FRAGMENT XXXVI.
THE SWAN QUILL.
To ------.
I
The quill that now traces the thought of my heart,
And speeds the soft wand'rer to thine,
From the pinion of love, by thy hand's erring dart,
Was sever'd, and then became mine.
II
“Preserve it,” thou saidst, “for it shatter'd the breast
Which once glow'd with love's purest fire;
And it fell as the mistress and mother caress'd
In love's transport, the offspring and sire.”
III
Then thou toldst me the tale, and I wept o'er the quill,
Where already thy tear had been shed;
“And oh!” I exclaim'd, “may its point ever thrill
O'er the nerve where soft pity is bred.
VI
“From that point may the fanciful sorrow still flow
Which, though fancied, ne'er misses the heart;
Be it sacred alone to the delicate woe
Which genius and feeling impart.”
V
But little I dream'd the first trace it imprest
With a sorrow not fancied should flow,
And that, that real sorrow should spring from my heart,
And that thou shouldst awaken that woe.
VI
For they tell me, alone and unfriended thou'rt left
On the pillow of sickness to languish;
By absence, by fate, of the fond friend bereft
Who could feel for, and solace, thy anguish.
VII
May this quill then convey one fond truth to thy heart,
And its languid pulsation elate;
That still in each suff'ring that friend takes a part,
And shares, as she mourns for thy fate.
VIII
Then fancy thou viewest that tear of the soul
Which thy destiny draws to her eye,
And believe that no sigh from thy bosom e'er stole
But she gave thee as heart-felt a sigh.
IX
For sweet is the solace that lurks in the tear
Which flows from the eye that we love;
And what is the suff'ring, oh! what is the care
That sympathy cannot remove?
X
Oh! then speed thy return, and thy sweet cure receive,
Which affection and friendship present,
From her who by pity was taught to forgive,
And who feels, where she ought to resent.
