1 ^^m $|H ^^^^^H| n '^^^ 3 1 ^^^^^^h' EGION/ III ) Ol ^^^^^^K ^^^^^K 1 7 ^^^ ^^^^^^^^^E h i ^^^^^^^^Hi ^^^^^^^^H^ I7 s ^^^^^H' I ' ^m^:^ |8 = i ^^^^^^^^^^^H ^^^^^H' THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES THE DESERTER. THE DESERTER, a Cale: MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. i\LFRED BUNN. LONDON: PIllNIED FOR ROBERT JENNINGS, 2, POULTRY, J!V JA.MKS .M()Vi:S, (MIEVIM.E SXaEET. M.DCXC.XVir. PR GPSTJL SDeMcation. TO ALMIRA. I. For many moments of that sweet delight Which a!) must know who ever dwelt with thee ; For many pure regrets no time can blight, And some calm tears I thought were shed for me, I send this nursling of my minstrelsy. Vly heart's bright Spirit! but it cannot tell Hope's deepest impulse, Feeling's full degree ; Tiirobs which have slept so long, they now may swell In passions warm and wild,, it were in vain to quell I 816658 TI DEDICATION. II. What is this come upon me ? 'tis a flame That inly burns, yet feels not to consume ; That strives, that thrills within me, all the same If gladness give ray cheek her rip'ning bloom, Or sorrow the intensity of gloom ! It is a meteor, passing o'er my sight, To blazon, glimmer, slumber, then relume ; Something in lustre like the sainted light Shed from above on man, save that it knows not night ! III. I should mistrust the sacred ray of Heaven, But that I see it sparkling in thine eyes; An orb of beauty to the blind world giv'n. Which, to its latest setting, dearly dies In tearless lustre, on men's destinies ! Mine has been dark indeed ; and as the while The day-god glitter'd from liis throne of skies. To dazzle others into strife or guile; He never beam'd on niw, till from thy lucid smile ! DEDICATION. VII IV. If from this cell of thinking I have sougltt To drive all visions, idly basking there ; If to forgetfuiness I give each thought, Save one, I fain would hope with thee to share, One, tho' it soothe or torture, I must bear ; One, all so pure, e'en reason must approve, Nor dare to banish from its secret lair; If Duty, Fame, nor Time can e'er remove This first and fond impression is it not of love? V. -Calm, calm awhile. I must not tell thee now. What most is circling round my beating heart; For after days may teach me to avow More than I yet can venture to impart. If o'er this page thy kindred tear should start. Wrung from the bed of Feeling's transient pain ; Know, Lady, it will serve to balm the smart, Passion has planted with a deathless stain ; A spot on Memory's tablet fated to remain ! <VUi DEDICATION. VI. It is a wreath of song, at times I've twin'd With leaves and flow'rets of a tender hue ; Young emblems fancy, in her sportive mind, Has rear'd and cuU'd, when, sparkling to the view, A world of fairy-life before her grew ! I offer thee the garland, and, withal. What drops of tribute the kind world bedew ; Nay, the bright smiles from partial eyes that fall, Shall be resigned to her, the Spirit of them all 1 ADVERTISEMENT. A RECENT occurrence, the subject of public controversy, may be supposed to have given rise to the reflections embodied in the follow- ing tale. The incidents in themselves are speculative: whether the illustrations are correct, is submitted to the discrimination of the Reader: whether the conclusions are just, Futurity alone can determine. CONTENTS. Page The Deserter 1 Notes 33 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Stanzas to Evening 39 A Melody 42 Zelma's Lament 4G Elegiac Stanzas 48 A Song 53 The Claptive to the Setting Sun 55 Farewell 58 Stanzas 61 xn CONTENTS. Pace To a Flower, on Charlotte's Birth-day 63 Stanzas to Liberty 65 A Song 67 A Duett 69 To Miss ** 72 Conclusion 77 THE DESERTER. " Rosa non colta in sna stagion, si ch' clU " Impallidisca in sulla siepe ombrosa! " Orlando Furlnm. Canto xxvi. THE DESERTER. A TALE. I. Since happy childhood on me dawn'd, Ere care disturb'd its tranquil lot, Ere sadness moved, or fear forewarn'd : - Dark presages I soon forgot ! I was my parents' constant care, .5 The burthen of their peaceful prayer; A Mother's hope and sole employ, My Father's " pretty bluc-ey'd boy :" I recollect they liv'd in love, And vows in sweetness spoken; 10 b2 THE DESERTER. Whose fondness time could not remove, Of which I was the token ! My tongue would falter to express How brightly smil'd their eyes on me ; The flow'ret of their happiness 1 5 First bloora'd in my fair infancy. Twere vain the tumults to assuage Which swell'd, and swells with memory's age Of thoughts, that feeling cannot quell, And yet expression cannot tell ; 20 Which now, calm, silent, unconfin'd, Then rush in conflict o'er the mind : They come and go, like mists that fly Along a summer twiliglit sky ; Or trembling gales that idly sigh Qj At times, through Heaven's fair canopy : THE DESERTER. Yet, could I one brief moment steal, One hour from time's decay ; I might some faithful thoughts reveal. Time has not wash'd away ! 