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"T is thus the world's obtrusive wrongs

Obscure with malice keen

Some timid heart, which only longs
To live and die unseen!

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,

"T is there I wish to sleep at rest!

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!

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!"

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!" 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,
You'd say,
while to his bosom prest,
He loves not half so well as I!

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 swell'd a moment there, Thus melts into eternity!

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.

"T is 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 ;

AN INVITATION TO SUPPER
TO MRS. -

MYSELF, dear Julia! and the Sun,
Have now two years of rambling run;
And he before his wheels has driven
The grand menagerie of heaven,
While I have met on earth, I swear,
As many brutes as he has there.
The only difference I can see
Betwixt the flaming god and me,
Is, that his ways are periodic,
And mine, I fear, are simply oddic.
But, dearest girl! 't is now a lapse
Of two short years, or less, perhaps,
Since you to me, and I to you,
Vow'd to be ever fondly true!-
Ah, Julia! those were pleasant times!
You loved me for my amorous rhymes;
And I loved you, because I thought
"T was so delicious to be taught

By such a charming guide as you,
With eyes of fire and lips of dew,
All I had often fancied o'er,
But never, never felt before:

The day flew by, and night was short
For half our blisses, half our sport!

I know not how we chang'd, or why,
Or if the first was you or I:

Yet so 't is now, we meet each other,
And I'm no more than Julia's brother;
While she's so like my prudent sister,

There's few would think how close I've kiss'd her.

But, Julia, let those matters pass!
If you will brim a sparkling glass
To vanish'd hours of true delight,
Come to me after dusk to-night.

I'll have no other guest to meet you,
But here alone I'll tete-a-tete you,
Over a little attic feast,

As full of cordial soul at least,
As those where Delia met Tibullus,
Or Lesbia wanton'd with Catullus.'

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.
Come, pr'ythee come, you'll find me here,
Like Horace, waiting for his dear.2
There shall not be to-night, on earth,
Two souls more elegant in mirth;
. And, though our hey-day passion's fled,
The spirit of the love that's dead
Shall hover wanton o'er our head;
Like souls that round the grave will fly,
In which their late possessors lie:
And who, my pretty Julia, knows,
But when our warm remembrance glows,
The ghost of Love may act anew,
What Love when living used to do!

AN ODE UPON MORNING.

TURN to me, love! the morning rays
Are glowing o'er thy languid charms;
Take one luxurious parting gaze,

While yet I linger in thine arms.
'Twas long before the noon of night
I stole into thy bosom, dear!
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,-
While all around were lull'd in night
1 Cœnam, non sine candida puella.
Cat. Carm. xiii.

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While even the planets seem'd to wink,-
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;
There, close that languid trembling eye,

And sweetly dream of all the past!

As soon as Night shall fix her seal
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
Which make sweet music all the night,
Unheard by drowsy mortal ears!

SONG.'

On! nothing in life can sadden us,

While we have wine and good humour in store With this, and a little of love to madden us,

285

Show me the fool that can labour for more!
Come, then, bid Ganymede fill every bowl for you,
Fill them up brimmers, and drink as I call:
I'm going to toast every nymph of my soul for you,
Ay, on my soul, I'm in love with them all!

Dear creatures! we can't live without them,
They 're all that is sweet and seducing to man!
Looking, sighing about and about them,
We dote on them, die for them, all that we can.
Here's Phillis !-whose innocent bosom
Is always agog for some novel desires;
To-day to get lovers, to-morrow to lose 'em,
Is all that the innocent Phillis requires.-
Here's to the gay little Jessy!--who simpers
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!
Dear creatures, etc.

A bumper to Fanny!-I know you will scorn her,
Because she's a prude, and her nose is so curl'd;
But if ever you chatted with Fan in a corner,

You'd say she's the best little girl in the world!-
Another to Lyddy!—still struggling with duty,

And asking her conscience still, "whether she should;"

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While her eyes, in the silent confession of beauty,
Say, "Only for something I certainly would."
Dear creatures, etc.

Fill for Chloe!-bewitchingly simple,

Who angles the heart without knowing her lure; Still wounding around with a blush or a dimple, Nor seeming to feel that she also could cure!

1 There are many spurious copies of this song in circula tion; and it is universally attributed to a gentleman who has no more right than the Editor of these Poems to any snare whatever in the composition.-E.

Here's pious Susan!-the saint, who alone, sir,
Could ever have made me religious outright:
For 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,
And I will range the world around,

To sigh one moment at her feet.

Oh! tell me where 's her sainted home,
What air receives her blessed sigh;
A pilgrimage of years I'll roam

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; To make one maid sincere and fair, Oh! 't is the utmost Heaven can do!

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,
And repose our hearts at last :
Oh! sure 't will then be sweet, love,
Calm to think on sorrows past.--
Farewell, Bessy!

Yes, my girl, the distant blessing
May n't be always sought in vain ;

And the moment of possessing-

Will 't not, love, repay our pain?-
Farewell, Bessy!

Still I feel my heart is breaking,
When I think I stray from thee,
Round the world that quiet seeking,
Which I fear is not for me!-
Farewell, Bessy!

Calm to peace thy lover's bosom-
Can it, dearest ! must it be?
Thou within an hour shalt lose him,
He for ever loses thee!
Farewell, Bessy!

SONG.

