 | Psyche, with other poems |  |
217
Sonnets.
219
WRITTEN IN A COPY OF PSYCHE April, 1809.
WHICH HAD BEEN IN THE LIBRARY OF C. J. FOX.
Dear consecrated page! methinks in theeThe patriot's eye hath left eternal light,
Beaming o'er every line with influence bright
A grace unknown before, nor due to me:
And still delighted fancy loves to see
The flattering smile which prompt indulgence might
(Even while he read what lowliest Muse could write)
Have hung upon that lip, whose melody
Truth, sense, and liberty had called their own.
For strength of mind and energy of thought,
With all the loveliest weakness of the heart,
An union beautiful in him had shewn;
And yet where'er the eye of taste found aught
To praise, he loved the critic's gentlest part.
220
WRITTEN AT SCARBOROUGH.
August, 1799.
As musing pensive in my silent home
I hear far off the sullen ocean's roar,
Where the rude wave just sweeps the level shore,
Or bursts upon the rocks with whitening foam,
I think upon the scenes my life has known;
On days of sorrow, and some hours of joy;
Both which alike time could so soon destroy!
And now they seem a busy dream alone;
While on the earth exists no single trace
Of all that shook my agitated soul,
As on the beach new waves for ever roll
And fill their past forgotten brother's place:
But I, like the worn sand, exposed remain
To each new storm which frets the angry main.
I hear far off the sullen ocean's roar,
Where the rude wave just sweeps the level shore,
Or bursts upon the rocks with whitening foam,
I think upon the scenes my life has known;
On days of sorrow, and some hours of joy;
Both which alike time could so soon destroy!
And now they seem a busy dream alone;
While on the earth exists no single trace
Of all that shook my agitated soul,
As on the beach new waves for ever roll
And fill their past forgotten brother's place:
But I, like the worn sand, exposed remain
To each new storm which frets the angry main.
221
SONNET.
[When glowing Phœbus quits the weeping earth]
When glowing Phœbus quits the weeping earth,What splendid visions rise upon the sight!
Fancy, with transient charms and colours bright,
To changing forms in Heaven's gay scene gives birth:
But soon the melting beauties disappear,
And fade like those which in life's early bloom
Hope bade me prize; and the approaching gloom,
These tints of sadness, and these shades of fear,
Resemble most that melancholy hour
Which, with a silent and resistless power,
Shrouded my joy's bright beam in shadowy night:
Till Memory marks each scene which once shone gay;
As the dark plains, beneath the Moon's soft light,
Again revealed, reflect a mellowing ray.
222
WRITTEN IN AUTUMN.
O Autumn! how I love thy pensive air,Thy yellow garb, thy visage sad and dun!
When from the misty east the labouring Sun
Bursts through thy fogs, that gathering round him, dare
Obscure his beams, which, though enfeebled, dart
On the cold, dewy plains a lustre bright:
But chief, the sounds of thy reft woods delight;
Their deep, low murmurs to my soul impart
A solemn stillness, while they seem to speak
Of Spring, of Summer now for ever past,
Of drear, approaching Winter, and the blast
Which shall ere long their soothing quiet break:
Here, when for faded joys my heaving breast
Throbs with vain pangs, here will I love to rest.
223
SONNET.
[Poor, fond deluded heart! wilt thou again]
Poor, fond deluded heart! wilt thou againListen, enchanted, to the syren song
Of treacherous Pleasure? Ah, deceived too long,
Cease now at length to throb with wishes vain!
Ah, cease her paths bewildering to explore!
Betrayed so oft! yet recollect the woe
Which waits on disappointment; taught to know
By sad experience, wilt thou not give o'er
To rest, deluded, on the fickle wing
Which Fancy lends thee in her airy flight,
But to seduce thee to some giddy height,
And leave thee there a poor forsaken thing.
Hope warbles once again, Truth pleads in vain,
And my charmed soul sinks vanquished by her strain.
224
WRITTEN IN THE CHURCH-YARD AT MALVERN.
This seems a spot to pensive sorrow dear,Gloomy the shade which yields this ancient yew,
Sacred the seat of Death! soothed while I view
Thy hills, O Malvern, proudly rising near,
I bless the peaceful mound, the mouldering cross,
And every stone whose rudely sculptured form
Hath braved the rage of many a winter's storm.
Pleased with the melancholy scene, each loss
Once more I weep; and wish this grave were thine,
Poor, lost, lamented friend! that o'er thy clay
For once this last, sad tribute I might pay,
And, with my tears, to the cold tomb resign
Each hope of bliss, each vanity of life,
And all the passions agonizing strife.
225
SONNET.
[For me would Fancy now her chaplet twine]
For me would Fancy now her chaplet twineOf Hope's bright blossoms, and Joy's fairy flowers,
As she was wont to do in gayer hours;
Ill would it suit this brow, where many a line
Declares the spring-time of my life gone by,
And summer far advanced; what now remain
Of waning years, should own staid Wisdom's reign.
Shall my distempered heart still idly sigh
For those gay phantoms, chased by sober truth?
Those forms tumultuous which sick visions bring,
That lightly flitting on the transient wing
Disturbed the fevered slumbers of my youth?
Ah, no! my suffering soul at length restored,
Shall taste the calm repose so oft in vain implored.
226
SONNET.
[As one who late hath lost a friend adored]
As one who late hath lost a friend adored,Clings with sick pleasure to the faintest trace
Resemblance offers in another's face,
Or sadly gazing on that form deplored,
Would clasp the silent canvas to his breast:
So muse I on the good I have enjoyed,
The wretched victim of my hopes destroyed;
On images of peace I fondly rest,
Or in the page, where weeping fancy mourns,
I love to dwell upon each tender line,
And think the bliss once tasted still is mine;
While cheated memory to the past returns,
And, from the present leads my shivering heart
Back to those scenes from which it wept to part.
227
TO TIME.
Yes, gentle Time, thy gradual, healing handHath stolen from sorrow's grasp the envenomed dart;
Submitting to thy skill, my passive heart
Feels that no grief can thy soft power withstand;
And though my aching breast still heaves the sigh,
Though oft the tear swells silent in mine eye;
Yet the keen pang, the agony is gone;
Sorrow and I shall part; and these faint throes
Are but the remnant of severer woes:
As when the furious tempest is o'erblown,
And when the sky has wept its violence,
The opening heavens will oft let fall a shower,
The poor o'ercharged boughs still drops dispense,
And still the loaded streams in torrents pour.