30 I could recall some looks of light. That woo'd me once with their delight. While instinct whispers in mine ear, I was than life to them more dear ; And I can trace 35 On memory's space. Some sacred spots, tho' lapp'd in night, Forgetfulness can 7wt efface ! n. My life, when boyhood's sun had past, In fortune's varying mould was cast ; 40 THE DESERTER. She lent to me that faithless smile To others well extended ; And what could welcome or beguile, Within my fate was blended : She link'd me in the sacred chain 5 That bound my country's pride ; It fetter'd 'twas a pleasing pain I could not hate nor chide: It fetter'd ! Ah, the softest hue Enchantment's self can give the view ; 60 The sun-beam in the silent skies, Or eve, when distant day-light dies. And every thought they bid arise ; Yon woodland vulcs of fairy scene. Its beds and bowers of evergreen, Its weeping streams, and swelling breeze That wantons o'er the waving trees, TH DSERTR. And Nature's garb, howe'er profuse In beauty, fade away by use ! I know not e'en if smiles of pride 60 On woman's sainted cheek that glide. That light man's life, and are his guide In fortune's stormiest day ; I know not, if, by gazing still, With passion's wild, transported will, 65 They do not seem to die away ! What wonder, then, that o'er me came Dark discontentment's with'ring flame ? A feeble spark, first caught from sadness. Lighted to crime bursting to madness 70 Hung, like a vapour-cloud, upon the mind, ^ To shade the soul the senses blind And, o'er the eye of feeling, fall A cold, pale, melancholy pall ! THR DESERTER. Ill; " Farewell, my child," my parent wept, 75 M'bile to its bed ihe warm drop crept, To teach me, as it gently fell. How dear to sorrow that " farewell !" " We part, my boy, but with thee go The soft regrets of many years : " 80 (Young flow'rets of the fairest glow, Pale emblems of the tenderest woe, Which bloom and fade, but only show Remembrance in her tears !) " I stretch my arms thy limbs to grasp, 85 And almost think the form I clasp, ( For use, tlio' Nature's second will, Is first in Nature's feelings still ) THE DESERTER. The same in love, in light, in grace. As that in youth I did embrace ; QO And, o'er my breast, now seem to trace That sacred, warm, devoted place, Where oft thy head hath lain ; While, on my heart, and in thine eye, I watch'd the fairy spirit fly, 95 Which check'd our mutual pain. Go and if Hope can bear thy name Through the rough, danger'd path of Fame, And make thee all its visions frame ; Thy worth shall be to worlds afar, 100 The soldier's beaming battle-star. His watch-word, through the fields of war! I bend to Heav'n a pious knee, Which oft hath nurst and fondled thee ; 10 THE DESERTER. To waft up to its realms of air, 105 My sighs of sadness, breath 'd in prayer. But I must chide this wasting grief, That falls in fulness, not relief; Co go and if thy bosom beat With all I say or ask ; 110 Let duty in thy mind repeat Thy first and noblest task ! I next would bid thee think on me. Thy Mother, first in misery ; Oh, let the words my heart that swell. Mi Devote thee to their silent spell : Be happy, Adrian farewell ! " IV. I told thee, stranger, how I flew From all I valued, lov'd, and knew; THE DESERTElt. 11 A Father's smiles, a Mother's arms, 120 And young Matilda's speaking charms, For honor, in the world's alarms ! I told thee, how I woo'd the laws Of freedom, in my Country's cause. When first I join'd the warrior-clang, 125 A happy, thoughtless youth ; In fancy of those scenes I sang, I sigh'd to see in truth ! Tis thus, the young creative brain From fantasy is led to pain ; 130 Lur'd on by phantoms of success. To sights of deepest bitterness ; And danger is its dearest choice, Tho' child of caution's chiding voice ! 