The Harp of Erin Containing the Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Dermody. In Two Volumes |
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 | II. |
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VERSES,
Addressed to the Children of my Friend. |
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 | The Harp of Erin |  |
107
VERSES, Addressed to the Children of my Friend.
Infant buds of early beauty!
Sport suspend, to hear my strain;
Let a poet tell your duty,
Though his verse, perhaps, be vain.
Sport suspend, to hear my strain;
Let a poet tell your duty,
Though his verse, perhaps, be vain.
To his sad experience listen,
Little as you are, attend,
Let your eyes with pleasure glisten,
Trust the poet in the friend.
Little as you are, attend,
Let your eyes with pleasure glisten,
Trust the poet in the friend.
First to Him, o'er each soft feature
Who that rosy bloom has spread,
Breathe the pray'r of artless Nature,
By his gracious spirit led;
Who that rosy bloom has spread,
Breathe the pray'r of artless Nature,
By his gracious spirit led;
He shall angels send to charm you,
Angels than yourselves less fair,
They with turtle fondness warm you,
Shield you with celestial care:
Angels than yourselves less fair,
They with turtle fondness warm you,
Shield you with celestial care:
Female sweetness, kind discretion,
In your mother's smile discern;
Holy Friendship's high expression,
Honour,—from your father learn.
In your mother's smile discern;
Holy Friendship's high expression,
Honour,—from your father learn.
108
Be of false flow'ry pleasures fearful,
Where vulgar children heedless stray,
Not like the show'ry April, tearful,
Nor sullen, like the Winter's day.
Where vulgar children heedless stray,
Not like the show'ry April, tearful,
Nor sullen, like the Winter's day.
Never for foolish gewgaws squabble,
Let them not mar your rip'ning joys,
Though older heads, a pompous rabble!
Alas! too often fight for toys.
Let them not mar your rip'ning joys,
Though older heads, a pompous rabble!
Alas! too often fight for toys.
Soon, soon, will fly those sportive graces,
Ah! soon your guiltless pranks be o'er;
Sorrow will cloud those pretty faces
Where sorrow never sat before.
Ah! soon your guiltless pranks be o'er;
Sorrow will cloud those pretty faces
Where sorrow never sat before.
Quickly Time's rapid wing will cover
Your tiny span with envious shade;
Bess will be sighing for a lover,
And Fred pursue some scornful maid:
Your tiny span with envious shade;
Bess will be sighing for a lover,
And Fred pursue some scornful maid:
Then passions ficrce, with wild dominion,
Torment you on life's tragic stage,
Then will you miss the parent-pinion
Shelt'ring now your tender age.
Torment you on life's tragic stage,
Then will you miss the parent-pinion
Shelt'ring now your tender age.
Then, whatsoever chance betide you,
Whether fell Grief your bosom wrings,
Or Peace through bli ful regions guide you,
You'll own the truth your poet sings.
Whether fell Grief your bosom wrings,
Or Peace through bli ful regions guide you,
You'll own the truth your poet sings.
| The Harp of Erin | |