228
SONNET.
[Ye dear associates of my gayer hours]
Ye dear associates of my gayer hours,Ah! whither are you gone? on what light wing
Is Fancy fled? Mute is the dulcet string
Of long-lost Hope? No more her magic powers
Scatter o'er my lorn path fallacious flowers,
As she was wont with glowing hand to fling
Loading with fragrance the soft gales of Spring,
While fondly pointing to fresh blooming bowers,
Now faded, with each dazzling view of bright,
Delusive pleasure; never more return,
Ye vain, ideal visions of delight!
For in your absence I have learned to mourn;
To bear the torch of Truth with steady sight,
And weave the cypress for my future urn.
229
SONNET.
[As nearer I approach that fatal day]
As nearer I approach that fatal dayWhich makes all mortal cares appear so light,
Time seems on swifter wing to speed his flight,
And Hope's fallacious visions fade away;
While to my fond desires, at length, I say,
Behold, how quickly melted from your sight
The promised objects you esteemed so bright,
When love was all your song, and life looked gay!
Now let us rest in peace! those hours are past,
And with them, all the agitating train
By which hope led the wandering cheated soul;
Wearied, she seeks repose, and owns at last
How sighs, and tears, and youth, were spent in vain,
While languishing she mourned in folly's sad control.
230
WRITTEN AT ROSSANA.
November 18, 1799.
Oh, my rash hand! what hast thou idly done?
Torn from its humble bank the last poor flower
That patient lingered to this wintery hour:
Expanding cheerly to the languid sun
It flourished yet, and yet it might have blown,
Had not thy sudden desolating power
Destroyed what many a storm and angry shower
Had pitying spared. The pride of summer gone,
Cherish what yet in faded life can bloom;
And if domestic love still sweetly smiles,
If sheltered by thy cot he yet beguiles
Thy winter's prospect of its dreary gloom,
Oh, from the spoiler's touch thy treasure screen,
To bask beneath Contentment's beam serene!
Torn from its humble bank the last poor flower
That patient lingered to this wintery hour:
Expanding cheerly to the languid sun
It flourished yet, and yet it might have blown,
Had not thy sudden desolating power
Destroyed what many a storm and angry shower
Had pitying spared. The pride of summer gone,
Cherish what yet in faded life can bloom;
And if domestic love still sweetly smiles,
If sheltered by thy cot he yet beguiles
Thy winter's prospect of its dreary gloom,
Oh, from the spoiler's touch thy treasure screen,
To bask beneath Contentment's beam serene!
231
WRITTEN AT ROSSANA.
Dear chesnut bower, I hail thy secret shade,Image of tranquil life! escaped yon throng,
Who weave the dance, and swell the choral song;
And all the summer's day have wanton played:
I bless thy kindly gloom in silence laid:
What though no prospects gay to thee belong;
Yet here I heed nor showers, nor sunbeams strong,
Which they, whose perfumed tresses roses braid,
Dispersing fear. Their sunny bank more bright,
And on their circled green more sweets abound,
Yet the rude blasts, which rend their vestments light,
O'er these dark boughs with harmless music sound,
And though no lively pleasures here are found,
Yet shall no sudden storms my calm retreat affright.
232
WRITTEN AT THE EAGLE'S NEST,
July 26, 1800.
KILLARNEY.
Here let us rest, while with meridan blaze
The sun rides glorious 'mid the cloudless sky,
While o'er the lake no cooling Zephyrs fly,
But on the liquid glass we dazzled gaze,
And fainting ask for shade: lo! where his nest
The bird of Jove has fixed: the lofty brow,
With arbutus and fragrant wild shrubs drest,
Impendent frowns, nor will approach allow:
Here the soft turf invites; here magic sounds
Celestially respondent shall enchant,
While Melody from yon steep wood rebounds
In thrilling cadence sweet. Sure, life can grant
No brighter hours than this; and memory oft
Shall paint this happiest scene with pencil soft.
The sun rides glorious 'mid the cloudless sky,
While o'er the lake no cooling Zephyrs fly,
But on the liquid glass we dazzled gaze,
And fainting ask for shade: lo! where his nest
The bird of Jove has fixed: the lofty brow,
With arbutus and fragrant wild shrubs drest,
Impendent frowns, nor will approach allow:
Here the soft turf invites; here magic sounds
Celestially respondent shall enchant,
While Melody from yon steep wood rebounds
In thrilling cadence sweet. Sure, life can grant
No brighter hours than this; and memory oft
Shall paint this happiest scene with pencil soft.
233
WRITTEN AT KILLARNEY.
July, 29 1800.
How soft the pause! the notes melodious cease,
Which from each feeling could an echo call;
Rest on your oars; that not a sound may fall
To interrupt the stillness of our peace:
The fanning west-wind breathes upon our cheeks
Yet glowing with the sun's departed beams.
Through the blue heavens the cloudless moon pours streams
Of pure resplendent light, in silver streaks
Reflected on the still, unruffled lake.
The Alpine hills in solemn silence frown,
While the dark woods night's deepest shades embrown.
And now once more that soothing strain awake!
Oh, ever to my heart, with magic power,
Shall those sweet sounds recal this rapturous hour!
234
ON LEAVING KILLARNEY.
August 5, 1800.
Farewel, sweet scenes! pensive once more I turn
Those pointed hills, and wood-fringed lakes to view
With fond regret; while in this last adieu
A silent tear those brilliant hours shall mourn
For ever past. So from the pleasant shore,
Borne with the struggling bark against the wind,
The trembling pennant fluttering looks behind
With vain reluctance! 'Mid those woods no more
For me the voice of pleasure shall resound,
Nor soft flutes warbling o'er the placid lake
Aërial music shall for me awake,
And wrap my charmed soul in peace profound!
Though lost to me, here still may Taste delight
To dwell, nor the rude axe the trembling Dryads fright!
Those pointed hills, and wood-fringed lakes to view
With fond regret; while in this last adieu
A silent tear those brilliant hours shall mourn
For ever past. So from the pleasant shore,
Borne with the struggling bark against the wind,
The trembling pennant fluttering looks behind
With vain reluctance! 'Mid those woods no more
For me the voice of pleasure shall resound,
Nor soft flutes warbling o'er the placid lake
Aërial music shall for me awake,
And wrap my charmed soul in peace profound!
