TO A LADY. ON HER SINGING. THY song has taught my heart to feel Those soothing thoughts of heavenly love, Which o'er the sainted spirits steal When list'ning to the spheres above! When, tired of life and misery, I wish to sigh my latest breath, Oh, Emma! I will fly to thee, And thou shalt sing me into death! And if along thy lip and cheek That smile of heavenly softness play, Which, ah! forgive a mind that 's weak,So oft has stolen my mind away; Thou 'It seem an angel of the sky, That comes to charm me into bliss: I'll gaze and die-who would not die, If death were half so sweet as this? A DREAM. I THOUGHT this heart consuming lay I thought he stole thy heart away, I saw thy heart begin to melt, WRITTEN IN A COMMON-PLACE BOOK, CALLED THE BOOK OF FOLLIES;» In which every one that opened it should contribute something. TO THE BOOK OF FOLLIES. THIS tribute 's from a wretched elf, Who hails thee emblem of himself! The book of life, which I have traced, Has been, like thee, a motley waste Of follies scribbled o'er and o'er, One folly bringing hundreds more. Some have indeed been writ so neat, In characters so fair, so sweet, That those who judge not too severely Have said they loved such follies dearly! Yet still, O book! the allusion stands; For these were penn'd by female hands; The rest,-alas! I own the truth,Have all been scribbled so uncouth, That prudence, with a withering look, Disdainful flings away the book. Like thine, its pages here and there Have oft been stain'd with blots of care; And sometimes hours of peace, I own, Upon some fairer leaves have shown, White as the snowings of that Heaven By which those hours of peace were given. T was not the death-bird's cry from the wood, See how the red, red lightning strays, And scares the gliding ghosts of the heath! Now on the leafless yew it plays, Where hangs the shield of this son of death! That shield is blushing with murderous stains; Long has it hung from the cold yew's spray; It is blown by storms and wash'd by rains, But neither can take the blood away! Oft by that yew, on the blasted field, Demons dance to the red moon's light; While the damp boughs creak, and the swinging shield Sings to the raving spirit of night! TO MRS YES, Heaven can witness how I strove My soul, in rapture's warm confusion, E'en then some purer thoughts would steal And at the moment-oh! e'en then That we might mingle by the breath In all of love's delicious death; At night, which was my hour of calm, He should have stay'd, have linger'd here, To calm his Julia's every woe; He should have chased each bitter tear, And not have caused those tears to flow. We saw his youthful soul expand We saw his gradual opening mind Such was the youth we loved so well, Such were the hopes that fate denied— We loved, but, ah! we could not tell How deep, how dearly, till he died! Close as the fondest links could strain, Twined with my very heart he grew; And by that fate which breaks the chain, The heart is almost broken too! But you told me that passion a moment amused, And still I entreated, and still you denied, Till I almost was made to believe you sincere ; Though I found that, in bidding me leave you, you sigh'd, And when you repulsed me, 't was done with a tear. In vain did I whisper, «There's nobody nigh;» In vain with the tremors of passion implore; Your excuse was a kiss, and a tear your reply I acknowledged them both, and I ask'd for no more. Was I right?-oh! I cannot believe I was wrong. By Heaven! I would rather for ever forswear The Elysium that dwells on a beautiful breast, Than alarm for a moment the peace that is there, Or banish the dove from so hallow'd a nest! A NIGHT THOUGHT. How oft a cloud, with envious veil, Obscures yon bashful light, Which seems so modestly to steal Along the waste of night! "T is thus the world's obtrusive wrongs Obscure with malice keen Some timid heart, which only longs ELEGIAC STANZAS Sic juvat perire. WHEN 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, 'Tis there I wish to sleep at rest! Oh! let not tears embalin my tomb, None but the dews by twilight given! Oh! let not sighs disturb the gloom, None but the whispering winds of Heaven! 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!»> ΤΟ WITH all my soul, then, let us part, Since both are anxious to be free; And I will send you home your heart, 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. 'Tis not that I expect to find A more devoted, fond, and true one, With rosier cheek or sweeter mindEnough for me that she's a new one. Thus let us leave the bower of love, Where we have loiter'd long in bliss; And you may down that path-way rove, While I shall take my way through this. Our hearts have suffer'd little harm 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 check,» 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!» 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, A REFLECTION AT SEA. SEE how, beneath the moonbeam's smile, Thus man, the sport of bliss and care, AN INVITATION TO SUPPER. MYSELF, dear Julia! and the Sun, The day flew by, and night was short I know not how we changed, or why, Yet so 't is now, we meet each other, There's few would think how close I've kiss'd her. But, Julia, let those matters pass! To vanish'd hours of true delight, As full of cordial soul at least, As those where Delia met Tibullus, I'll sing you many a roguish sonnet About it, at it, and upon it: And songs address'd, as if I loved, To all the girls with whom I've roved. 1 Coenam, non sine candida puella. CAT. Carm. xii. Come, pr'ythee come, you 'll find me here, AN ODE UPON MORNING. T was long before the noon of night And now the glance of dawning light Has found me still in dalliance here. Turn to me, love! the trembling gleams Of morn along thy white neck stray; Away, away, you envious beams, I'll chase you with my lips away! Oh! is it not divine to think,— The heart, that little world of ours, Kiss me once more, and then I fly, As soon as Night shall fix her seal Our joys shall take their stolen flight, SONG.2 On! nothing in life can sadden us, While we have wine and good humour in store; puellam Ad mediam noctem expecto. HOR. lib. i. sat. 5. There are many spurious copies of this song in circulation; and it is universally attributed to a gentleman who has no more right than the Editor of these Poems to any share whatever in the composi Lion.-E |