« ПретходнаНастави »
ON THE DEATH OF A LADY. Sweet spirit ! if thy airy sleep
Nor sees my tears, nor hears my sighs, Oh! I will weep, in luxury weep,
Till the last heart's-drop fills mine eyes.
And mingles in our misery;
Thou shalt not hear one sigh from me!
But sullen clouds the day deform: Thou wert, indeed, that morning beam,
And death, alas! that sullen storm. Thou wert not formed for living here,
For thou wert kindred with the sky; Yet, yet we held thee all so dear
We thought thou wert not formed to die!
WRITTEN IN THE BLANK LEAF
OF A LADY'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK.
And puts his little bark to sea,
Consigns his simple heart to thee.
And sadly may the bark be tost ;
And then the wretched heart is lost !
At a meeting of rapture like this,
Have been paid by a moment of bliss?
For though the flower's decayed,
Its fragrance is not o'er;
The heart can bloom no more !
CHARITY. “Neither do I condemn thee ; go, and sin no more !"
St. John, chap. viii O WOMAN! if by simple wile
Thy soul has strayed from honour's track, 'Tis mercy only can beguile,
By gentle ways, the wanderer back. The stain that on thy virtue lies,
Washed 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.
Secundus, eleg, vis
Still a wayward truant prove :
Where I marry, cannot love.
With the least presuming mind :
Not deceitful, yet refined ;
Gay, but not too lightly free ;
Warm, yet satisfied with me:
All that Heaven to earth allows,
Ever to become her spouse.
Summer garments suit him best •
If we're by compulsion blest.
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,
And faints upon thy sighing lips :
That used to shade thy looks of light;
When other suns are sunk in night.
Has never ihrobbed with guilty sting ;
Where Slumber could repose his wing!"
Which glow like roses in the sun,
Except for what her eyes have done !
Does slumber from her eyelids rove?
Perhaps, O sylph ! perhaps 'uis love!”
When Phæbus hastens to his pillow,
Dancing upon the western billow :
Floats wild along the winding shore :
If you have seen all this, and more,
ON HER BIRTH-DAY.
Which to crown my beloved was given,
Yet the flowers were all gathered in heaven!
Of follies scribbled o'er and o'er,
And chilly was the midnight gloom,
Sweet maid ! it was her Lindor's tomb!
A warm tear gushed, the wintry air
Congealed it as it flowed away:
At morn it glittered in the ray!
Who saw this bright, this frozen gem
And hung it on her diadem !
TO JULIA, WEEPING.
If real woe disturbs your peace,
And I will bid your weeping cease.
But if with Fancy's visioned fears,
With dreams of woe, your bosom thrill, You look so lovely in your tears
That I must bid you drop them still !
Steal trembling from mine eye?
Or caught the murmured sigh?
Nor fixed on you alone ?
A heart so much your own?
Devoutly, warmly true;
One long, long thought of you.
If still my truth you'll try;
I'll bless your name, and die !
And did you not mark the paly form
And sung a ghostly dirge in the storm? Was it a wailing bird of the gloom,
Which shrieks on the house of woe all night? Or a shivering fiend that flew to a tomb,
To howl and to feed till the glance of light? 'Twas not the death-bird's cry from the wood,
Nor shivering fiend that hung in the blast ; "Twas the shade of Helderic- man of blood
It screams for the guilt of days that are past ! 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 washed by rains,
But neither can take the blood away!