Though lost to me, here still may Taste delight
To dwell, nor the rude axe the trembling Dryads fright!
235
TO DEATH.
O thou most terrible, most dreaded power,In whatsoever form thou meetest the eye!
Whether thou biddest thy sudden arrow fly
In the dread silence of the midnight hour;
Or whether, hovering o'er the lingering wretch
Thy sad cold javelin hangs suspended long,
While round the couch the weeping kindred throng
With hope and fear alternately on stretch;
Oh, say, for me what horrors are prepared?
Am I now doomed to meet thy fatal arm?
Or wilt thou first from life steal every charm,
And bear away each good my soul would guard?
That thus, deprived of all it loved, my heart
From life itself contentedly may part.
236
TO W. P. Esq. Avondale.
We wish for thee, dear friend! for summer eveUpon thy loveliest landscape never cast
Looks of more lingering sweetness than the last.
The slanting sun, reluctant to bereave
Thy woods of beauty, fondly seemed to leave
Smiles of the softest light, that slowly past
In bright succession o'er each charm thou hast
Thyself so oft admired. And we might grieve
Thine eye of taste should ever wander hence
O'er scenes less lovely than thine own; but here
Thou wilt return, and feel thy home more dear;
More dear the Muses' gentler influence,
When on the busy world, with wisdom's smile,
And heart uninjured, thou hast gazed awhile.
237
ADDRESSED TO MY BROTHER.
1805.
Brother beloved! if health shall smile again
Upon this wasted form and fevered cheek;
If e'er returning vigour bids these weak
And languid limbs their gladsome strength regain;
Well may thy brow the placid glow retain
Of sweet content, and thy pleased eye may speak
Thy conscious self-applause: but should I seek
To utter what this heart can feel, ah! vain
Were the attempt! Yet, kindest friends, as o'er
My couch ye bend, and watch with tenderness
The being whom your cares could e'en restore
From the cold grasp of death; say, can you guess
The feelings which this lip can ne'er express?
Feelings deep fixed in grateful memory's store!
Upon this wasted form and fevered cheek;
If e'er returning vigour bids these weak
And languid limbs their gladsome strength regain;
Well may thy brow the placid glow retain
Of sweet content, and thy pleased eye may speak
Thy conscious self-applause: but should I seek
To utter what this heart can feel, ah! vain
Were the attempt! Yet, kindest friends, as o'er
My couch ye bend, and watch with tenderness
The being whom your cares could e'en restore
From the cold grasp of death; say, can you guess
The feelings which this lip can ne'er express?
Feelings deep fixed in grateful memory's store!
238
ADDRESS TO MY HARP.
Oh, my loved Harp! companion dear!
Sweet soother of my secret grief,
No more thy sounds my soul must cheer,
No more afford a soft relief.
Sweet soother of my secret grief,
No more thy sounds my soul must cheer,
No more afford a soft relief.
When anxious cares my heart oppressed,
When doubts distracting tore my soul,
The pains which heaved my swelling breast
Thy gentle sway could oft control.
When doubts distracting tore my soul,
The pains which heaved my swelling breast
Thy gentle sway could oft control.
Each well remembered, practised strain,
The cheerful dance, the tender song,
Recalled with pensive, pleasing pain
Some image loved and cherished long.
The cheerful dance, the tender song,
Recalled with pensive, pleasing pain
Some image loved and cherished long.
239
Where joy sat smiling o'er my fate,
And marked each bright and happy day,
When partial friends around me sat,
And taught my lips the simple lay;
And marked each bright and happy day,
When partial friends around me sat,
And taught my lips the simple lay;
And when by disappointment grieved
I saw some darling hope o'erthrown,
Thou hast my secret pain relieved;
O'er thee I wept, unseen, alone.
I saw some darling hope o'erthrown,
Thou hast my secret pain relieved;
O'er thee I wept, unseen, alone.
Oh! must I leave thee, must we part,
Dear partner of my happiest days?
I may forget thy much-loved art,
Unused thy melody to raise,
Dear partner of my happiest days?
I may forget thy much-loved art,
Unused thy melody to raise,
But ne'er can memory cease to love
Those scenes where I thy charms have felt,
Though I no more thy power may prove,
Which taught my softened heart to melt.
Those scenes where I thy charms have felt,
Though I no more thy power may prove,
Which taught my softened heart to melt.
240
Forced to forego with thee this spot,
Endeared by many a tender tie,
When rosy pleasure blessed my lot,
And sparkled in my cheated eye.
Endeared by many a tender tie,
When rosy pleasure blessed my lot,
And sparkled in my cheated eye.
Yet still thy strings, in Fancy's ear,
With soothing melody shall play;
Thy silver sounds I oft shall hear,
To pensive gloom a silent prey.
With soothing melody shall play;
Thy silver sounds I oft shall hear,
To pensive gloom a silent prey.
241
MORNING.
------ toties nostros Titania questus
Præterit, et gelido spargit miserata flagello.
Statius.
Præterit, et gelido spargit miserata flagello.
Statius.
O Morn! I hail thy soft, enchanting breezes,
Thy soul-felt presence, and reviving light;
Thy glad approach my anxious bosom eases,
And care and sorrow for a while take flight.
Thy soul-felt presence, and reviving light;
Thy glad approach my anxious bosom eases,
And care and sorrow for a while take flight.
Like youth's gay hours, or Spring's delicious season,
To me once more thy balmy breath appears;
Lost hope returns, assumes the face of reason,
And half persuades to flight oppressive fears.
To me once more thy balmy breath appears;
Lost hope returns, assumes the face of reason,
And half persuades to flight oppressive fears.
While darkened casements vainly light excluded,
I wooed propitious sleep with languid sighs,
Care through the gloom his anxious face obtruded,
And banished slumber from my weary eyes.
I wooed propitious sleep with languid sighs,
Care through the gloom his anxious face obtruded,
And banished slumber from my weary eyes.
242
The tedious hours I told with watchful anguish,
And oft, O Morn! accused thy long delay:
I hail thee now, no longer vainly languish,
But quit my couch, and bless refreshing day.
And oft, O Morn! accused thy long delay:
I hail thee now, no longer vainly languish,
But quit my couch, and bless refreshing day.
Through the long night impatient, sad, and weary,
How melancholy life itself appeared!
Lo! cheerful day illumes my prospects dreary,
And how diminished are the ills I feared!
How melancholy life itself appeared!
Lo! cheerful day illumes my prospects dreary,
And how diminished are the ills I feared!
Though pleasure shine not in the expected morrow,
Though nought were promised but return of care,
The light of Heaven could banish half my sorrow,
And comfort whispers in the fresh, cool air.
Though nought were promised but return of care,
The light of Heaven could banish half my sorrow,
And comfort whispers in the fresh, cool air.
I hear the grateful voice of joy and pleasure,
All nature seems my sadness to reprove,
High trills the lark his wild ecstatic measure,
The groves resound with liberty and love:
All nature seems my sadness to reprove,
High trills the lark his wild ecstatic measure,
The groves resound with liberty and love:
243
Ere his glad voice proclaimed thy dawning early,
How oft deceived I rose thy light to hail;
Through the damp grass hoarse accents sounded cheerly,
As wooed his distant love the wakeful rail.
How oft deceived I rose thy light to hail;
Through the damp grass hoarse accents sounded cheerly,
As wooed his distant love the wakeful rail.
Oh, you! who murmur at the call of duty,
And quit your pillow with reluctant sloth,
For whom the Morn in vain displays her beauty,
While tasteless you can greet her smiles so loth;
And quit your pillow with reluctant sloth,
For whom the Morn in vain displays her beauty,
While tasteless you can greet her smiles so loth;
You cannot know the charm which o'er me stealing,
Revives my senses as I taste her breath,
Which half repays the agony of feeling
A night of horrors, only less than death.
Revives my senses as I taste her breath,
Which half repays the agony of feeling
A night of horrors, only less than death.
244
THE VARTREE.
Quivi le piante più che altrove ombrose
E l'erba molle, e il fresco dolce appare.
Poliziano.
E l'erba molle, e il fresco dolce appare.
Poliziano.
Sweet are thy banks, O Vartree! when at morn
Their velvet verdure glistens with the dew;
When fragrant gales by softest Zephyrs borne
Unfold the flowers, and ope their petals new.
Their velvet verdure glistens with the dew;
When fragrant gales by softest Zephyrs borne
Unfold the flowers, and ope their petals new.
How bright the lustre of thy silver tide,
Which winds, reluctant to forsake the vale!
How play the quivering branches on thy side,
And lucid catch the sun-beam in the gale!
Which winds, reluctant to forsake the vale!
How play the quivering branches on thy side,
And lucid catch the sun-beam in the gale!
And sweet thy shade at Noon's more fervid hours,
When faint we quit the upland gayer lawn
To seek the freshness of thy sheltering bowers,
Thy chesnut glooms, where day can scarcely dawn.
When faint we quit the upland gayer lawn
To seek the freshness of thy sheltering bowers,
Thy chesnut glooms, where day can scarcely dawn.
245
How soothing in the dark sequestered grove
To see thy placid waters seem to sleep;
Pleased they reflect the sombre tints they love,
As unperceived in silent peace they creep.
To see thy placid waters seem to sleep;
Pleased they reflect the sombre tints they love,
As unperceived in silent peace they creep.
The deepest foliage bending o'er thy wave
Tastes thy pure kisses with embracing arms,
While each charmed Dryad stoops her limbs to lave
Thy smiling Naïad meets her sister charms.
Tastes thy pure kisses with embracing arms,
While each charmed Dryad stoops her limbs to lave
Thy smiling Naïad meets her sister charms.
Beneath the fragrant lime, or spreading beech,
The bleating flocks in panting crowds repose:
Their voice alone my dark retreat can reach,
While peace and silence all my soul compose.
The bleating flocks in panting crowds repose:
Their voice alone my dark retreat can reach,
While peace and silence all my soul compose.
Here, Mary, rest! the dangerous path forsake
Where folly lures thee, and where vice ensnares,
Thine innocence and peace no longer stake,
Nor barter solid good for brilliant cares.
Where folly lures thee, and where vice ensnares,
Thine innocence and peace no longer stake,
Nor barter solid good for brilliant cares.
246
Shun the vain bustle of the senseless crowd,
Where all is hollow that appears like joy;
Where, the soft claims of feeling disallowed,
Fallacious hopes the baffled soul annoy.
Where all is hollow that appears like joy;
Where, the soft claims of feeling disallowed,
Fallacious hopes the baffled soul annoy.
Hast thou not trod each vain and giddy maze,
By Flattery led o'er Pleasure's gayest field?
Basked in the sunshine of her brightest blaze,
And proved whate'er she can her votaries yield?
By Flattery led o'er Pleasure's gayest field?
Basked in the sunshine of her brightest blaze,
And proved whate'er she can her votaries yield?
That full completion of each glowing hope,
Which youth and novelty could scarce bestow,
From the last dregs of Joy's exhausted cup
Canst thou expect thy years mature shall know?
Which youth and novelty could scarce bestow,
From the last dregs of Joy's exhausted cup
Canst thou expect thy years mature shall know?
Hast thou not tried the vanities of life,
And all the poor, mean joys of Fashion known?
Blush then to hold with Wisdom longer strife,
Submit at length a better guide to own.
And all the poor, mean joys of Fashion known?
Blush then to hold with Wisdom longer strife,
Submit at length a better guide to own.
247
Here woo the Muses in the scenes they love;
Let Science near thee take her patient stand:
Each weak regret for gayer hours reprove,
And yield thy soul to Reason's calm command.
Let Science near thee take her patient stand:
Each weak regret for gayer hours reprove,
And yield thy soul to Reason's calm command.
248
A FAITHFUL FRIEND IS THE MEDICINE OF LIFE.
Son of Sirach.
In the dreams of delight, which with ardour we seek,
Oft the phantom of sorrow appears;
And the roses of pleasure, which bloom in your cheek,
Must be steeped in the dew of your tears:
Oft the phantom of sorrow appears;
And the roses of pleasure, which bloom in your cheek,
Must be steeped in the dew of your tears:
'Mid the fountain of bliss, when it sparkles most bright,
Salt mixtures embitter the spring,
Though its lustre may tremble through bowers of delight,
In the draught disappointment will sting.
Salt mixtures embitter the spring,
Though its lustre may tremble through bowers of delight,
In the draught disappointment will sting.
But if Heaven hath one cup of enjoyment bestowed,
Unmingled and sweet as its own,
In the streams of affection its bounty hath flowed,
And there we may taste it alone.
Unmingled and sweet as its own,
In the streams of affection its bounty hath flowed,
And there we may taste it alone.
