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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!
And, oh! if airy shapes may steal
To mingle with a mortal frame,
Then, then, my love!—but drop the veil;
Hide, hide from Heaven the unholy flame.
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!

ANACREONTIQUE.

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!

ANACREONTIQUE.

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 flow'rs 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!

CHARITY.

"Neither do I condemn thee; go, and sin no more!"

O WOMAN! if by simple wile

St. John, chap. viii.

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!"

LOVE AND MARRIAGE.

Eque brevi verbo ferre perenne malum.

Secundus, eleg. vii.

STILL the question I must parry,
Still a wayward truant prove:
Where I love, I must not marry;
Where I marry, cannot love.
Were she fairest of creation,
With the least presuming mind:
Learned without affectation;
Not deceitful, yet refined;

Wise enough, but never rigid;
Gay, but not too lightly free;
Chaste as snow, and yet not frigid;
Warm, yet satisfied with me:
Were she all this ten times over,

All that Heaven to earth allows,
I should be too much her lover
Ever to become her spouse.
Love will never bear enslaving;
Summer garments suit him best;
Bliss itself is not worth having,
If we're by compulsion blest.

TO MISS

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!

NONSENSE.

GOOD reader! if you e'er have seen,
When Phoebus hastens to his pillow,
The mermaids, with their tresses green,
Dancing upon the western billow:
If you have seen, at twilight dim,
When the lone spirit's vesper hymn

Floats wild along the winding shore:
If you have seen, through mist of eve,
The fairy train their ringlets weave,
Glancing along the spangled green :—

If you have seen all this, and more,
God bless me! what a deal you've seen!"

TO JULIA.

ON HER BIRTH-DAY.

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!

TO ROSA.

A far conserva, e cumulo d'amanti.-Past. Fid.

AND are you then a thing of art,
Seducing all, and loving none;
And have I strove to gain a heart
Which every coxcomb thinks his own?
And do you, like the dotard's fire,
Which, powerless of enjoying any,
Feeds its abortive sick desire,

By trifling impotent with many?

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 damning tale to me,

But mingle mercy with your art.

I'd rather think you black as hell,
Than find you to be all divine,
And know that heart could love so well,

Yet know that heart would not be mine!

F

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!

TO MRS.

ON HER BEAUTIFUL TRANSLATION OF VOITURE'S KISS.

Mon ame sur mon lèvre étoit lors tout entière,
Pour savourer le miel qui sur la votre étoit;
Mais en me retirant, elle resta derrière,

Tante de ce doux plaisir l'amorce l'arrestoit.-Voil.

How heavenly was the poet's doom
To breathe his spirit through a kiss;
And lose within so sweet a tomb

The trembling messenger of bliss!
And, ah! his soul return'd to feel
That it again could ravish'd be ;
For in the kiss that thou didst steal,
His life and soul have fled to thee!

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 listening to the spheres above!

When, tired of life and misery,

I wish to sigh my latest breath,

O 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'lt 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?

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