 | Poems |  |
REMINISCENCE.
Full many a heart with ardour beat,
Full many a gem shone pure and bright,
When love soared on hope's pinions fleet,
And brightly beamed the cresset light
To gild the path, that led to fame,
And blazon worth in glory's pride—
And fancy saw youth's magic name
Exalted, ne'er to be belied.
Full many a gem shone pure and bright,
When love soared on hope's pinions fleet,
And brightly beamed the cresset light
To gild the path, that led to fame,
And blazon worth in glory's pride—
And fancy saw youth's magic name
Exalted, ne'er to be belied.
Exulting, like the fleet gazelle,
Gay, as the lark in vernal skies,
Bright, as the blushing asphodel,
Pure, as the moonbeam's placid dies,
Rich, as ambrosia spread by love,
Sweet, as the nectar Hybla yields,
Visions of honour soar above,
And paint around elysian fields.
Gay, as the lark in vernal skies,
Bright, as the blushing asphodel,
Pure, as the moonbeam's placid dies,
Rich, as ambrosia spread by love,
Sweet, as the nectar Hybla yields,
Visions of honour soar above,
And paint around elysian fields.
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We live by fancy—life's a dream—
The luring shadow of despair,
And love is but an idle theme—
As cataracts their channels wear,
Our pleasures wither—wane—and die;
The mien, that beamed with attic grace,
The soul, that fired life's ecstasy,
Kindle no more in glory's race.
The luring shadow of despair,
And love is but an idle theme—
As cataracts their channels wear,
Our pleasures wither—wane—and die;
The mien, that beamed with attic grace,
The soul, that fired life's ecstasy,
Kindle no more in glory's race.
We sought the loved and dear caress,
And panted for the same—same gaol,
In fond affection we did press,
And burned the high, congenial soul;
Youth and its pleasures now have past—
And where are all my compeers—where?
Their path is one wide, lonely waste,
Their sunbeams waned in dark despair.
And panted for the same—same gaol,
In fond affection we did press,
And burned the high, congenial soul;
Youth and its pleasures now have past—
And where are all my compeers—where?
Their path is one wide, lonely waste,
Their sunbeams waned in dark despair.
The cypress, yew, and willow bend
Their weeping foliage o'er the tomb,
The mournful dirge, and pæan blend
Their varied notes amid the gloom;
The undulating streamlet laves
The bowering arbour, where they sleep
While the unheeding tempest raves,
And flame-girt billows fiercely sweep.
Their weeping foliage o'er the tomb,
The mournful dirge, and pæan blend
Their varied notes amid the gloom;
The undulating streamlet laves
The bowering arbour, where they sleep
While the unheeding tempest raves,
And flame-girt billows fiercely sweep.
And O! I love that tufted grove,
And voiceless, solemn, solitude,
Where silence fosters heavenly love,
And lone peace crowns youth's pensive mood,
Far more than pompous pageantry,
Or airy, flaunting, heartless mirth,—
Melancholy! they are to thee
The fairy forms of phantom birth.
And voiceless, solemn, solitude,
Where silence fosters heavenly love,
And lone peace crowns youth's pensive mood,
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Or airy, flaunting, heartless mirth,—
Melancholy! they are to thee
The fairy forms of phantom birth.
O sinful world! allied to heaven,
Where genius bright neglected dies,
Where worth's a bane, and mind is riven,
And blasphemy assaults the skies;
Where high-born virtue cannot charm,
And purity receives a blot,
Where malice stalks in fell alarm—
O foul ingrate! I love thee not.
Where genius bright neglected dies,
Where worth's a bane, and mind is riven,
And blasphemy assaults the skies;
Where high-born virtue cannot charm,
And purity receives a blot,
Where malice stalks in fell alarm—
O foul ingrate! I love thee not.
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