249
But the pure simple drops Love would seize as his prize
And defile them with passion's foul tide;
While the bowl he prepares as it dazzles our eyes
The poison of anguish can hide.
And defile them with passion's foul tide;
While the bowl he prepares as it dazzles our eyes
The poison of anguish can hide.
Let Friendship the stream, as it flows calm and clear,
Receive unpolluted for me;
Or if tenderness mingle a sigh or a tear,
The draught still the sweeter will be.
Receive unpolluted for me;
Or if tenderness mingle a sigh or a tear,
The draught still the sweeter will be.
But let me reject the too-high flavoured bowl
Affectation or Flattery compose,
From Sincerity's urn thus transparent shall roll
The cordial of peace and repose.
Affectation or Flattery compose,
From Sincerity's urn thus transparent shall roll
The cordial of peace and repose.
Oh! give me the friend, from whose warm, faithful breast
The sigh breathes responsive to mine,
Where my cares may obtain the soft pillow of rest,
And my sorrows may love to recline.
The sigh breathes responsive to mine,
Where my cares may obtain the soft pillow of rest,
And my sorrows may love to recline.
250
Not the friend who my hours of pleasure will share,
But abide not the season of grief;
Who flies from the brow that is darkened by care,
And the silence that looks for relief.
But abide not the season of grief;
Who flies from the brow that is darkened by care,
And the silence that looks for relief.
Not the friend who, suspicious of change or of guile,
Would shrink from a confidence free;
Nor him who with fondness complacent can smile
On the eye that looks coldly on me.
Would shrink from a confidence free;
Nor him who with fondness complacent can smile
On the eye that looks coldly on me.
As the mirror that, just to each blemish or grace,
To myself will my image reflect,
But to none but myself will that image retrace,
Nor picture one absent defect.
To myself will my image reflect,
But to none but myself will that image retrace,
Nor picture one absent defect.
To my soul let my friend be a mirror as true,
Thus my faults from all others conceal;
Nor, absent, those failings or follies renew,
Which from Heaven and from man he should veil.
Thus my faults from all others conceal;
Nor, absent, those failings or follies renew,
Which from Heaven and from man he should veil.
251
VERSES WRITTEN AT THE COMMENCEMENT OF SPRING.—1802.
Oh, breathe once more upon my brow,
Soft gale of Spring, forgotten never!
For thus thy breath appeared as now
In days of joy, ah! lost for ever.
Soft gale of Spring, forgotten never!
For thus thy breath appeared as now
In days of joy, ah! lost for ever.
Put forth thy fresh and tender leaves,
Soft Eglantine, of fragrance early,
Thee Memory first revived perceives,
From childhood's dawn still welcomed yearly.
Soft Eglantine, of fragrance early,
Thee Memory first revived perceives,
From childhood's dawn still welcomed yearly.
Burst from thy leafy sheath once more,
Bright Hyacinth! thy splendour showing,
The sun thy hues shall now restore
In all their foreign lustre glowing.
Bright Hyacinth! thy splendour showing,
The sun thy hues shall now restore
In all their foreign lustre glowing.
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Oh, plume again thy jetty wing,
Sweet Blackbird, charm thy listening lover!
For thus, even thus, I heard thee sing,
When hopes could smile that now are over.
Sweet Blackbird, charm thy listening lover!
For thus, even thus, I heard thee sing,
When hopes could smile that now are over.
And thou, dear Red-breast, let me hear,
Exchanged once more thy wintery measure,
Thy notes proclaim the spring-tide near,
As they were wont in hours of pleasure.
Exchanged once more thy wintery measure,
Thy notes proclaim the spring-tide near,
As they were wont in hours of pleasure.
The Lark shall mount the sapphire skies
And wake the grateful song of gladness;
One general peal from earth shall rise,
And man alone shall droop in sadness.
And wake the grateful song of gladness;
One general peal from earth shall rise,
And man alone shall droop in sadness.
'Twas here by peace and friendship blest,
I paid to Spring my yearly duty,
When last she decked her fragrant breast
In all the glowing pride of beauty.
I paid to Spring my yearly duty,
When last she decked her fragrant breast
In all the glowing pride of beauty.
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'Twas here the cordial look of love
From every eye benignly flowing,
Bade the kind hours in union move,
Each lip the ready smile bestowing.
From every eye benignly flowing,
Bade the kind hours in union move,
Each lip the ready smile bestowing.
But where the blooming Cherub Boy,
Who hailed with us the pleasant season,
Whose smiles recalled each childish joy,
That sadder years resigned to Reason?
Who hailed with us the pleasant season,
Whose smiles recalled each childish joy,
That sadder years resigned to Reason?
Those bright, those laughing eyes, where Love
And Innocence are seen embracing;
Those fairy hands, that graceful move
Their fancy-formed circles tracing.
And Innocence are seen embracing;
Those fairy hands, that graceful move
Their fancy-formed circles tracing.
Oh, haste as thou wast wont to do;
We'll mount yon shrubby steep together:
Thy care the first wood flowers shall shew,
Thyself all blooming as the weather.
We'll mount yon shrubby steep together:
Thy care the first wood flowers shall shew,
Thyself all blooming as the weather.
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Haste, sweetest Babe, beloved of all!
Our cheerful hours without thee languish:
Ah! hush! . . . . he hears no more thy call!
Ah! hush! . . . . nor wake a parent's anguish!
Our cheerful hours without thee languish:
Ah! hush! . . . . he hears no more thy call!
Ah! hush! . . . . nor wake a parent's anguish!
That lip of roses glows no more;
That beaming glance in night is clouded;
Those bland endearments all are o'er,
In death's dark pall for ever shrouded.
That beaming glance in night is clouded;
Those bland endearments all are o'er,
In death's dark pall for ever shrouded.
No, Angel sweetness! not for ever,
Though Heaven from us thy charms hath hidden,
We joy for thee, though forced to sever;
O favoured guest, thus early bidden!
Though Heaven from us thy charms hath hidden,
We joy for thee, though forced to sever;
O favoured guest, thus early bidden!
Even o'er thy dying couch, sweet Boy!
A heavenly Messenger presided;
He beckoned thee to seats of joy,
To fields of endless rapture guided.
A heavenly Messenger presided;
He beckoned thee to seats of joy,
To fields of endless rapture guided.
255
No, not for thee this bitter tear,
It falls for those yet doomed to sorrow;
Who feel the load of life severe,
Who mourn the past, nor hope the morrow.