IF I swear by that eye, you'll allow Its look is so shifting and new,

1 All these songs were adapted to airs which Mr. Little composed, and sometimes sang, for his friends: this may account for the peculiarity of metre observable in many of them.-E.

That the oath I might take on it now
The very next glance would undo!
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!
And I'd make a new vow every hour,
To lose them so sweetly in air!
But clear up that heaven of your brow,
Nor fancy my faith is a feather;
On my heart I will pledge you my vow,
And they both must be broken together!

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!"

TO

REMEMBER him thou leavest behind, Whose heart is warmly bound to thee, Close as the tenderest links can bind A heart as warm as heart can be. 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 form'd.

But thou-ah! better had it been
If I had still in freedom roved,

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!

And, though ungenial ties have bound
Thy fate unto another's care,
That arm, which clasps thy bosom round,
Cannot confine the heart that's there.

No, no! that heart is only mine,

By ties all other ties above,

For I have wed it at a shrine

Where we have had no priest but Love!

Thy last fading glance will illumine the way, And a kiss be our passport to heaven!

SONG.

THINK on that look of hun id ray,
Which for a moment mix'd with mine,
And for that moment seem'd 19 say,
"I dare not, or I would be thine!"

Think, think on every smile and glance,
On all thou hast to charm and move;
And then forgive my bosom's trance,
And tell me 't is not sin to love!

Oh! not to love thee were the sin;

For sure, if Heaven's decrees be done, Thou, thou art destined still to win, As I was destined to be won!

SONG

A CAPTIVE thus to thee, my girl,
How sweetly shall I pass my age,
Contented, like the playful squirrel,

To wanton up and down my cage.

When Death shall envy joy like this,
And come to shade oar sunny weather,

Be our last sigh the sigh of bliss,
And both our souls exhale together!

SONG

FL from the world, O Bessy! to me,
Tou'lt never find any sincerer ;
I'll give up the world, O Bessy! for thee,
I can never meet any that's dearer!
Then tell me no more, with a tear and a sigh,
That our loves will be censured by many;
All, all have their follies, and who will deny
That ours is the sweetest of any?

When your lip has met mine, in abandonment sweet,
Have we felt as if virtue forbid it ?-

Have we felt as if Heaven denied them to meet ?-
No, rather 't was Heaven that did it!
So innocent, love! is the pleasure we sip,

So little of guilt is there in it,

That I wish all my errors were lodged on your lip,
And I'd kiss them away in a minute!

Then come to your lover, oh! fly to his shed,
From a world which I know thou despisest;
And slumber will hover as light on our bed,
As e'er on the couch of the wisest !

And when o'er our pillow the tempest is driven,
And thou, pretty innocent! fearest,

I'll tell thee, it is not the chiding of Heaven,
'Tis only our lullaby, dearest !

And, oh! when we lie on our death-bed, my love!
Looking back on the scene of our errors,
A sigh from my Bessy shall plead then above,
And Death be disarm'd of his terrors!
And each to the other embracing will say,
"Farewell! let us hope we're forgiven!"

THE CATALOGUE.

COME, tell me," says Rosa, as, kissing and kiss'd One day she reclined on my breast;

"Come, tell me the number, repeat me the list

Of the nymphs you have loved and caress'd."-
Oh, Rosa! 't was only my fancy that roved,
My heart at the moment was free;

But I'll tell thee, my girl, how many I've loved,
And the number shall finish with thee!

My tutor was Kitty; in infancy wild

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.

This lesson of dear and enrapturing lore

I have never forgot, I allow;

I have had it by rote very often before,
But never by heart until now!

Pretty Martha was next, and my soul was all flame,
But my head was so full of romance,

That I fancied her into some chivalry dame,

And I was her knight of the lance!
But Martha was not of this fanciful school,

And she laugh'd at her poor little knight;
While I thought her a goddess, she thought me a fool,
And I'll swear she was most in the right.

My soul was now calm, till, by Cloris's looks,
Again I was tempted to rove;

But Cloris, I found, was so learned in books,
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,
Who argue the point with a soul-telling eye,
And convince us at once with a kiss!

Oh! Susan was then all the world unto me,
But Susan was piously given;

And the worst of it was, we could never agree
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!"

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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.

A FRAGMENT.

ΤΟ

'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!

*

*

*

*

SONG.

WHEN Time, who steals our years away,
Shall steal our pleasures too,
The memory of the past will stay,
And half our joys renew.

Then, Chloe, when thy beauty's flower
Shall feel the wintry air,
Remembrance will recall the hour
When thou alone wert fair!

Then talk no more of future gloom;
Our joys shall always last;

For hope shall brighten days to come,
And memory gild the past.

Come, Chloe, fill the genial bowl,
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,
So hope shall steal away the trace
Which sorrow leaves behind!

Then fill the bowl-away with gloom!
Our joys shall always last;
For hope shall brighten days to come,
And memory gild the past!

But mark, at thought of future years
When love shall lose its soul,
My Chloe drops her timid tears,

They mingle with my bowl!

How like this bowl of wine, my fair,
Our loving life shall fleet;
Though tears may sometimes mingle there,
The draught will still be sweet!

Then fill the bowl-away with gloom!
Our joys shall always last;
For hope will brighten days to come,
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!

THE SHRINE.

ΤΟ

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.

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