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 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 
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