12 THE DESERTER. Thus, only three fair moons had shed 135 Their looks of lustre on my head. When instant peril thrcaten'd near ! Through storms of horror, ways of fear, Though to oppose us, thousand foes In wild confusion round us rose; 140 \\c pass'd, a warlike, trusty band, AVith resolution's heart and hand. My deadliest foe I met in fight. He fell before me ; in my sight A bird of prey did on him light, J io To rend each vein, and witli rod beak His heart, with life still quivering, break. I pass'd him as I would the worm That drags on earth its clammy form ; TH DESERTER. 13 I pass'd him, through the strife to ride, 150 "With friends and fortune by my side, But stopt : she chang'd : some dear ones died, And left me dumb : I saw the blood In life-drops from their bosoms gushing ; It flew to mine I rallied stood 155 "While shame was on my chill cheek blushing, Young valour through my pulses rushing, And wild revenge my feeling flushing ! Xo blow could stop, no harm dismay. For fear had lost her feeble sway ; 1^0 Fate chang'd again and at her look False desperation fled ; She taught me every frown to brook Adversity could shed ! 14 THE DESERTEB. I learnt her lesson thank'd her, too ; l65 Since, soon it gave my hand to do Those death-deeds, others long shall rue. I thank'd her, for before us flew Those brigands, Hope had bid us brave. And Pity stoops just to enslave : 1 70 While beam'd in Liberty's bright eye, The lustre-crown of " Victory ! " V. It is a strange, but fatal truth, (*) Conception cannot know ; That, in Misfortune's direst ruth, 1/5 Young Happiness, with fairer glow Than Joy's bright day could ever show, Wings o'er us, laughing at our woe ! THE DESERTER. 15 And, from Adversity's rude night, Imagination wings her flight, 180 With finer, bolder, wilder light. The bird, from its captivity, Sings sweeter, than on wing of glee It chirp'd, its mountain liberty ! The prisoner, from his stony cell, 185 Paints Freedom's high-inspiring spell. In hues more gayly, dearly shaded, Than when its star-beam had not faded; Tis hopelessness within the heart, Or soft endearments that impart I50 A wound to memory, never dying. Regrets in wakefulness still lying; Soft, as the rosy tints that rest Upon a lake's unruffled breast 16 THE DESERTER. As the sun's last receding ray 195 Along its waters dies away I Tis restlessness within the mind, Which discontentment serves to blind, Or rooted sorrow, inly bleeding, Whose flame despair is rudely feeding ! 200 VI. I laid aside my helmet crested, I sheath'd my steel, my war-horse rested ; The scenes in which my feelings prided Have vanish'd and my hopes subsided ! In solitude, reflection keeps 205 Her vigils, long and dear ; () And memory, in silence, weeps A still-rencwin" tear ! THE DESERTER. 17 Conjecture passes o'er the brain, Like vivid lightnings through the sky ; 210 Thought comes, and ebbs, then flows again, As vapours o'er the waves that fly, Or autumn breezes, as they cry Along the leafy -cover'd plain ! Dissatisfaction follows thought, 215 When wisdom's impulses decay, Then feeling flies from reason's sway, In visions from temptation caught, \Viib hope and fear intensely wrought! It goads our actions into crime, 220 To trample on the laws of time ; To quit the path where honor leads, And sully fame's fair, early deeds. c 18 THE DESERTER. Man's heart is like the tender rose, In frailty begotten ; 225 The weeping gale upon it blows It dies, and is forgotten ! Or, should it from the dew-drop borrow A balm, 't will wither by the morrow; Or bloom its short precarious hour, ?30 An ever-changing, faithless flower ! I cannot from my brain unfold The dreams that hover'd there ; Idea madden'd yet, so cold, To triumph o'er despair : 'J35 lalse feeling, goaded into life, Seduc'd by pride, bcguil'd in stiife : THE DESERTE. 19 Dark dreams by darker truth requited. Sensation in delirium blighted. Passions in their own force delighted, 240 Divided most, yet most united : A void of wildest spaciousness, A hope of light, tho' little less Than the last lustres that decay In twilight, dying far away ! 245 All this, and more, I fain would speak, Of every throb I feel ; Of deepest impulse, strong or weak ; Of thoughts, contending but to break In tumult : yet they vainly seek 250 Upon my lip to steal ; Tlioy inly strive, but are congoal'd. And fix ; they cannot be rcveai'd ; 20 THE DESERTER. For to their blacken'd cave they shrink, While wand'ring on expression's brink ! 