Epistles from Bath Or, Q.'s Letters to His Yorkshire Relations; And Miscellaneous Poems. By Q. In The Corner [i.e. N. T. H. Bayly] |
 |
 |
|
Miscellaneous Poems.
|
 | Epistles from Bath |  |
41
Miscellaneous Poems.
THE MUSE OF SORROW.
I
Mourn , England, mourn! thy joy is passed away,Charlotte, the idol of thy hopes, is gone;
Whose virtues promised, on some future day,
To be the pride and splendour of thy throne:
The prospect of her greatness e'en outshone
The golden annals of Eliza's fame;
Her form, her mind, her manners were thine own;
A loyal People's love endeared her claim,
And every English heart exulted in her name.
51
II
But yesterday! with what delight we tracedThe future honors of her high career;
Young, beautiful, and mighty—she was placed
Apparently above the storms severe
That frown upon mankind; the warrior's spear
Was twined with olive, and the welcome strain
Of Peace and Victory resounded here:
Alas! we hoped these blessings might sustain
Through many happy years her bright, auspicious reign.
III
All that the valour of our arms has doneTo calmer moments seemed to smooth her way,
And every battle British Chiefs have won
Appeared prophetic of her tranquil sway;
This was our consolation in the day
Of darkness and of peril;—this the light,
Which, even in the midst of war's array,
Oft cheered our drooping spirits with the sight
Of joys in store for her, and laurels ever bright.
52
IV
Prosperity and peace returned again,The reign of Tyranny was overthrown,
While discontented factions strove in vain
To shade the lustre of her Father's crown:
Happy was England then! no awful frown
Forbad her ardent spirit to rejoice;
And, 'midst the martial triumphs of renown,
Were heard the nuptial song, the festive voice,
When noble Charlotte claimed the Husband of her choice.
V
To her high station and her princely birthThe Nation's homage and respect were due;
But private virtue and domestic worth
Obtained a tribute of affection too;
Those of a humbler sphere in her might view
A bright example—her delight had been
In calm serenity—but Fancy drew
Time's shadowy veil aside, and she was seen
By Hope's expectant eye Old England's future Queen.
53
VI
It was our Prayer, that when our honored guideHereafter should be lost, we might bestow
On her our love and duty, and with pride
Behold the diadem adorn her brow;
It was our Hope to have beheld her now
A happy Mother; every heart was gay,
And all combined their loyalty to shew;
The voice of revelry, the sportive lay
Echoed on every side in honor of the day.
VII
But when that day arrived, which seemed adornedWith all our hopes could paint, when joy was near,
And young and old with one fond impulse turned
To hail the Royal Infant, and to hear
Congratulations breathed; their short career
Of triumph was o'erthrown; affliction came,
By disappointment rendered more severe;
Forgotten was their hope, their pride, their fame,
They mourned their Charlotte's Death, and sorrowed o'er her name.
54
VIII
Ill-fated Mother! from life's fairest scene,In health and splendour prematurely torn;
To-day how joyous England would have been
Hadst thou been spared, hereafter to have worn
Her brilliant Crown! But though with tears we mourn
Thy early death, yet HE who gave the blow
Has also taught us how it may be borne;
HE brings us consolation, for we know
That Thou art far removed from every earthly woe.
55
TO THE MEMORY OF LAURA.
How vain are our visions, how transient our joys,
The bright beam of happiness soon disappears;
And the arrow of fate in a moment destroys
The fabric that Hope has been building for years:
The bright beam of happiness soon disappears;
And the arrow of fate in a moment destroys
The fabric that Hope has been building for years:
The place of my birth can no longer enchant,
Its former attractions seem withered to me;
I find a sad relic in every plant,
And a trace of my Laura in every tree.
Its former attractions seem withered to me;
I find a sad relic in every plant,
And a trace of my Laura in every tree.
Its jessamine bowers the spot may unfold,
And roses as lovely may cluster the stem;
It is brilliant and bright as a casket of gold,—
The casket remains—but, oh! where is the gem?
And roses as lovely may cluster the stem;
It is brilliant and bright as a casket of gold,—
The casket remains—but, oh! where is the gem?
56
Each favorite object distinctly I trace,
But the spell that endeared them I cannot recall;
'Twas the form of my Laura enlivened the place,
And she was the star that illumined it all.
But the spell that endeared them I cannot recall;
'Twas the form of my Laura enlivened the place,
And she was the star that illumined it all.
For ever I go, and relinquish the scene,
Where often in happier moments we met;
Yet still I bear with me such traces within
Of her charms and her goodness—I cannot forget.
Where often in happier moments we met;
Yet still I bear with me such traces within
Of her charms and her goodness—I cannot forget.
'Tis true I may gaze on the groves she has seen,
I may gather the flowrets she used to prefer;
I may walk in the path where her footsteps have been—
But I need no such ties to remind me of her.
I may gather the flowrets she used to prefer;
I may walk in the path where her footsteps have been—
But I need no such ties to remind me of her.
