 | Poems |  |
10
TO A LADY
On her departure for India.
1
See, as the Sun slow sinking in the west,Thro' clouds of Eve withdraws its beauty's ray,
See, as departing to its couch of rest,
Smile the faint glimmers of its glory's day!
2
As mildly setting, and its beams declining,Beneath yon veil it solemnly reposes,
While round its tints, in splendour'd hue still shining,
The gloom of Night, in misty darkness closes!
3
Thus Love, which Hope had cherish'd for awhile,Shone in the rapture of its heart's delight:
A beauty-bud that op'd to Morning's smile,
But fell oblivion'd in the shade of Night!
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4
Oh, best belov'd! soul of each fond affection—To thee I pour my bosom's purest burning!
I feel 'twas thus—yet pause sad recollection,—
Thus was our love—its joys no more returning!
5
Bright Star of Heav'n! my lonely wandering clearing—How fair, how beautiful, thy ray has shone,
How cloudless still, while dimly disappearing,
My griefs—my sorrows—will too wildly own!
6
Dearer than life, and friends that life endearing,Pulse of my heart, and each fond passion's swell,
To thee, my gloomy hours no longer cheering—
To thee I breathe, one last—one sad—farewell!
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7
Absorb'd in dimness, my sad aching eyeWould gaze, and weep—fond tear 'twere but in vain;
For thee this bosom's every wafted sigh
Would rise—would heave—but ah, relapse again!
8
Fate harshly murmurs, “farewell earthly peace,“From thee, from happiness, for ever riven!”
Hope kindly whispers, “at the soul's release,
“There is a sphere of—oh, there is a Heaven!”
9
There, my sweet girl, each soul to soul extending,We'll meet in bliss whose bloom will know no sorrow:
In scenes of joy, the purest passions blending—
In dreams, that wake not to a gloomy morrow!
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