Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thanks! Ellen, to thy treach'rous wiles!
Once more, the air I freely draw:
Thanks to the Gods! who, pitying, saw
A wretched captive's pain.
And 'tis not fancy that beguiles
With fleeting dreams my tranquil heart;
Unfetter'd, now, I lightly start,
Indignant, from thy chain.

No longer glows my wonted flame.
I've found, so sure, the rest I sought,
That love can find no angry thought
Where hidden he may dwell.
No more, at mention of thy name,
I feel the burning blushes rise.
Now, when I meet thy brilliant eyes,
No throbs my bosom swell.

In mightly dreams that round me play
No more thy features I discern.
When morn arrives, no more return
My earliest thoughts to thee.
From thee afar full oft I stray;
Nor of thy absence e'er complain;
To thee return'd, I still remain
From all emotion free.

No more, while musing on thy charms,
In tender ecstacy I melt.
Not all the wrongs this heart has felt
One vengeful thought can raise.

No more I feel those fond alarms
That thrill'd me when my love drew near:
My rival's self, unmov'd, I hear
Exulting in thy praise.

Let cold disdain o'ershade thy brow,
Or sweet complacency adorn;
Indifferent, I behold thy scorn;
Unmov'd, I see thee smile.
Lost is the wonted empire now
That once those lips, those eyes possess'd,
Which knew so well to rule this breast,
And every sense beguile.

If gathering clouds my mind oppress,
Or laughing joys my soul uplift;
No longer are the joys thy gift;
Nor dost thou cause the gloom.
The varied charms that Nature dress
Without thee, now, I fondly view;
Nor can thy presence, now, renew
The dreary landscape's bloom.

Hence thou may'st know that I'm sincere;
Thou still art brilliant to my sight,
But not with pure celestial light,
Unparagon'd on earth.
To stain thy charms, some spots appear
That once, ah! let not truth offend,
Like mellowing shades, but seem'd to lend
Thy brilliancy more worth.

I blush this weakness to relate;
But, when I snapp'd the pois'nous dart;
Ah me! such anguish rent my heart,
Methought I'd perish too.
But who dare call the pangs too great,
That free from servitude the breast;
That lift a gen'rous soul oppres'd,
And all its strength renew?

Yon bird that in the treach'rous lime
His careless pinion lately dipt,
Of many a downy plume though stript,
Doth freedom still enjoy:

But soon his newgrown wing, sublime,
Its boldest flight again shall dare;
Well taught to shun the specious snare
That lures but to destroy.

These words I know thou'lt not believe,
That now disclaim thy wonted sway;
These frequent boasts, I hear thee say,
My thraldom but declare.
But, Ellen, didst thou ne'er perceive
That mortals taste no joy more sweet,
Than former perils to repeat
And muse on former care?

Thus, all the fury of the fight
The war-worn vet'ran loves to tell;
And, while proud thoughts his bosom swell,
Gives all his scars to view.
The slave restor'd to freedom's light
Tells o'er and o'er a captive's woe;
And, inly joy'd, he loves to show
The galling chain he drew.

100

In truth, I care not if I seem
Sincere or guileful to thine eye;
Mere selfishness to gratify
Is now my sole desire.
If, when I chance to be thy theme,
Thy bosom still remain at ease,
If what I speak offend or please,
I care not to inquire.

I from a false inconstant go,
And take a heart once truly thine;
Which should rejoice, or which repine,
'Tis not my part to say.
But, Ellen ne'er again shall know
A love like mine so fond, so true;
While false dissemblers rise to view,
The growth of every day.