255 But bast thou n\ark'd at noon-day tide, The sun in heaven straying ; And through its bright blue ocean glide, When not a cloud is playing ; It is a sight of fair surprise, 260 And meet alone for angel's eyes ; Tho' like, withal, the tearful ray That lightens man's uncertain day. Fleeting, like Time, with winged power Across young Pleasure's full-blown bower : 265 And hast thou, when bcguil'd an hour. To watch the sun-beam, cull the flower, Or court the cool bank of the brook ; Seen all this sacred beauty shook. THE DESERTER. 21 Yon orb and sky, along thy path, 270 One moment change from smiles to wrath, And die before the tempest's lower 1 It comes, it gathers, cloud on cloud, In blackness, like a demon shroud ; While battling thunders swell the storm, 275 To burst on Heaven's trembling form! More dreary frowns the wide expanse. And lightnings thro' its desert dance; The torrents stream, the whirlwinds throw Their fury o'er creation's brow ; 280 With warring winds, and sheeted rain, Are mingled, part, then join again, Nor seem to know a resting spot : Such, stranger, was my lot ! 22 THE DESERTER. VII. I know not what within me grew, 2S5 It wfts some power none ever knew ; It lur'd me on from doubt to deed. Then left me like a weaken'd weed, Torn by the blast from off its stem, And strew'd on earth, a nameless gem ! 290 I fled the friends I cherish'd most, They secra'd ( yet why?) no longer dear : I quitted them : a rebel host, A band of boldness, lingcr'd near ! I join'd these men who deal in strife ; 295 They woo'd me to become their chief; 1 gave them up a traitor's life, And found their friendship and belief! THE DESERTER. 23 What foUow'd, fills an useless name, But from oblivion it may claim 300 An heritage, in all the same ! In head and heart I soon became That reckless and unfeeling thing. Whose frown was death, and smile a sting ! A few brief months had o'er me past 305 They chang'd me : on the rude world cast, I stood a hving mark of hate, In happiness most desolate ! My early friends were sadly chang'd, Their hearts, like mine, as much estrang'd : 310 From fortune's very loftiest lot INly high-born virtue fell; The name and lineage were forgot, Once Honor's brightest spell; 24 THE DESERTER. And thus it is with those who fly 915 To feeling's dire extremity ! VIII. If thou hast ft'lt the fiery throng Of passions, powerless yet strong, Rise o'er thee, like a low'ring play Of clouds, upon a stormy day ; 320 That rage awhile, and then convulse The darting brain, and beating pulse ; Nor rest in their ungovern'd gloom. Till they within themselves consume; Yet while the cope is blackest o'er thee, 325 In dazzling agony before thee, Hope still is lending to thine eye A distant gloom of vacancy ! THE DESERTER, 25 If thou hast felt the cold embrace Of deadliest despair, 330 That hugs thee in its chilly space, Only to welter, on thy face, In stiller, blacker glare : Then will reality reveal The wasting dreariness I feel ; 335 From fall to fall I am so low, That life no duller ebb can know ; And better that its waves should ride. To whelm me in their swelling tide. My arm of valour, nerve of strength, 340 My blood hath almost fled at length ; And what within me seems to strive, Is fluttering Nature just alive ! 26 THE DESERTER. The Tiger, in his gory lair, When eager hunters fouse him there, 345 With me in torture may compare, And I his tearless fate may share. I know not, if the winds on high Do not, to breathe my follies, sigh ; Or vapoury clouds, with swollen eye, 350 Shed tears upon my destiny ! Beset with numbers, gathering round To crush me in tliiir might ; Destruction, with the firmest bound, Is bursting on my sight; 355 And every wind, with hissing sound, A ucath-cuie in its flijilit ! THE DESERTER. 27 It is a pang that never ends, The keenest torture life attends, When frown of foes, or smile of friends, 350 An equal indistinctness lends. And such the anguish throbbing now Across my heated heart and brow ; I am the vilest, saddest thing, That o'er tlie damp earth flaps its wing ! 3^5 When toss'd on water-mountains, coiling high To dew the clouds that flit along the sky, Some labouring vessel, fctter'd by the shock Bearing the wave upon the pointed rock. Strives through the opening vale still to explore 370 Its path of danger, till the flabhing roar Heaves It in fra.