia lov'd — how Bertram fell !" Rest, faithful pair ! around your tombs The cypress waves, the myrtle blooms. soNqs, 159 ZELIE, A BALLAD. I. Sweet May was return'd, and the blossoms were springing, And the gay flowrets round fhTd the air with perfume ; From bush and from brake the soft warblers were singing, To welcome the season which bick nature bloom ! II. The light-hearted Shepherds gay garlands were wreathing, To deck the fair maids when they danc'd oh the green ; 160 Or down in the valley love ditties were breathing, For love and soft harmony smil'd on the scene. III. Ev'ry bosom beat high — all with pleasure were glowing, Each face wore a smile, and they dream'd not of pain ; Save from Zelie's bright eyes, where the tear- drops were flowing, And she fled from the sports on the green- mantled plain. IV. The youth whom her heart priz'd so fondly, so dearly, Had quitted the village and flown from her arms; Ah ! why did she love one so true and sincerely Who was false to his vows, and neglected her charms ? 161 v. Gay summer is past, and the autumn is closing, Cold winter will wrap Nature's beauties in shade ; But colder the tomb where fair Zelie's reposing, And more callous his bosom who slighted the maid! VI. As the pale lily bends when the tempest is falling, And droops its meek head, overcome by the blast; So Zelie expir'd, on her false lover calling, For his was the name her cold lips murmur'd last. VII. Once more will return the soft season of glad- ness, The youths and the maidens will meet on the plain ; But the light note of joy will be chang'd into sadness, For the pride of the hamlet will bloom not again ! M 162 VIII. Yet oft round her tomb shall soft music be steal- ing When the shepherds at ev'ning repair to the grove, While the maids of the village, her story reveal- ing. Strew flowers on the grave of the victim of Love! 163 SONG, WRITTEN FOR A FRIEND. Send round the wine, and let's be gay, This night we give to pleasure's reign Far hence we banish care's rude sway, These joys may ne'er be our's again ; Spirit of song ! Anacreon ! rise, Diffuse thy influence o'er the bowl ; Bid pleasure beam in sorrow's eyes, And mirth burn bright in ev'ry soul. And give to me, oh ! bard divine, One laurel for thy temples wreath'd ; Oh ! let me catch that playful rhyme, Which thy immortal spirit breath'd ! m 2 164 For wealth and pow'r I do not ask, No ! I despise such earthly things ; But grant to me the daring task, To touch thy lyre's harmonious strings ! Yet I'll not tune for B thy lyre, A Poet's praise he would disdain : — But Woman shall the verse inspire, She was thine own thy favor'd strain ! Sweeter I trust the charms to sing, Of her who to his soul is dear ; Than all the praise the Muse could bring, To pour into a manly ear. Sweet Fanny ! though unknown to thee The bard who thus his homage pays, His soul's as glowing and as free, As his who celebrates thy praise ; And oh ! believe his fair one's charms As brightly to his fancy shine, Her eyes create as soft alarms, As those which B has felt from thine. 165 But ah ! like him, he is not blest, For Rosa hears with cold disdain The tender pleadings of his breast, And lets her captive sigh in vain. Oh ! envied B still constant prove, For thou indeed art truly blest ; — There is no joy — like Woman's love, No earthly throne, like Woman's breast ! 166 SONG. IMITATION OF MOORE. I. Strike the harp — and sing the praise, Of the maid, who's gone for ever ; Tell of brighter, happier days, — Will they return ? ah! never, never !- II. Mournful now that strain resounds, Thro' the bower her fair hands planted ;- Hush'd are now those silv'ry sounds Which ev'ry feeling heart enchanted ! 167 III. Roses round this bow'r once grew — Now alas ! they all have faded ; — They have lost their blooming hue, Like the lovely form they shaded ! IV. Tho' the balmy breath of spring Will return with wonted fleetness ; Yet alas ! it ne'er can bring To that rose its former sweetness ! V. Few the years on earth she stay'd, Short the glimpse which we were giv'n ; She just appear'd to bless this shade, Then vanish'd to her native heav'n ! 168 SERENADE. The moon shines bright on yonder tower, Oh ! lady, wake, and fly with me ; — Now all are lock'd in sleep's soft pow'r, Oh ! haste my happy bride to be ! No sound disturbs night's gentle reign — No murmur breaks upon the ear ; — All, all is still on yonder plain — And none but love and Henry's near ! Thy father's eyes are sunk to rest — So are his churlish vassals all ; — And wrapt in sleep lies ev'ry guest, Then listen to thy Lover's call ! J 69 My steeds are waiting in the brake, Then haste, my fair one, come away ; — Quickly descend ere any wake — And thou regret this ling'ring stay ! Haste ! for the moments fleetly glide, And gray-ey'd morning soon will break- Oh ! fly and be my happy bride — Awake ! my fair one, list ! awake ! J70 SONG. I saw thy bosom heave a sigh When last I met thee, dearest ; I saw the tear-drop in thine eye, Tho' it then shone the clearest ; And well I deem'd that artless tear Was shed for one thou lov'd too dear ! I saw thy rosy cheek so soft, Blushing when first I met thee ; That though, alas ! I've tried it oft, My soul could ne'er forget thee ; Why am I doom'd to think on thee When thou wilt never think on me f I saw thy lips of roseate hue, Grow pale when he departed ; And in that eye of heav'nly blue, I saw the tear had started ; Why weep when forc'd to bid adieu, To one whose love had ne'er been true ? 171 I see thy bright eyes' lucid tide, Though from my gaze retreating ; Striving in vain the joy to hide Which in thy breast is beating ; 'Tis joy to me if thou art blest, Though it must rob this heart of rest ! 172 SONG. Oh ! yes, I swear to love thee true, This heart can own no other's sway ; Thine image still I'll keep in view, From thee my thoughts can never stray ! Then, gentle lady, trust my love, From one so fair, I ne'er can sever ; Oh ! try me, Emma, when I prove Unworthy — cast me off for ever ! 173 SONG. Oh ! Rosa, though my heart is breaking, Yet when I view thy matchless charms ;- Each pulse of life and love is waking, I lose my woes in pleasure's arms ! But when the hour of bliss is oyer, When pleasure's soft illusions cease ; Oh ! Rosa, then thy wretched lover Finds nought to sooth his soul to peace. Then, Rosa, smile, subdue my sorrow, Oh ! steal me from myself away ;— By dreaming of a happy morrow, Let me forget I live to day ! 174 SONG. It is not when tear-drops bedew the bright eye, And the breast seems o'erladen with woe ; That the feeling and truth of a soul we descry, Or the pure source of sorrow can know : For tears may be feign'd (as too often they are) And taught from the eyelids to start ; Whilst feeling and warmth from the soul may be far, And sorrow may ne'er touch the heart ! Believe me, the bosom as deeply receives The impressions which sorrow awakes ; — And the heart, without shedding a tear, truly grieves, Though no passion an outward show makes ; — 175 When the tear-drop is o'er, its cause is forgot, (It was taught from the eyelid to start ;) But the bright gem of pity, for misery's lot, Is silently wept in the heart ! 176 ANACREONTIC SONG. What's the use to sigh and pine Or give way to sorrow ? — To-night let's drink the sparkling wine, We'll think of care to-morrow. Care will come and joy will cease, Love will rob our hearts of peace ; Lira, lira la, lira, lira, la — Care will come to-morrow. Come our glasses let us fill, Join in merry chorus — Age will come our joys to chill — Then snatch the bliss before us. Now we'll only think of joy — Care may soon our bliss destroy ; — Lira, lira la, lira, lira, la — Care will come to-morrow ! ..» f ^JL uc SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY lllllllllllllllllil llllllll AA 000075 996 9 HI