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Judith, Esther, and other poems

Brooks, Maria Gowen (1794 or 5-1845)

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INTRODUCTION.
 
DEDICATION.
 
JUDITH.
 
ESTHER.
 
TO ONE, who had taken laudanum to enliven himself.
 
HYMN.
 
MONODY on --- --- lately killed in a duel.
 
TO --- ---
 
ADOLPHUS.
 
STANZAS.
 
Song of an Indian Mother.
 
TO Dr. --- ---,
 
On hearing the praises of Charlotte, the fair departed daughter of Philenia.
 
Written after passing an evening with E. W. R. A*******, Esq. who has the finest person I ever saw.
 
SONG.
 
THE BUTTERFLY.
 
SONG.
 
SONNET.
 
MORNING HYMN.
 
On visiting, after an interval of nine years, the beautiful beach which skirts the village of Chelsea.
 
STANZAS.
 
STANZAS.
 
TO --- ---.
 
TO --- ---.
 
TO Mrs. --- ---, my beloved and venerated friend.
 
STANZAS.
 
TRUE POLITENESS.
 
STANZAS.
 
BALLAD.
 
ELEGY.
 
TO ---
 
Written in the pocket-book of Mrs. --- the evening before her departure.
 
To Mrs. ---, my beloved and venerated friend.
 
STANZAS.
 
From the French of C. A. Demoustier.
 
TO ---
 
The subject of the following is poor, and condemned to toil for her support; but Nature certainly meant otherwise: seldom, in any station, are seen such beauty and feeling.
 
THE SQUIRREL.
 
Written on the margin of the little river St. Charles.
 
“'TIS MIDNIGHT.”
 
ROSETTE.
 
[SONG. The sad sable robe evermore shall adorn me]
 
[SONG. I wish that all my heart has told]
 
[SONG. I have no need to ask thee why]
 
[SONG. How bright those eyes of deepest blue]
 
[SONG. My own Maria! dearest maid]
 
[SONG. 'Tis in vain thy hand hath crowned me]
 
[SONG. When thou see'st the river brighten]
 
TO Mrs. --- ---.
 
CUPID THE RUNAWAY.
 
PARTING STANZAS.
 
TO H. C.
 
A LETTER.
 
To --- --- enclosing a lock of hair.
 
TO --- ---.
 
STANZAS.
 
ERROL'S DREAM.
 
On hearing of the death of a beautiful child.
 
HYMN.

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93

[SONG. 'Tis in vain thy hand hath crowned me]

'Tis in vain thy hand hath crowned me
On my brow the chaplet dies,
And the flowers that breathe around me
Wither in my feverish sighs.
Oh! this red and blending whiteness
Mock in vain thy rosy wreath,
And my eyes retain their brightness,
But to light the bed of death.
Thou, at last hast vainly hasted
All thy soothing comes too late;
And the bitter cup I've tasted
Bids me smile upon my fate.
Oh! 'tis bliss to see thee near me
But I've wished and wept too long;
Thou hast only come to hear me
Breathe my latest earthly song.
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