The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson including many pieces never before published. In Three Volumes |
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TO THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. |
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 | The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson |  |
235
TO THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE.
The Nightingale with mourning lay,
Amid the twilight's purpling glow,
May sweetly hymn the loss of day,
While echo chants her melting woe;
But what can soothe the wounded breast,
And ev'ry aching sense beguile—
Ah! what can charm the soul to rest,
Like Devon's voice or Devon's smile?
Amid the twilight's purpling glow,
May sweetly hymn the loss of day,
While echo chants her melting woe;
But what can soothe the wounded breast,
And ev'ry aching sense beguile—
Ah! what can charm the soul to rest,
Like Devon's voice or Devon's smile?
The modest orb, with trembling light,
Beams thro' the soft and fresh'ning show'r,
And, stealing o'er the realm of night,
Gives lustre to the silent hour;
But what can cheer the fainting heart,
When gloomy horror frowns severe—
Ah! what can sympathy impart,
Like Devon's sigh or Devon's tear?
Beams thro' the soft and fresh'ning show'r,
And, stealing o'er the realm of night,
Gives lustre to the silent hour;
But what can cheer the fainting heart,
When gloomy horror frowns severe—
Ah! what can sympathy impart,
Like Devon's sigh or Devon's tear?
236
Tho' nature's proudest will combin'd
To give her form unequall'd grace;
And though the feelings of her mind
With fine expression mark her face;
Yet as the Casket charms the view
But till the treasur'd gem is seen,
Her mind demands the tribute due,
Which else her beauty's claim had been.
To give her form unequall'd grace;
And though the feelings of her mind
With fine expression mark her face;
Yet as the Casket charms the view
But till the treasur'd gem is seen,
Her mind demands the tribute due,
Which else her beauty's claim had been.
If there be magic in her tear,
And if her smile can bliss impart,
Her sigh is still to feeling dear,
And well her voice can soothe the heart;
Then where shall wond'ring fancy dwell,
Nor own exclusive pow'r the while;
O! say which holds the strongest spell,
Her voice, her sigh, her tear, or smile?
And if her smile can bliss impart,
Her sigh is still to feeling dear,
And well her voice can soothe the heart;
Then where shall wond'ring fancy dwell,
Nor own exclusive pow'r the while;
O! say which holds the strongest spell,
Her voice, her sigh, her tear, or smile?
| The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson | |