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"T is thus the world's obtrusive wrongs
Obscure with malice keen
To live and die unseen!
Sic juvat perire.
WAEN wearied wretches sink to sleep,
How heavenly soft their slumbers lie! How sweet is death to those who weep,
To those who weep and long to die ! Saw you the soft and grassy bed,
Where flow'rets deck the green earth's breast ? "T is there I wish to lay my head,
"T is there I wish to sleep at rest !
And you may down that path-way rove,
While I shall take my way through this. Our hearts have suffer'd little harm
In this short fever of desire ; You have not lost a single charm,
Nor I one spark of feeling fire. My kisses have not stain'd the rose
Which Nature hung upon your lip; And still your sigh with nectar flows
For many a raptured soul to sip. Farewell! and when some other fair
Shall call your wanderer to her arms, 'T will be my luxury to compare
Her spells with your remember'd charms. “This cheek," I'll say, “is not so bright
As one that used to meet my kiss ; This eye has not such liquid light
As one that used to talk of bliss !"
Oh ! let not tears embalm my tomb,
None but the dews by twilight given ! Oh! let not sighs disturb the gloom,
None but the whispering winds of Heaven!
Farewell! and when some future lover
Shall claim the heart which I resign, And in exulting joys discover
All the charms that once were mine; I think I should be sweetly blest,
If, in a soft imperfect sigh,
He loves not half so well as I !
THE KISS. Grow to my lip, thou sacred kiss,
On which my soul's beloved swore That there should come a time of bliss
When she would mock my hopes no more; And fancy shall thy glow renew,
In sighs at morn, and dreams at night, And none shall steal thy holy dew
Till thou 'rt absolved by rapture's rite. Sweet hours that are to make me blest,
Oh! fly, like breezes, to the goal, And let my love, my more than soul,
Come panting to this fever'd breast; And while in every glance I drink
The rich o'erflowings of her mind, Oh ! let her all impassion'd sink,
In sweet abandonment resign'd, Blushing for all our struggles past, And murmuring, "I am thine at last !"
A REFLECTION AT SEA. SEE how, beneath the moonbeam's smile,
Yon little billow heaves its breast, And foams and sparkles for a while,
And murmuring then subsides to rest. Thus man,
the sport of bliss and care, Rises on Time's eventful sea; And, having swellid a moment there,
Thus melts into eternity!
Since both are anxious 'o be free ;
If you will send back mine to me. We've had some happy hours together,
But joy must often change its wing ; And spring would be but gloomy weather,
If we had nothing else but spring. "T is not that I expect to find
A more devoted, fond, and true one, With rosier cheek or sweeter mind
Enough for me that she's a new one. Thus let us leave the bower of love,
Where we have loiter'd long in bliss ;
AN INVITATION TO SUPPER
By such a charming guide as you,
While even the planets seem'd to wink,With eyes of fire and lips of dew,
We kept our vigils of delight ?
The heart, that little world of ours,
Unlike the drowsy world of care,
Then, then awaked its sweetest powers,
And all was animation there!
Kiss me once more, and then I fly,
Our parting would to noon-day last ; And I'm no more than Julia's brother;
There, close that languid trembling eye, While she's so like my prudent sister,
And sweetly dream of all the past ! There's few would think how close I've kiss'd her. As soon as Night shall fix her seal But, Julia, let those matters pass!
Upon the eyes and lips of men,
Oh, dearest! I will panting steal
To nestle in thine arms again!
Our joys shall take their stolen flight,
Secret as those celestial spheres But here alone I'll tete-a-tete you,
Which make sweet music all the night,
Unheard by drowsy mortal ears !
On! nothing in life can sadden us, About it, at it, and upon it:
While we have wine and good humour in store And songs address'd, as if I loved,
With this, and a little of love to madden us, To all the girls with whom I've roved.
Show me the fool that can labour for more! Come, pr’ythee come, you 'll find me here, Come, then, bid Ganymede fill every bowl for you, Like Horace, waiting for his dear.?
Fill them up brimmers, and drink as I call : There shall not be to-night, on earth,
I'm going to toast every nymph of my soul for you, Two souls more elegant in mirth;
Ay, on my soul, I'm in love with them all! . And, though our hey-day passion 's fled, The spirit of the love that ’s dead
Dear creatures! we can't live without them,
They 're all that is sweet and seducing to man! Shall hover wanton o'er our head; Like souls that round the grave will fly,
Looking, sighing about and about them,
We dote on them, die for them, all that we can. In which their late possessors lie: And who, my pretty Julia, knows,
Here's Phillis !-whose innocent bosom But when our warm remembrance glows,
Is always agog for some novel desires ; The ghost of Love may act anew,
To-day to get lovers, to-morrow to lose 'em,
Is all that the innocent Phillis requires.-
So vastly good humour'd, whatever is done;
She'll kiss you, and that without whining or whimpers,
And do what you please with you—all out of fun! TURN to me, love! the morning rays
Dear creatures, etc. Are glowing o'er thy languid charms; Take one luxurious parting gaze,
A bumper to Fanny !-I know you will scorn her, While yet I linger in thine arms.