The heart is the only true record of love,
Where those who were dear to us live to the last;
Her form will be with me wherever I rove,
A mournful memento of days that are past.
Where those who were dear to us live to the last;
Her form will be with me wherever I rove,
A mournful memento of days that are past.
The dark wave of Time in its progress removes
Our long-cherished trifles from memory's list;
But fondly we cling to our earliest loves,
When those that endeared them no longer exist.
Our long-cherished trifles from memory's list;
But fondly we cling to our earliest loves,
When those that endeared them no longer exist.
57
LOVE.
Oh! Love is born in youthful days,
When pleasure sheds her purest rays;
And love endures to latest years,
To sooth our woes—to dry our tears:
It cannot lengthen early bliss,
Or cause times fleet career to stop,
But offers age much more than this—
Its social joy—its firmest prop.
When pleasure sheds her purest rays;
And love endures to latest years,
To sooth our woes—to dry our tears:
It cannot lengthen early bliss,
Or cause times fleet career to stop,
But offers age much more than this—
Its social joy—its firmest prop.
It cannot join the ties that sever,
Or make gay moments last for ever,
But if Love's real spark remain,
Moments as gay may come again:
It cannot freshen autumn leaves,
Or breathe new life on vigour flown;
And ah! why should it—when it gives
To age a sunshine of its own.
Or make gay moments last for ever,
But if Love's real spark remain,
Moments as gay may come again:
It cannot freshen autumn leaves,
Or breathe new life on vigour flown;
And ah! why should it—when it gives
To age a sunshine of its own.
62
But oft when angry-thoughts divide
Hearts which affection once had tied,
We say that love is ever found
A stormy sea where rocks abound;
Yes there are storms that overwhelm
The fickle bark which folly guides,
But when true Love is at the helm,
Anger's short tempest soon subsides.
Hearts which affection once had tied,
We say that love is ever found
A stormy sea where rocks abound;
Yes there are storms that overwhelm
The fickle bark which folly guides,
But when true Love is at the helm,
Anger's short tempest soon subsides.
67
TO A LADY, FROM WHOM THE AUTHOR HAD RECEIVED A CASE OF RAZORS.
Dear Sarah! if my verse could boast
As high a polish as your token,
No smooth expression should be lost,
No courtly phrase be left unspoken.
As high a polish as your token,
No smooth expression should be lost,
No courtly phrase be left unspoken.
And if my wit could e'er attain
As keen an edge as these display,
My Muse should give one brilliant strain,
Your brilliant present to repay.
As keen an edge as these display,
My Muse should give one brilliant strain,
Your brilliant present to repay.
But though my verse is far less keen,
When tempered with my utmost skill:
Receive my thanks, however mean,
And for the deed accept the will.
When tempered with my utmost skill:
Receive my thanks, however mean,
And for the deed accept the will.
And oh! if thou wert prone to range,
(And female friendships often shift)
Believe me, I should feel the change
More cutting—even than your gift.
(And female friendships often shift)
Believe me, I should feel the change
More cutting—even than your gift.
70
THE LOVER'S SONG.
What will not lovers undertake,
In every clime, for woman's sake?
What daring deed has ever proved
Too bold for him that truly loved?
Though danger should his steps retard,
Her chosen cause he'd still prefer;
And think her smiles a bright reward
For all that he endured for her.
My tale is true,
And I would do
As much, or more for I know who.
In every clime, for woman's sake?
What daring deed has ever proved
Too bold for him that truly loved?
Though danger should his steps retard,
Her chosen cause he'd still prefer;
And think her smiles a bright reward
For all that he endured for her.
My tale is true,
And I would do
As much, or more for I know who.
71
Orpheus such constancy could boast,
That when Eurydice was lost,
He left the world—and breathed a strain
Which almost lured her back again;
And Pyramus, who (sages say)
Whispered soft things in Thisbe's ear,
Through stone partitions found a way,
To prove that she alone was dear.
My tale is true,
And I would do
As much, or more for I know who.
That when Eurydice was lost,
He left the world—and breathed a strain
Which almost lured her back again;
And Pyramus, who (sages say)
Whispered soft things in Thisbe's ear,
Through stone partitions found a way,
To prove that she alone was dear.
My tale is true,
And I would do
As much, or more for I know who.
Leander braved the stormy flood,
To seek his Hero's solitude;
Who nightly raised her torch, to guide
Her faithful lover o'er the tide:
He came at the appointed hour,
Though waves were rough and stars were dim;
For oh! the light on Sestos' tower
Appeared a brilliant star to him.
My tale is true,
And I would do
As much, or more for I know who.
To seek his Hero's solitude;
Who nightly raised her torch, to guide
Her faithful lover o'er the tide:
He came at the appointed hour,
Though waves were rough and stars were dim;
For oh! the light on Sestos' tower
Appeared a brilliant star to him.
My tale is true,
And I would do
As much, or more for I know who.
FINIS.
| Epistles from Bath | |