Poems By Mr. Polwhele. In three volumes |
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ON A VISIT TO POLWHELE NEAR TRURO, WITH HIS
CHILDREN, A SHORT TIME AFTER HIS FIRST WIFE'S DEATH. |
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ON A VISIT TO POLWHELE NEAR TRURO, WITH HIS CHILDREN, A SHORT TIME AFTER HIS FIRST WIFE'S DEATH.
1793.
Ah! when so late I press'd this mossy sward
In strains of hope I breath'd the melting lay!—
For still the flatterer Hope vouchsaf'd a ray.—
“If but a few short years kind Heaven award,
“Here, here, my offspring may I duteous guard,
“And guide them in the dark and doubtful way;
“As Laura's heartfelt smile shall bid me brave
“Each threat'ning ill, and every woe repay.
“Then, as these arching shades around me wave,
“May I sink down, in quiet, to the grave!”—
Such was my strain.—But ah! my children, say,
Where, where is fled—where vanisht Laura's smile?
Alas! devoid of sorrow, as of guile,
Ye little heed my tears, along the greensod, gay.”
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