Because she 's a prude, and her nose is so curlid;
But if ever you chatted with Fan in a corner, 'Twas long before the noon of night
You 'd say she's the best little girl in the world ! I stole into thy bosom, dear!
Another to Lyddy!-still struggling with duty, And now the glance of dawning light
And asking her conscience still, "whether she Has found me still in dalliance here.
should;" Turn to me, love! the trembling gleams
While her eyes, in the silent confession of beauty, Of morn along thy white neck stray;
Say, “Only for something I certainly would." Away, away, you envious beams,
Dear creatures, etc. I'll chase you with my lips away!
Fill for Chloe !-bewitchingly simple, Oh! is it not divine to think,
Who angles the heart without knowing her lure; While all around were lull'd in night
Still wounding around with a blush or a dimple,
Nor seeming to feel that she also could cure ! 1 Cænam, non sine candida puella. Cat. Carm. xiii.
1 There are many spurious copies of this song in circula 2 puellam
tion; and it is universally attributed to a gentleman who has Ad mediam noctem ex pecto.
no more right than the Editor of these Poems to any snare Hor. lib. i. sat. 5.
whatever in the composition.-E.
Here's pious Susan !-the saint, who alone, sir,
Could ever have made me religious outright: Por had I such a dear little saint of my own, sir, I'd pray on my knees to her half the long night!
Dear creatures, etc.
COME tell me where the maid is found
Whose heart can love without deceit,
To sigh one moment at her feet.
What air receives her blessed sigh;
To catch one sparkle of her eye! And, if her cheek be rosy bright,
While truth within her bosom lies, I'll gaze upon her, morn and night,
Till my heart leave me through my eyes ! Show me on earth a thing so rare,
I'll own all miracles are true;
Oh! 't is the utmost Heaven can do!
That the oath I might take on it now
The very next glance would undu! Those babies that nestle so sly
Such different arrows have got, That an oath, on the glance of an eye
Such as yours, may be off in a shot! Should I swear by the dew on your lip,
Though each moment the treasure renews, If my constancy wishes to trip,
I may kiss off the oath when I choose! Or a sigh may disperse from that flower
The dew and the oath that are there!
To lose them so sweetly in air !
Nor fancy my faith is a feather ;
And they both must be broken together!
SONG. SWEETEST love! I'll not forget thee;
Time shall only teach my heart, Fonder, warmer, to regret thee, Lovely, gentle as thou art !
Farewell, Bessy! Yet, oh! yet again we 'll meet, love,
Asd repose our hearts at last :
Farewell, Bessy !
May n't be always sought in vain; And the moment of possessingWill 't not, love, repay our pain ?
When I think I stray from thee,
Can it, dearest ! must it be?
JULIA'S KISS. When infant Bliss in roses slept, Cupid upon his slumber crept ; And, while a balmy sigh he stole, Exhaling from the infant's soul, He smiling said, “ With this, with this I'll scent my Julia's burning kiss !" Nay, more; he stole to Venus' bed, Ere yet the sanguine flush had fled, Which Love's divinest, dearest flame Had kindled through her panting frame. Her soul still dwelt on memory's themes, Still floated in voluptuous dreams; And every joy she felt before In slumber now was acting o'er. From her ripe lips, which seem'd to thrill As in the war of kisses still, And amorous to each other clung, He stole the dew that trembling hung, And smiling said, “With this, with this I'll bathe my Julia's burning kiss !".
Whose heart is warmly bound to thee, Close as the tenderest links can bind
A heart as warm as heart can be.
Its look is so shifting and new, 1 All these songs were adapted to airs which Mr. Little composed, and sometimes sung, for his friends: this may account for the peculiarity of metre observable in many of thom.-E.
Oh! I had long in freedom roved,
Though many seem'd my soul to share ; 'T was passion when I thought I loved,
'T was fancy when I thought them fair. E'en she, my Muse's early theme,
Beguiled me only while she warm'd; 'T was young desire that fed the dream,
And reason broke what passion formida But thou-ah! better had it been
If I had still in freedom roved,
Thy last fading glance will illumine the way,
And a kiss be our passport to heaven!
If I had ne'er thy beauties seen,
For then I never should have loved ! Then all the pain which lovers feel
Had never to my heart been known; But, ah! the joys which lovers steal,
Should they have ever been my own? Oh! trust me, when I swear thee this,
Dearest! the pain of loving thee, The very pain, is sweeter bliss
Than passion's wildest ecstasy! That little cage I would not part,
In which my soul is prison'd now, For the most light and winged heart
That wantons on the passing vow. Still, my beloved ! still keep in mind,
However far removed from me, That there is one thou leavest behind
Whose heart respires for only thee!