^'ments on the beaten shore : 28 THE DESERTER. Then, in that moment, should thine eye behold Some bleeding bosom, flying from life's hold, Some closing eye, that calmly moves its gaze, 375 To look for pity from some Angel's face; Say, couldst thou watch it linger on in woe, And not the hand, by feeling giv'n, bestow ? Say, couldst thou view the eye its life-drops weep, And gaze, then give the body to the deep 380 Watch the last struggle o'er the waters roll, And see it sink to death's unknown control ? IX. What armed men arc gathering there ? What shouts are lingering on the air ? There sparkles blood within their smile ; 3i5 Tis treachery, without its wile. THE DESERTER. 29 I stand the mark at which they aim ; 'Tis well, revenge must waste its flame ; 'Tis come, and I must learn to bear Those pangs which I have fear'd to share ; 350 More near, and now they rush upon me, And stand ; but still they have not won me! We cannot give the life we take, Nor reunite the heart we break ; And, ah ! nor days, nor years, nor time, 395 Can pardon suicide's dark crime ! They gather round, and now behold Remains of madness, deep and bold. Whose fulness grief can but unfold ! They gaze the steel that honor stain'd 400 In other hours, now widely drain'd 30 THE DESERTER. The life-blood from his bosom pouring, That sent his soul ah, whither soaring ? To some drear realms of stranger air. Whose passing gale sighs forth " beware ! " 405 It is a lesson man should learn, That Nature's law, however stern, Is God's creation, Heaven's light, Whose purity he should not blight. They left hira, o'er his body sprinkling 410 Some tears of seeming sorrow ; His Star of Fate was o'er him twinkling ; It faded by the morrow ! It set, and then appcar'd again. The' sadly chang'd it had a stain 415 The memory trembles to retain ! THE DESERTER. 31 It faded ; 'twere not well to say How darkly beam'd its latest ray ; Once more it faintly met the eye, Then sunk into eterxity ! 420 X \ NOTES. NOTES. Note (), page 14, line 173. It is a strange but fatal truth. The lines contained in this section are the effects of reflection, strongly assisted by the following beautiful sentiments : " C'est une chose bien singuliere, que mon imagination ne se monte jamais plus agreablement que quand mon etat est le nioins agreable ; et qu'au contralrc, elle est nioins riante lorsqjue tout rit autour de moi. Ma mauvaise lete ne peut s'assujettir aux choses. Elle ne sauroit embcllir, elle veut crecr. Les objets reels s'y pciguent tout au plus tels qu'ils sont ; cllo nc soit parcr que Ics objets iniaginaircs. Si je veux peindre le printcmps, il faut que je sois en liivcr : sijc veux dtcrire un beau paysagc, il faut que je sois dans dcs niurs ; ct j'ai dit cent fois, que si jamais j'etois a la Bastille j'y ferois le tableau de la liberie. " 36 NOTES. Note (*>), page \6, line 206. In solitude re/lection keeps. An illustration of tlie effects of loneliness may be found in this t]uotation : " Michael Ducret, while he was confiiieil in the castle of Aar- burg, in the canton of Bcrnc, measured the heiglit of the Alps." Zimmermnv. KM) OF THE rOEM, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. .39 STANZAS TO EVENING. I. The twilight beam in Heaven is setting, Its dews the leaves are lightly wetting ; Hung o'er the earth in silvery brightness, Like a spread veil of purest whiteness! n. The stream in gentlest murmur gushes, Soft as the quivering notes of thrushes; Trembles awhile, then seeks its pillow Beneath the smooth fringe of the willow ! 40 POEMS. III. Throughout the skies the stars arraying, In silent lustre all are playing; To watch the night, in beauty weeping O'er mortal eyes in darkness sleeping! IV. Then, o'er the waters idly glancing, You sec the imag'd wanderers dancing ; la one continued blaze of motion, Along the tranquil line of Ocean ! V. Tis peaceful all yet, in its stillness. The heart is wrapt in solemn chillness; An awful spell, that, as it shineth, Around the soul its magic twincth. POEMS. 41 VI. Twill pass away ; and, with the morrow, Comes former ill, and other sorrow ; Thus, day and night in union blending, 'Tis pangs and madness never ending ! 42 POEMS. A MELODY. " MoTcmnr ttAm, nescio qno pacto, locU ipsii in qaibos eonun qoos diligimiu ant admiramnr, adwnt vrstigia." r. The days of youth have glided by, like wild enchant- ment's dream. And early joys that fed its flame withdraw their lessening beam ; Care's heavy curse upon the breast hath fix'd a venom'd thong, "Which the cold worm of dark Despair in silence draws along! POEMS. 43 II. The thoughts of youth have wove their chain so firmly round the heart. That, oh ! 