It falls for those yet doomed to sorrow;
Who feel the load of life severe,
Who mourn the past, nor hope the morrow.
It falls for those who, left behind,
Must fill their woes allotted measure;
Who muse in hopes to death consigned
On visions of departed pleasure.
Must fill their woes allotted measure;
Who muse in hopes to death consigned
On visions of departed pleasure.
For those who through life's dreary night
Full many a watchful hour shall number,
And sigh for long delaying light,
Or envy those who early slumber.
Full many a watchful hour shall number,
And sigh for long delaying light,
Or envy those who early slumber.
256
TO THE MEMORY OF MARGARET TIGHE:
TAKEN FROM US JUNE 7TH, 1804.—ÆTAT 85.
Sweet, placid Spirit! blest, supremely blest,Whose life was tranquil, and whose end was rest;
'Tis not for thee our general tears shall flow,
Our loss is selfish, selfish is our woe:
We mourn a common parent, common friend,
Centre, round whom thy children loved to bend:
Where hands divided, met again to move
In one sweet circle of united love:
We mourn the tender, sympathising heart
So prompt to aid, and share the sufferer's part;
The liberal hand, the kindly patient ear,
Pity's soft sigh, and ever ready tear;
The graceful form, yet lovely in decay,
The peace inspiring eye's benignant ray;
257
And loved to bid the innocent be glad;
The gently, softening, reconciling word,
The ever cheerful, hospitable board:
The unassuming wisdom, pious prayers,
The still renewed, prolonged, maternal cares:
All—all are lost!—of thee, blest Saint, bereft,
We mourn, to whom impoverished life is left:
Mourn for ourselves! Secure thy lot must be,
With those who pure in heart their God shall see.
258
VERSES WRITTEN IN SICKNESS.
December, 1804.
O thou, whom Folly's votaries slight,
Domestic Love! assuasive power!
Life's ruby gem, which sheds its light
Through age and sorrow's darkest hour,
Domestic Love! assuasive power!
Life's ruby gem, which sheds its light
Through age and sorrow's darkest hour,
Sweeter than Pleasure's syren lay,
Brighter than Passion's fevered dream!
Still round my pillow soothing stay,
Still spread thy kindly lambent beam.
Brighter than Passion's fevered dream!
Still round my pillow soothing stay,
Still spread thy kindly lambent beam.
Alas! for him whose youth has bowed
Beneath the oppressive hand of pain;
Whose claim to pity disallowed
Bids him the unheeded groan restrain.
Beneath the oppressive hand of pain;
Whose claim to pity disallowed
Bids him the unheeded groan restrain.
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Alas! for him who droops like me,
Who mourns life's faded vigour flown,
But finds no soothing sympathy,
No tender cares his loss atone.
Who mourns life's faded vigour flown,
But finds no soothing sympathy,
No tender cares his loss atone.
For him no wakeful eye of love
Resists the slumbers health would shed,
With kind assistance prompt to move,
And gently prop the aching head:
Resists the slumbers health would shed,
With kind assistance prompt to move,
And gently prop the aching head:
With delicate attention paid
In hope to minister relief,
He sees no sacrifices made;
He sees no Mother's anxious grief!
In hope to minister relief,
He sees no sacrifices made;
He sees no Mother's anxious grief!
But I, poor sufferer, doomed in vain
To woo the health which Heaven denied,
Though nights of horror, days of pain
The baffled opiate's force deride,
To woo the health which Heaven denied,
Though nights of horror, days of pain
The baffled opiate's force deride,
260
Yet well I know, and grateful feel,
How much can lenient kindness do,
From anguish half its darts to steal,
And faded hope's sick smile renew.
How much can lenient kindness do,
From anguish half its darts to steal,
And faded hope's sick smile renew.
Oh! how consoling is the eye
Of the dear friend that shares our woes!
Oh! what relief those cares supply,
Which watchful, active love bestows!
Of the dear friend that shares our woes!
Oh! what relief those cares supply,
Which watchful, active love bestows!
And these are mine!—Shall I then dare
To murmur at so mild a lot?
Nor dwell on comforts still my share
With thankful and contented thought?
To murmur at so mild a lot?
Nor dwell on comforts still my share
With thankful and contented thought?
Though destined to the couch of pain,
Though torn from pleasures once too dear,
Around that couch shall still remain
The love that every pain can cheer.
Though torn from pleasures once too dear,
Around that couch shall still remain
The love that every pain can cheer.
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And o'er that couch, in fondness bent,
My languid glance shall grateful meet
The eye of love benevolent,
The tender smile, the tear most sweet.
My languid glance shall grateful meet
The eye of love benevolent,
The tender smile, the tear most sweet.
And still for me affection's hand
Shall o'er that couch her roses shed
And woo from ease her poppied band,
To twine around this throbbing head.
Shall o'er that couch her roses shed
And woo from ease her poppied band,
To twine around this throbbing head.
O pitying Heaven! these comforts spare,
Though age untimely chill gay hope;
May Love still crown the sufferer's prayer,
And gently smooth life's downward slope!
Though age untimely chill gay hope;
May Love still crown the sufferer's prayer,
And gently smooth life's downward slope!
262
PLEASURE.
Ah, syren Pleasure! when thy flattering strainsLured me to seek thee through thy flowery plains,
Taught from thy sparkling cup full joys to sip,
And suck sweet poison from thy velvet lip,
Didst thou in opiate charms my virtue steep,
Was Reason silent, and did Conscience sleep?
How could I else enjoy thy faithless dreams,
And fancy day-light in thy meteor gleams;
Think all was happiness, that smiled like joy,
And with dear purchase seize each glittering toy?
Till roused at length, deep rankling in my heart,
I felt the latent anguish of thy dart!
Oh, let the young and innocent beware,
Nor think uninjured to approach thy snare!
263
By fight infected, and by truce undone.
Secure, at distance let her shores be past,
Whose sight can poison, and whose breath can blast.
Contentment blooms not on her glowing ground,
And round her splendid shrine no peace is found.
If once enchanted by her magic charms,
They seek for bliss in Dissipation's arms:
If once they touch the limits of her realm,
Offended Principle resigns the helm,
Simplicity forsakes the treacherous shore,
And once discarded, she returns no more.
