Sons of Greeks, &c. Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers Lethargic dost thou lie ? Awake, and join thy numbers With Athens, old ally! Leonidas recalling, That chief of ancient song, Who saved ye once from falling, The terrible! the strong! Who made that bold diversion In old Thermopyla:, And warring with the Persian To keep his country free; With his three hundred waging The battle, long he stood, And like a lion raging, Expired in seas of blood. Sons of Greeks. &c. TRANSLATION OF THE ROMAIC SONG, Μπενω τσ' περιβόλι μες Ωραιότατη Χαηδή, &ς. THE SONG FROM WHICH THIS IS TAKEN IS A GREAT FA 1. I enter thy garden of roses, Receive this fond truth from my tongue, Which utters its song to adore thee, Yet trembles for what it has sung; As the branch, at the bidding of Nature, Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree, Through her eyes, through her every feature, Shines the soul of the young Haidéo. 2. But the loveliest garden grows hateful When Love has abandon'd the bowers: Bring me hemlock-since mine is ungrateful. That herb is more fragrant than flowers. The poison, when pour'd from the chalice, Will deeply imbitter the bowl; But when drunk to escape from thy malice, My heart from these horrors to save: 3. As the chief who to combat advances Ah, tell me, my soul! must I perish By pangs which a smile would dispel? Would the hope, which thou once bad'st me cherish For torture repay me too well? Now sad is the garden of roses, And mourns o'er thine absence with me. WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE. 1 Dear object of defeated care! Though not of Love and thee bereft, To reconcile me with despair Thine image and my tears are left., 2. 'T is said with Sorrow Time can cope; ON PARTING. 1. The kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left, Till happier hours restore the gift 2. Thy parting glance, which fondly beams, An equal love may see: The tear that from thine eyelid streams Can weep no change in me. 3. I ask no pledge to make me blest Whose thoughts are all thine own. 4. Nor need I write-to tell the tale By day or night, in weal or wo, TO THYRZA. Without a stone to mark the spot, And say, what truth might well have said, By all, save one, perchance forgot, Ah, wherefore art thou lowly laid? By many a shore and many a sea Divided, yet beloved in vain; The past, the future fled to thee To bid us meet-no-ne'er again! Could this have been-a word, a look That softly said, "We part in peace," Had taught my bosom how to brook, With fainter sighs, thy soul's release. And didst thou not, since Death for thee Prepared a light and pangless dart, Once long for him thou ne'er shall see, Who held, and holds thee in his heart? Oh! who like him had watch'd thee here? Or sadly mark'd thy glazing eye, In that dread hour ere death appear, When silent sorrow fears to sigh, Till all was past? But when no inore "T was thine to reck of human wo, Affection's heart-drops, gushing o'er, Had flow'd as fast-as now they flow. Affection's mingling tears were ours? That Love each warmer wish forbore, When prone, unlike thee to repine; But where is thine ?-ah, where art thou / Oft have I borne the weight of ill, But never bent beneath till now! Well hast thou left in life's best bloom The cup of wo for me to drain, If rest alone be in the tomb, I would not wish thee here again; But if in worlds more blest than this Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere, Impart some portion of thy bliss, To ween me from mine anguish here. To bear, forgiving and forgiven STANZAS. 1. Away, away, ye notes of wo. Be silent, thou once soothing strain, Or I must flee from hence, for, oh! I dare not trust those sounds again. To me they speak of brighter days But lull the chords, for now, alas ! I must not think, I may not gaze 2. The voice that made those sounds more sweet A dirge, an anthem o'er the dead! 'T is silent all!-but on my ear A voice that now might well be still: To listen, though the dream be flown. Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep, Then turn'd from earth its tender beam. That scattered gladness o'er his pain. TO THYRZA. 1. One struggle more, and I am free Then back to busy life again. With things that never pleased before : Though every joy is fled below, What future grief can touch me more? Then bring me wine, the banquet bring, That smiles with all, and weeps with none. It was not thus in days more dear, It never would have been, but thou In vain my lyre would lightly breathe! Oblivion! may thy languid wing Wave gently o'er my dying bed! 2. No band of friends or heirs be there, To weep, or wish, the coming blow: No maiden, with dishevell'd hair, To feel, or feign, decorous wo. 3. But silent let me sink to Earth, With no officious mourners near: I would not mar one hour of mirth, Nor startle friendship with a fear. Yet Love, if Love in such an hour In her who lives and hirm who dies. 