'twere better e'en from life, than its fond links, to part : For life is but a blighted tree, or some sequester'd plain. But they its lonely light of peace that will not set again ! III. Friends of my soul, beneath whose smile my morning years were pass'd. Like gleams of light, or music sounds, that gladden while they last ; Though vanish'd, there's an awful joy to view the dear remains Of faded forms, whose sad retreat the tear of memory stains ! 44 POEMS. IV. And thou, fair flower! that early shon'st across my thorny way, To cheer the solitude of Hope where I was wont to stray ; Or chase the past, the present soothe, a Star of Fate before ; Sear'd is thy ray, thy bloom is shorn, pale, trembling and no more ! V. A hated world, false smiles and hearts have stain'd the goblet's brow, \Vhose mantling tide, in other hours, their folly woo'd to flow : Then, o'er the mind's distracted page as faithful me- mory biglis. In peaceful, light, and happy dreams her former days arise ! POBMS. 45 VI. Upon her timeless tablet fix'd, my heart would fain delay, To weep the tears which once I wept, but others wip'd away : My madden'd eye then upward turns to where, enshrin'd above, Those kindred smiles, recall'd from earth, in starry stillness rove ! VII. Oh, for the falcon's wing of flight to reach that promis'd clime, Where the mourner's tear, and captive's sigh forego the call of Time : Where heart to heart in union blends, like love's responsive kiss, And, guided by Eternity, floats thro' its boundless blibb! ICthJuttj, 1316. 46 POEMS. ZELMA^ LAMENT'. I. I WAFT along the balmy air \Vhicli o'er my dungeon sweeps, A sigh that breathes as fresh and fair, Though inwardly it weeps ! I mingle with the storm that rides Along the blacken'd sky, A tear, as sadly dark, that glides From Sorrow's swollen eye ! Tlicse woriLi were given to Mr. T. Welbli, by wliom \h(-y were arraii'^cd to some exfiiji>ilc Illa^ic; and the wliole coinpo- sitiuii sung uitli coii^^iderable etlect by Miss Merry, in the re- vived OjMTa of rv;i.uah Drooi;, at Drury L-iiie 'I'lieatre. POEMS. 47 2. The murmur of the wanton breeze, The trembling of the gale, Are hush'd, and pillow'd on the trees That wave in yonder vale ! My lid is dry, ray breast is still. They cannot wake again ; My heart is bursting from the thrill It beats, in silent pain ! 48 POEMS. elegiac Sitanjas. Ob Kluriosa io vero oinbra ft'lic, Che giaci infra s\ oobile corteggio, Kella beata tua terra ntitrice! I. I watcii'd thy peaceful spirit part On wing of softest light ; The chill blood settled on my heart, Like dampness of the night! It was a dreadful sight And yet so motionless it stole ; With that divine delight, Which breathes but in an angel's soul! Alrten POEMS. 49 11- When direst sickness on thee prest, Not one complaint we heard ; There was a calm upon thy breast, Like solitude unstirr'd ! Perchance one voiceless word Escap'd thy sainted lip in prayer ; Yet even then it err'd, Like sighs of Heaven's stillest air ! in. It fled and left me feelingless Beside thy nameless trunk ; My thoughts to deepest bitterness Within their cloister shrunk ! 50 POEMS. A dimness on me sunk : My senses wander'd from their track, In very madness drunk ; And then in lowest grief came back ! IV. When sense return 'd, I look'd afar To realms of purest day ; I saw thee melt into a Star Of fair, unclouded ray ! Oh, then, how dear the sway Reflection on my fancy kept 1 E'en sorrow wiped away The tears in loneliness she wept ! POEMS. 51 V. I doubting stood beside thy bed, To see if thou wert gone ! I gaz'd 'twas palely dark, and dead - And Echo was alone. One deep intrusive groan Arous'd her : 'twas from sadness hurl'd She sounded back the tone ; It ceas'd I rush'd upon the world ! VI. In secrecy, I sometimes look On what is left of thee : Mine own misfortunes I can brook, From thine, bequeath'd to me ! 412 POEMS. While I in silence see The blessings to thy virtues giv'n ; My sighs in stillness flee, To join thee in the calm of Heav'n ! POEMS. 53 A SONG. I. When every joy this world can give Is blighted in its beam ; When every hope that bid us live, Hath ceas'd to gild_ life's dream : 2. When every form that charms the eyes, Hath vanish'd from its view; And every heart that our hearts prize. Is cold, and silent too ! 54 POEMS. Then what were life? A worthless boon, Twere happier to resign ; A Sun which lapp'd in clouds of noon, May set, but will not shine ! 