Thus the charmed mariner on every side
Of poisoned Senegal's ill-omened tide,
Eyes the rich carpet of the varied hue
And plains luxuriant opening to his view:
Now the steep banks with towering forests crowned,
Clothed to the margin of the sloping ground;
Where with full foliage bending o'er the waves,
Its verdant arms the spreading Mangrove laves;
264
Betray the richness of the untrodden scene:
Between the opening groves such prospects glow,
As Art with mimic hand can ne'er bestow,
While lavish Nature wild profusion yields,
And spreads, unbid, the rank uncultured fields;
Flings with fantastic hand in every gale
Ten thousand blossoms o'er each velvet vale,
And bids unclassed their fragrant beauties die
Far from the painter's hand or sage's eye.
From cloudless suns perpetual lustre streams,
And swarms of insects glisten in their beams.
Near and more near the heedless sailors steer,
Spread all their canvas, and no warnings hear.
See, on the edge of the clear liquid glass
The wondering beasts survey them as they pass,
And fearless bounding o'er their native green,
Adorn the landscape, and enrich the scene;
Ah, fatal scene! the deadly vapours rise,
And swift the vegetable poison flies,
265
Deceitful calms deal subtle death around;
Even as they gaze their vital powers decay,
Their wasted health and vigour melt away;
Till quite extinct the animating fire,
Pale, ghastly victims, they at last expire.
266
WRITTEN FOR HER NIECE S. K.
Sweetest! if thy fairy hand
Culls for me the latest flowers,
Smiling hear me thus demand
Blessings for thy early hours:
Culls for me the latest flowers,
Smiling hear me thus demand
Blessings for thy early hours:
Be thy promised spring as bright
As its opening charms foretel;
Graced with Beauty's lovely light,
Modest Virtue's dearer spell.
As its opening charms foretel;
Graced with Beauty's lovely light,
Modest Virtue's dearer spell.
Be thy summer's matron bloom
Blest with blossoms sweet like thee;
May no tempest's sudden doom
Blast thy hope's fair nursery!
Blest with blossoms sweet like thee;
May no tempest's sudden doom
Blast thy hope's fair nursery!
267
May thine autumn calm, serene,
Never want some lingering flower,
Which affection's hand may glean,
Though the darkling mists may lower!
Never want some lingering flower,
Which affection's hand may glean,
Though the darkling mists may lower!
Sunshine cheer thy wintry day,
Tranquil conscience, peace, and love;
And thy wintry nights display
Streams of glorious light above.
Tranquil conscience, peace, and love;
And thy wintry nights display
Streams of glorious light above.
268
TO FORTUNE.
Unstable Goddess! why, with care severe,Still dost thou strew with thorns my rugged path?
Thinkst thou I tremble at thy frowns? or e'er
Will crouch submissive to avert thy wrath?
Preserve thy threats for thine unhappy slaves,
The shuddering victims of thy treacherous power;
My soul, thou knowest, amid o'erwhelming waves,
Shall smile superior in the roughest hour.
With me as oft as thou wouldst proudly wage
The combat urged by thy malicious ire,
Full well thou knowest, that from thy baffled rage
My soul has seemed fresh vigour to acquire;
So the bright steel beneath the hammer's blows
More polished, more refined, and keener grows.
269
THE PICTURE.
WRITTEN FOR ANGELA.
Yes, these are the features already imprest
So deep by the pencil of Love on my heart!
Within their reflection they find in this breast:
Yet something is wanting: ah! where is the art
That to painting so true can that something impart?
So deep by the pencil of Love on my heart!
Within their reflection they find in this breast:
Yet something is wanting: ah! where is the art
That to painting so true can that something impart?
Oh! where is the sweetness that dwells on that lip?
And where is the smile that enchanted my soul?
No sweet dew of love from these roses I sip,
Nor meet the soft glance which with magic control
O'er the cords of my heart so bewitchingly stole.
And where is the smile that enchanted my soul?
No sweet dew of love from these roses I sip,
Nor meet the soft glance which with magic control
O'er the cords of my heart so bewitchingly stole.
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Cold, cold is that eye! unimpassioned its beams;
They speak not of tenderness, love, or delight:
Oh! where is the heart-thrilling rapture that streams
From the heavenly blue of that circle so bright,
That sunshine of pleasure which gladdened my sight?
They speak not of tenderness, love, or delight:
Oh! where is the heart-thrilling rapture that streams
From the heavenly blue of that circle so bright,
That sunshine of pleasure which gladdened my sight?
Yet come to my bosom, O image adored!
And, sure, thou shalt feel the soft flame of my heart,
The glow sympathetic once more be restored,
Once more it shall warm thee, ah, cold as thou art!
And to charms so beloved its own feelings impart!
And, sure, thou shalt feel the soft flame of my heart,
The glow sympathetic once more be restored,
Once more it shall warm thee, ah, cold as thou art!
And to charms so beloved its own feelings impart!
Oh, come! and while others his form may behold,
And he on another with fondness may smile,
To thee shall my wrongs, shall my sorrows be told,
And the kiss I may give thee, these sorrows the while,
Like the memory of joys which are past, shall beguile.
And he on another with fondness may smile,
To thee shall my wrongs, shall my sorrows be told,
And the kiss I may give thee, these sorrows the while,
Like the memory of joys which are past, shall beguile.
271
THE SHAWL'S PETITION,
TO LADY ASGILL.
Oh, fairer than the fairest forms
Which the bright sun of Persia warms,
Though nymphs of Cashmire lead the dance
With pliant grace, and beamy glance;
And forms of beauty ever play
Around the bowers of Moselay;
Fairest! thine ear indulgent lend,
And to thy suppliant Shawl attend!
Which the bright sun of Persia warms,
Though nymphs of Cashmire lead the dance
With pliant grace, and beamy glance;
And forms of beauty ever play
Around the bowers of Moselay;
Fairest! thine ear indulgent lend,
And to thy suppliant Shawl attend!
If, well content, I left for thee
Those bowers beyond the Indian sea,
And native, fragrant fields of rose
Exchanged for Hyperborean snows;
If from those vales of soft perfume,
Pride of Tibet's far boasted loom,
I came, well pleased, thy form to deck,
And, from thy bending polished neck
Around thy graceful shoulders flung,
With many an untaught beauty clung,
Or added to thy brilliant zone
A charm that Venus well might own,
Or, fondly twined, in many a fold
To shield those lovely limbs from cold,
Fairest! thine ear indulgent lend,
And to thy suppliant Shawl attend.
