ODE FROM ANACREON. To all that breathe the airs of heaven, She fenced his brow with wreathed horn. TO A BOY, WITH A WATCH. Is it not sweet, beloved youth, And is it not more sweet than this It must be so to thee, my youth; With this idea toil is lighter; This sweetens all the fruits of truth, The little gift we send thee, boy, May sometimes teach thy soul to ponder, Should ever tempt that soul to wander. Can ne'er be chain'd by man's endeavour; While Heaven and virtue bloom for ever! STANZAS. A BEAM of tranquillity smiled in the west, The storms of the morning pursued us no more, And the wave, while it welcomed the moment of rest, Still heaved, as remembering ills that were o'er! Serenely my heart took the hue of the hour, Its passions were sleeping, were mute as the dead, And the spirit becalm'd but remember'd their power, As the billow the force of the gale that was fled! I thought of the days when to pleasure alone My heart ever granted a wish or a sigh; When the saddest emotion my bosom had known Was pity for those who were wiser than I! I felt how the pure intellectual fire In luxury loses its heavenly ray; How soon, in the lavishing cup of desire, And I prayed of that Spirit who lighted the flame, The thought was ecstatic! I felt as if Heaven Which morning had clouded was clouded no more: "Oh! thus," I exclaim'd, "can a heavenly eye Shed light on the soul that was darken'd before!" GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE. Go where glory waits thee, But when friends are nearest, When at eve thou rovest Oh! then remember me. Oft as summer closes, Once so loved by thee, When, around thee dying, OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. OH! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls. AS A BEAM O'ER THE FACE OF THE WATERS MAY GLOW. As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow, While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, So the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while. One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes, To which life nothing darker or brighter can bring, For which joy has no balm, and affliction no sting! Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay, Like a dead, leafless branch in the summer's bright ray; The beams of the warm sun play round it in vain, It may smile in his light, but it blooms not again! THE MEETING OF THE WATERS. THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; Oh! the last ray of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene "Twas that friends the beloved of my bosom were near, Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear, And who felt how the best charms of nature improve, When we see them reflected from looks that we love. Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best, Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease, And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace. |