4. Welcome the icy clasp of death, That freezes o'er the mourner's eye ; And chills the pilgrim's faltering breath, To light them both to peace on high ! POEMS. 55 THE CAPTIVE TO THE SETTING SUN. I. YoK Sun, that slowly dies away Along the trembling wave, Fades from the purer light of day, To night's scquestcr'd grave : While man, lone pilgrim of the hour, A kindred spirit knows ; And, like the tendril of the flower, Blooms but as soon to close ! 56 POEMS. II. Fair orb ! I watch thy seraph bhize, In anguish I adore ; And mourn each tint that faintly plays. Which I may sec no more : Thy morrow's beam, which soon shall rise To gild the matin heath, Will darken o'er an Exile's eyes, Or cloud my pall of death ! III. Thou Sun of Sorrow, fare thee well ! I dare not look again ; The pangs which thus my bosom swell. Arc torture'a deepest stain! POEMS. bT For thou wilt rise, and thou wilt set, And then my aching sight, Which grief has now so rudely wet. May join thy silent flight ! 58 POEMS. iTaretocU. Addio, mia vita! Addio Lace dcgli occbi miei! Quando fcdel mi sei, Cbe plCi bramar dovr6t Adriano in Sfria, Act C// I. Farewell, Mary ! lov'd the dearest By a bosom, the sinccrcst Ever bound to ihcc: The happy days of life may flow, But tliosc fond souls who made them so, .Cannot pass from rue ! POEMS. 59 II. When sparkling pleasure mantled high, And rapture lighted beauty's eye, Bright it shone on mt ; And now, as fades the transient spell. Reflected from my memory's cell Pale it glows on ilicel III; Fair Fate ! within whose magic round The pulses of my soul are bound, While they beat for thee ; Judge, while expression, lost in feeling, Through every vein is wildly stealing; Judge, thyself, forme! 60 POEMS. IV. If friends should change, if foes prevail, Or adverse frowns around thee rail, Cast a thought on me! Turn then, and claim the wonted look Which, thro' a false world's vain rebuke, Long will play round thcc. V. Tho' hatred's sting on thee should fall. The parted, lov'd, and dead recall *, And remember nie : So, when the storms by sorrow nurst, On this devoted head shall burst, RIy heart will break for thee! * Alluding tu u lui-lanciioiy luct. POEMS. '6l STANZAS. In every change of busy life, Through paths of pleasure scenes of strife By rapture mov'd, or grief opprest, To find one gentle, constant breast ; When misery dims the silent eye. Or passion steals the trembling sigh ; When madness darkens round the heart, And cannot rest, nor will depart : By many scorn'd, by most forgot, To meet one s?7iile that changes not ; 62 ]n>BMS. When ev'ry beam that shoDe before So calmly clear, now shines no more; Thro' present ills, or tumults past, To view one set not to the last ; And, if reclaim'd from Earth above. Along the path where all is love. The same sweet Spirit, there, to know, That watch *d our hapless hours below ; A Spirit, smile, and breast, like this. Of purest light, of softest bliss ; Eugcnder'd here enshrin'd in Hcav'n The first and last to sorrow giv'n : Bright, calm, and clear, and never less The full delight of happiness ! POEMS. 6^ TO A FLOWER^ ON CHARLOTTE S BIRTH-DAY. I. Fair flower, within whose sunny circle bound, Unnumber'd beauties sparkle to the sight : Rear'd on some Eden of congenial ground. In splendour pure, in modesty so bright, Wooing luxurious Nature with delight. Though weeping winter should around thee steal, And all thy lustre in its verdure blight; The lip of spring shall kiss away the feel, And to thy bud again its wonted glow reveal ! 64 POEMS. II. Emblem of her, upon whose check array 'd, The bloom of youth hath set its summer hue : Revelling in brightness, by her smiles display '<J, The gazing eye beholds in long review The charms of contemplation ever new : And if the skies of Fate a frown should wear, Or o'er her brow a gloomy garland strew ; Time shall supplant the withering cincture there, To tuine another -wreath, more constant and more fair POEMS. Q^, STANZAS TO LIBERTY. 1. There is a tie to being clings, A chain of sacred grief; Wliich, tho' it drags in silence, bring$ A sweet relief. Tis Freedom the lone Captive's song, The echo of his sigh ; 'Tis light, that clears the Patriot's distant way, Where Fortune changes, or when friends betray ; Which, as he weeps along, Beams from his tearful eye ! r 66 POEMS. 