Thy fate unto another's care,
Cannot confine the heart that 's there.
By ties all other ties above, For I have wed it at a shrine
Where we have had no priest but Love!
Which for a moment mix'd with mine,
would be thine !"
On all thou hast to charm and move ;
And tell me 't is not sin to love!
For sure, if Heaven's decrees be done,
As I was destined to be won!
How sweetly shall I pass my age,
To wanton up and down my cage.
And come to shade car sunny weather,
And both our souls exhale together!
“ COME, tell me,” says Rosa, as, kissing and kissid, I can never meet any that 's dearer!
One day she reclined on my breast;
Of the nymphs you have loved and caress'd.”All, all have their follies, and who will deny
Oh, Rosa ! 't was only my fancy that roved, That ours is the sweetest of any?
My heart at the moment was free;
But I'll tell thee, my girl, how many I've loved, When your lip has met mine, in abandonment sweet,
And the number shall finish with thee!
She taught me the way to be blest;
She taught me to love her, I loved like a child,
But Kitty could fancy the rest.
I have never forgot, I allow;
I have had it by role very often before, Then come to your lover, oh! fly to his shed,
But never by heurt until now! From a world which I know thou despisest; And slumber will hover as light on our bed, Pretty Martha was next, and my soul was all flame, As e'er on the couch of the wisest!
But my head was so full of romance, And when o'er our pillow the tempest is driven,
That I fancied her into some chivalry dame, And thou, pretty innocent ! fearest,
And I was her knight of the lance! I'll tell thee, it is not the chiding of Heaven, But Martha was not of this fanciful school, 'Tis only our lullaby, dearest !
And she laugh'd at her poor little knight;
While I thought her a goddess, she thought me a fool And, oh! when we lie on our death-bed, my love!
And I'll swear she was most in the right.
Again I was tempted to rove;
But Cloris, I found, was so learned in books, “ Farewell! let us hope we're forgiven!"
That she gave me more logic than love!
So I left this young Sappho, and hasten'd to fly
To those sweeter logicians in bliss,
And convince us at once with a kiss !
But Susan was piously given;
On the road that was shortest to heaven! “Oh, Susan!” I've said, in the moments of mirth,
“What's devotion to thee or to me? I devoutly believe there's a heaven on earth,
And believe that that heaven 's in thee!"
Was that her footstep on the hill
Her voice upon the gale ?No; t' was the wind, and all is still:
Oh, maid of Marlivale ! Come to me, love, I've wander'd far,
"Tis past the promised hour : Come to me, love, the twilight star
Shall guide thee to my bower.
TO 'Tis night, the spectred hour is nigh! Pensive I hear the moaning blast Passing, with sad sepulchral sigh, My lyre that hangs neglected by, And seems to mourn for pleasures past ! That lyre was once attuned for thee To many a lay of fond delight, When all thy days were given to me, And mine was every blissful night. How oft I've languish'd by thy side, And while my heart's luxuriant tide Ran in wild riot through my veins, I've waked such sweetly-maddening strains, As if by inspiration's fire My soul was blended with my lyre ! Oh! while in every fainting note We heard the soul of passion float While in thy blue dissolving glance, I've raptured read thy bosom's trance, I've sung and trembled, kiss'd and sung; Till, as we mingle breath with breath, Thy burning kisses parch my tongue, My hands drop listless on the lyre, And, murmuring like a swan in death, Upon thy bosom I expire ! Yes, I indeed remember well Those hours of pleasure past and o er Why have I lived their sweets to tell ? To tell, but never feel them more! I should have died, have sweetly died, In one of those impassion'd dreams, When languid, silent on thy breast, Drinking thine eyes' delicious beams, My soul has flutter'd from its nest, And on thy lip just parting sigh'd ! Oh! dying thus a death of love, To heaven how dearly should I go! He well might hope for joys above, Who had begun them here below!
Shall steal our pleasures too,
And half our joys renew.
Shall feel the wintry air,
When thou alone wert fair!
Our joys shall always last;
And memory gild the past.
I drink to love and thee: Thou never canst decay in soul,
Thou'lt still be young for me. And, as thy lips the tear-drop chase
Which on my cheek they find,
Which sorrow leaves behind !
Our joys shall always last;
And memory gild the past !
When love shall lose its soul,
They mingle with my bowl!
Our loving life shall fleet;
The draught will still be sweet!
Our joys shall always last ;
And memory gild the past !
SONG. WHERE is the nymph, whose azure eye
Can shine through rapture's tear? The sun has sunk, the moon is high,
Ana vet she comes not here!
TO My fates had destined me to rove A long, long pilgrimage of love; And many an altar on my way Has lured my pious steps to stay; For, if the saint was young and fair, I turn'd and sung my vespers there.