'T were sweet, my Psyche! to the last Thy features still serene to see: Forgetful of its struggles past, E'en Pain itself should smile on thee. But vain the wish-for Beauty still 7. Then lonely be my latest hour, Without regret, without a groan! For thousands Death hath ceased to lower, And pain been transient or unknown. 8. "Ay, but to die, and go," alas! Where all have gone, and all must go! To be the nothing that I was Ere born to life and living wo! Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen, STANZAS. "HEU QUANTO MINUS EST CUM RELIQUIS VERSARI QUAN TUI MEMINISSE." 1. And thou art dead, as young and fair As aught of mortal birth; And form so soft, and charms so rare, Too soon return'd to Earth! Though Earth received them in her bed, And o'er the spot the crowd may tread In carelessness or mirth, There is an eye which could not brook A moment on that grave to look. 2. I will not ask where thou liest low Nor gaze upon the spot; There flowers or weeds at will may grow, So I behold them not: It is enough for me to prove That what I loved and long must love Like common earth can rot; To me there needs no stone to tell, 'Tis Nothing that I loved so well. The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd The leaves must drop away: I know not if I could have borne As stars that shoot along the sky 7. As once I wept, if I could weep, To gaze, how fondly! on thy face, Uphold thy drooping head; And show that love, however vain, Nor thou nor I can feel again. 8. Yet how much less it were to gain, And more thy buried love endears STANZAS. 1. If sometimes in the haunts of men The semblance of thy gentle shade: Thus much of thee can still restore, And sorrow unobserved may pour The plaint she dare not speak before. 2. Oh, pardon that in crowds awhile, I waste one thought I owe to thee, Nor deem that memory less dear, I would not fools should overhear If not the goblet pass unquaff'd, From all her troubled visions free, For wert thou vanish'd from my mind, For well I know, that such had been A blessing never meant for me; Thou wert too like a dream of Heaven, For earthly love to merit thee. March 14th, 1812 ON A CORNELIAN HEART WHICH WAS BROKEN. 1. Ill-fated Heart: and can it be That thou shouldst thus be rent in twain Have years of care for thine and thee Alike been all employ'd in vain? 2. Yet precious seems each shatter'd part, And every fragment dearer grown, Since he who wears thee, feels thou a t A fitter emblem of his own. TO A YOUTHful friend. 1. Few years have pass'd since thou and I Were firmest friends, at least in name, And childhood's gay sincerity Preserved our feelings long the same. 2. But now, like me, too well thou know'st 3. And such the change the heart displays, If so, it never shall be mine To mourn the loss of such a heart; The fault was Nature's fault, not thine Which made thee fickle as thou art. POEMS. 5. As rolls the ocean's changing tide, 6. It boots not, that together bred, Our childish days were days of joy: My spring of life has quickly fled; Thou, too, hast ceased to be a boy. 7. And when we bid adieu to youth, Slaves to the specious world's control, We sigh a long farewell to truth; That world corrupts the noblest soul. 8. Ah, joyous season! when the mind Dares all things boldly but to lie; Not so in Man's maturer years, When man himself is but a tool When interest sways our hopes and fears, And all must love and hate by rule. 10. With fools in kindred vice the same, Such is the common lot of man: Can we then 'scape from folly free? Can we reverse the general plan, Nor be what all in turn must be? 12. No, for myself, so dark my fate Through every turn of life hath been; Man and the world I so much hate, I care not when I quit the scene. But thou, with spirit frail and light, Wilt shine awhile and pass away; As glow-worms sparkle through the night, But dare not stand the test of day. 14. Alas! whenever folly calls Where parasites and princes meet, (For cherish'd first in royal halls, The welcome vices kindly greet,) Ev'n now thou 'rt nightly seen to add To join the vain, and court the proud. 16. There dost thou glide from fair to fair, That taint the flowers they scarcely taste. 17. But say, what nymph will prize the flatne Which seems, as marshy vapours move, To flit along from dame to dame, An ignis-fatuus gleam of love? 18. For friendship every fool may share? 19. In time forbear; amidst the throng, Be something, any thing, but-mean 1. Well! thou art happy, and I feel Thy husband's blest-and 't will impart When late I saw thy favourite child, I thought my jealous heart would break, But when th' unconscious infant smiled, I kiss'd it for its mother's sake. 4. I kiss'd it, and repress'd my sighs, Mary, adieu! I must away: While thou art blest I'll not repine, But near thee I can never stay; My heart would soon again be thine. 6. I deem'd that time, I deem'd that pride My heart in all, save hope, the same. Yet was I calm: I knew the time I saw thee gaze upon my face, 9. Away! away! my early dream, Remembrance never must awake Oh! where is Lethe's fabled stream? My foolish heart be still, or break. FROM THE PORTUGUESE. In moments to delight devoted, Ah! then repeat those accents never. IMPROMTU, IN REPLY TO A FRIEND |