ON THE DEATH OF A LADY.
SWEET spirit! if thy airy sleep
Nor sees my tears, nor hears my sighs,
Oh! I will weep, in luxury weep,
Till the last heart's-drop fills mine eyes.
But if thy sainted soul can feel,
And mingles in our misery;
Then, then, my breaking heart I'll seal—
Thou shalt not hear one sigh from me!
The beam of morn was on the stream,
But sullen clouds the day deform:
Thou wert, indeed, that morning beam,
And death, alas! that sullen storm.
Thou wert not form'd for living here,
For thou wert kindred with the sky;
Yet, yet we held thee all so dear,
We thought thou wert not form'd to die!
WRITTEN IN THE BLANK LEAF OF A LADY'S
COMMON-PLACE BOOK.
HERE is one leaf reserved for me,
From all thy sweet memorials free ;
And here my simple song might tell
The feelings thou must guess so well.
But could I thus, within thy mind,
One little vacant corner find,
Where no impression yet is seen,
Where no memorial yet has been,
Oh! it should be my sweetest care
To write my name for ever there!
LIKE him who trusts to summer skies,
And puts his little bark to sea,
Is he who, lured by smiling eyes,
Consigns his simple heart to thee.
For fickle is the summer wind,
And sadly may the bark be toss'd;
For thou art sure to change thy mind,
And then the wretched heart is lost.
WRITTEN DURING ILLNESS.
THE wisest soul, by anguish torn,
Will soon unlearn the lore it knew;
And when the shrining casket's worn,
The gem within will tarnish too.
But love's an essence of the soul,
Which sinks not with this chain of clay;
Which throbs beyond the chill control
Of withering pain or pale decay.
And surely, when the touch of death
Dissolves the spirit's mortal ties,
Love still attends the soaring breath,
And makes it purer for the skies!
O Rosa! when, to seek its sphere,
My soul shall leave this orb of men,
That love it found so blissful here
Shall be its best of blisses then!
And, as in fabled dreams of old,
Some airy genius, child of time,
Presided o'er each star that roll'd,
And track'd it through its path sublime;
So thou, fair planet, not unled,
Shalt through thy mortal orbit stray;
Thy lover's shade, divinely wed,
Shall linger round thy wandering way.
Let other spirits range the sky,
And brighten in the solar gem;
I'll bask beneath that lucid eye
Nor envy worlds of suns to them!
No!-when that heart shall cease to beat,
And when that breath at length is free;
Then, Rosa, soul to soul we'll meet,
And mingle to eternity!
"In lachrymas verterat omne merum."-Tib., lib. i., eleg. 5.
PRESS the grape, and let it pour
Around the board its purple shower:
And while the drops my goblet steep,
I'll think-in woe the clusters weep.
Weep on, weep on, my pouting vine:
Heaven grant no tears, but tears of wine.
Weep on; and, as thy sorrows flow,
I'll taste the luxury of woe!
ANACREONTIC.
FRIEND of my soul! this goblet sip,
"Twill chase that pensive tear;
'Tis not so sweet as woman's lip,
But, oh! 'tis more sincere.
Like her delusive beam,
"Twill steal away thy mind:
But, like affection's dream,
It leaves no sting behind!
Come, twine the wreath, thy brows to shade;
These flowers were cull'd at noon;-
Like woman's love the rose will fade,
But, ah! not half so soon!
For though the flower's decay'd,
Its fragrance is not o'er;
But once when love's betray'd,
The heart can bloom no more!
"Neither do I condemn thee; go, and sin no more!"-St John viii. 11.
O WOMAN! if by simple wile
Thy soul has stray'd from honour's track,
'Tis mercy only can beguile,
By gentle ways, the wanderer back.
The stain that on thy virtue lies,
Wash'd by thy tears, may yet decay;
As clouds that sully morning skies
May all be wept in showers away.
Go, go-be innocent, and live—
The tongues of men may wound thee sore;
But Heaven in pity can forgive,
And bids thee "go, and sin no more!"
ON HER ASKING THE AUTHOR WHY SHE HAD SLEEPLESS NIGHTS.
I'LL ask the sylph who round thee flies,
And in thy breath his pinion dips,
Who suns him in thy lucent eyes,
And faints upon thy sighing lips.
I'll ask him where's the veil of sleep
That used to shade thy looks of light;
And why those eyes their vigil keep
When other suns are sunk in night.
And I will say-Her angel breast
Has never throbb'd with guilty sting;
Her bosom is the sweetest nest
Where slumber could repose his wing.
And I will say-Her cheeks of flame,
Which glow like roses in the sun,
Have never felt a blush of shame,
Except for what her eyes have done!
Then tell me, why, thou child of air,
Does slumber from her eyelids rove?
What is her heart's impassion'd care?-
Perhaps, O sylph! perhaps, 'tis love!
ELEGIAC STANZAS.
How sweetly could I lay my head
Within the cold grave's silent breast;
Where sorrow's tears no more are shed,
No more the ills of life molest.
For, ah! my heart, how very soon
The glittering dreams of youth are past!
And long before it reach its noon,
The sun of life is overcast.
WHEN Time was entwining the garland of years,
Which to crown my beloved was given,
Though some of the leaves might be sullied with tears,
Yet the flowers were all gather'd in heaven!
And long may this garland be sweet to the eye,
May its verdure for ever be new!
Young Love shall enrich it with many a sigh,
And Pity shall nurse it with dew!
AND are you then a thing of art,
Enslaving all, and loving none;
And have I strove to gain a heart
Which every coxcomb thinks his own?
Do you thus seek to flirt a number,
And through a round of danglers run,
Because your heart's insipid slumber
Could never wake to feel for one?
Tell me at once if this be true,
And I shall calm my jealous breast;
Shall learn to join the dangling crew,
And share your simpers with the rest.
But if your heart be not so free,—
Oh! if another share that heart,
Tell not the saddening tale to me,
But mingle mercy with your art.
THE SURPRISE.
CHLORIS, I swear, by all I ever swore,
That from this hour I shall not love thee more.― "What! love no more? Oh why this alter'd vow?" Because I cannot love thee more than now !
THOU hast sent me a flowery band,
And told me 'twas fresh from the field;
That the leaves were untouch'd by the hand,
And the purest of odours would yield.
And indeed it was fragrant and fair;
But, if it were handled by thee,
|