 | Lyrical and other poems |  |
MEMORY'S PAGE,
Written for a Lady's Scrap-Book.
It is proud, when the hopes of a nation
Hang lifeless, or lost, upon one—
When, tho' more exalted the station,
Its perils are sought for by none;
To stretch forth the hand of protection,
And quell the wild storm in its rage;
But ah! far more proud the reflection,
That we live upon memory's page!
Hang lifeless, or lost, upon one—
When, tho' more exalted the station,
Its perils are sought for by none;
To stretch forth the hand of protection,
And quell the wild storm in its rage;
But ah! far more proud the reflection,
That we live upon memory's page!
Oh! what are the joys of ambition?
Can the pomp that a fortune supplies,
Repay for the servile submission
We must use in our efforts to rise?
Tho' sweet to receive the oblation,
Our pomp may exact from an age,
Yet ah! far more sweet is the station
Of remembrance, on memory's page!
Can the pomp that a fortune supplies,
Repay for the servile submission
We must use in our efforts to rise?
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Our pomp may exact from an age,
Yet ah! far more sweet is the station
Of remembrance, on memory's page!
Thus, tracing these lines shall reflection
Pourtray, (when the dark wing of Time,
Shall sever each present connexion,
By the influence of fortune or crime)
In colours still bright and undying,
Tho' the venom of party may rage,
That heart, which tho' far from thee flying,
Still lives on thy memory's page!
Pourtray, (when the dark wing of Time,
Shall sever each present connexion,
By the influence of fortune or crime)
In colours still bright and undying,
Tho' the venom of party may rage,
That heart, which tho' far from thee flying,
Still lives on thy memory's page!
And happy is he, tho' forsaken,
By the visions of fortune or fame,
Who from memory's young bosom can waken
One remembrance, to hallow his name!
He may roam 'neath a wandering planet,
With sorrows no balm can assuage,
But his life, and the hopes that began it,
Still live upon memory's page!
By the visions of fortune or fame,
Who from memory's young bosom can waken
One remembrance, to hallow his name!
He may roam 'neath a wandering planet,
With sorrows no balm can assuage,
But his life, and the hopes that began it,
Still live upon memory's page!
| Lyrical and other poems | |