2. It is the dream that haunts his sleep. Avenger of his care : It is the drop he wakes to weep, Wrung from despair ! And, hark ! what warbling thrills the Sphere, To tell him he is free : Calm as an Angel's flight, soft as the hymn Wafted in sighs from parting Cherubim : It dies upon his car His native song of Liberty ! POEMS. 6/ A SONG. 1. When o'er the dark grey sky The twilight vapours weep, When dews begin to fly Along the swelling deep : Though sad, though fearful all, And pallid as the tomb ; The morning's light will fall. To dash away the gloom. 68 POEMS. When madness tears the breast, Or feeling's aching lid. By passion wrung from rest. In deepest grief is hid : This is a sacred pain, That never can decay, Until the heart's damp stain In sorrow melts away ! POEMS. C9 A DUETT*. HE. Oh fly, lovely girl, from the cold-hearted smile Of those, who but strive to undo us ; We will bask in the sunshine of some distant isle. Where sorrow no more can pursue us ! SHE. With thee I could seek out the sycamore shade. Where the breeze of the twilight reposes ; Or follow the range of the mountainous glade, To watch the day-beam as it closes ! These words are set to ruusic by Mr. Charles Horn ; by wlioni, and Miss Merry, they were sung with much sweetness ill the reviTcd opera of Raiuah Drooij. 70 POEMS. BOTH. Then turn to tliis heart while it ventures to seek In the tear of thy feeling a token, A tic which may widen, but never can break, 'Till the link of existence be broken. SHE. In the smile of thy reason my feeling grew warm, As it dazzled in splendour around me ; The dark dreams of grief and despair to disarm. Which in solitude ever surround me. HE. The Sun of my morning has hitherto rose, In the light of its hope to caress thee ; And the calm prayers of night, from their silentrepose. Have wafted to Heaven to bless thcc ! POEMS. 71 BOTH. When the Star of Futurity beams from above, A warning by Providence given ; We'll mingle together the tears of our love. And glide on their course into Heaven ! 72 POEMS. TO MISS 1. There was a form, in earlier days, That fleeted o'er my sight; A soul my fancy hymn'd in praise. With feeling's young delight ! 2. Twas passion, of the wildest wing, Twas strife, as deep in pain : It woke a more distracting spring Than life can charm asain. POEMS. 7^ 3. It pass'd away, but, in its flight, Left worlds of thought behind ; A wreck of hopes, a darkest night Of sorrows, on ray mind. 4. It pass'd : perchance the heart's deceit, Or woe, or death, was there : No matter I had fear'd to meet, And learnt to brave, despair ! 5. Tho' hush'd, the ruins still remain In furrows on my brow ; The shades it caught and shelter'd then, Are deep'ning o'er it noio ! 7<i POEMS. 6, And thus, when first thy smile I met, I shudder'd at the sight; There seem'd a charm within it set. Of unforgotten light ! 7, Of other hours and hopes it spoke, Of lost looks seem'd to tell ; Along my startled heart it broke, A renovated spell ! 8. For days, for years, my breast was dark Nor sense nor soul betray'd ; From introspection, cacli lone spark Of passion felt dccay'd. POEMS. 75 9. But now, there wakes a world of strife, In triumph round my breast; Again distraction's keenest knife Cuts deeeply to its rest! 10. I pardon thee this fatal tear. Once more from feeling wrung; Thou couldst not know how oft and dear For former peace it sprung! 11. I see thee young, I see thee fair, While o'er thy cheek is wrought A softer, more expressive air. Than first bloom'd in my thought. T6 POEMS. 12. I feel it is a task too hard, To weep o'er joys delay'd ; I only ask thee to regard The ruin thou hast made ! d Jan. 1817. POEMS. 77 CONCLUSION. Tis past It was a vision smiling light, That broke upon me in a lonely hour, Dazzling my solitude away. 'Tis past Whether 'twas voiceless instinct, whether a ray, Shed from some Angel-face upon my sight, Or some warm tear, dropp'd by a viewless Seraph On mine aching heart, to melt it into life ; Or other unseen power, I know not ! *Tis past Fled like the summer evening's sigh, 78 POEMS. Vanish'd like instant lightning o'er the Heavens, And as unconscious breath from human lip ! Twas lustre fading from the eye of fancy, Twas music, lost awhile to heart and song, Dying in night ! THE END. IMllNTEl) BY J. MOYKS, Creviile Street, lUttun Gardeo, Loiidoo. This book i DUE on the last date stamped below. .^EC'D LD-URL AUG 3 1 Wf 10M-11-SO 2555 470 rcmimoton rano ! nc. 2D LOS ANGKLES A A 000 073 788 2 W^"^ M. i>rv<