Those bowers beyond the Indian sea,
And native, fragrant fields of rose
Exchanged for Hyperborean snows;
If from those vales of soft perfume,
Pride of Tibet's far boasted loom,
272
And, from thy bending polished neck
Around thy graceful shoulders flung,
With many an untaught beauty clung,
Or added to thy brilliant zone
A charm that Venus well might own,
Or, fondly twined, in many a fold
To shield those lovely limbs from cold,
Fairest! thine ear indulgent lend,
And to thy suppliant Shawl attend.
Oh! by those all attractive charms
Thy slender foot, thine ivory arms;
By the quick glances of thine eyes,
By all that I have seen thee prize;
Oh! doom me not in dark disgrace,
An exile from Sophia's face,
To waste my elegance of bloom
In sick and melancholy gloom;
Condemned no more in Beauty's train
To hear the viol's sprightly strain,
Or woo the amorous zephyr's play
Beneath the sunbeam's vernal ray;
Banished alike from pleasure's scene,
And lovely nature's charms serene,
Oh, fairest! doom me not to know
How hard it is from thee to go!
Thy slender foot, thine ivory arms;
By the quick glances of thine eyes,
By all that I have seen thee prize;
Oh! doom me not in dark disgrace,
An exile from Sophia's face,
To waste my elegance of bloom
In sick and melancholy gloom;
Condemned no more in Beauty's train
To hear the viol's sprightly strain,
273
Beneath the sunbeam's vernal ray;
Banished alike from pleasure's scene,
And lovely nature's charms serene,
Oh, fairest! doom me not to know
How hard it is from thee to go!
But if my humble suit be vain,
If destined to attend on pain,
My joyless days in one dull round,
To one eternal sopha bound,
Shut from the breath of heaven most pure,
Must pass in solitude obscure;
At least to cheat these weary hours
Appear with all thy gladdening powers,
Restore thy sweet society,
And bless at once thy friend and me.
If destined to attend on pain,
My joyless days in one dull round,
To one eternal sopha bound,
Shut from the breath of heaven most pure,
Must pass in solitude obscure;
At least to cheat these weary hours
Appear with all thy gladdening powers,
Restore thy sweet society,
And bless at once thy friend and me.
274
TO LADY CHARLEMONT,
March, 1808.
IN RETURN FOR HER PRESENTS OF FLOWERS.
Yes, though the sullen east-wind storm,And sunless skies the Spring deform,
The lovely Nina's graceful hand
Can, like a fairy's lily wand,
Bid every vernal sweet appear,
And bloom with early fragrance here!
Yes here, even here, they breathe perfume,
Though walls of melancholy gloom,
With northern aspect frowning rude,
Each brighter beam of Heaven exclude.
Behold! at Nina's soft command,
The flowers their velvet leaves expand,
275
(That loves in languid peace to lie,
And bending beautiful in shade,
Seems of the amorous light afraid)
Fresh violets here their charms diffuse,
And here, with richly mingling hues,
The gold and purple crocus vie
To mock the pomp of majesty.
See how her soul-bewitching smile
Can even selfish love beguile!
While fair Narcissus bends no more
His snowy beauties to adore,
But lifts for once his cups of gold
A fairer image to behold.
Dear Nina! teach a grateful heart
Thine own persuasive, winning art;
So might I best my thanks commend,
So please each kind, each cherished friend!
For, as thy hand with smiling flowers
Hath crowned the lingering, wintry hours,
276
Hath sheltered from the nipping air
The tender buds of half-chilled hope
That seemed in withering gloom to droop,
And bid them bloom, revived again,
In spite of years, and grief, and pain.
O'er me Affection loves to shed
Her comforts full, unmeasured;
To bless my smiling hearth she sends
The dearer smile of dearest friends,
And bids my prison couch assume
No form of pain, no air of gloom;
But sweet content and cheerful ease,
All that in solitude can please,
And all that soothing, social love
Can bid its quiet favourites prove,
Wooed by the voice of tenderness,
Unite my happy home to bless.
As round that lovely pictured wreath
Where Rubens bid his pencil breathe,
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Glow the rich colours of each flower,
Attendant cherubs sweetly join,
And all their odorous wings entwine;
One cherub guards each blushing flower,
And pure ambrosia seems to shower:
So, Nina, o'er each peaceful day
Protecting love and kindness play,
And shed o'er each some balmy pleasure
That grateful memory loves to treasure!
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WRITTEN AT WEST-ASTON.
June, 1808.
Yes, I remember the dear suffering saint,
Whose hand, with fond, commemorative care,
Planted that myrtle on my natal day.
It was a day of joy to him she loved
Best upon earth;—and still her gentle heart,
That never felt one passion's eager throb,
Nor aught but quiet joys, and patient woes,
Was prompt to sympathize with all; and most
With that beloved brother.—She had hoped
Perchance, that, fondly on his arm reclined
In placid happiness, her feeble step
Might here have wandered through these friendly shades,
This hospitable seat of kindred worth:
And that the plant, thus reared, in future years
Might win his smile benignant, when her hand
279
Bright spreading to the sun its fragrant leaf,
His Mary's myrtle bloomed.—Ah me! 'tis sad
When sweet affection thus designs in vain,
And sees the fragile web it smiling spun
In playful love, crushed by the sudden storm,
And swept to dark oblivion, mid the wreck
Of greater hopes!—Even while she thought of bliss,
Already o'er that darling brother's head
The death-commissioned angel noiseless waved
His black and heavy wings: and though she mourned
That stroke, in pious sorrow, many a year,
Yet, even then, the life-consuming shaft
In her chaste breast she uncomplaining bore.
Now, both at rest, in blessed peacefulness,
With no impatient hope, regret, or doubt,
Await that full completion of the bliss
Which their more perfect spirits shall receive.
Fair blossomed her young tree, effusing sweet
Its aromatic breath; for other eyes
Blushed the soft folded buds, and other hands
280
Preserved the fond memorial; nay, even yet
Would fain preserve with careful tenderness
The blighted relic of what once it loved.
Hard were the wintry hours felt even here
Amid these green protecting walls, and late
The timid Spring, oft chilled and rudely checked,
At last unveiled her tenderest charms, and smiled
With radiant blushes on her amorous train:
But no reviving gale, no fruitful dew,
Visits the brown parched leaf, or from the stem,
The withering stem, elicits the young shoots
With hopes of life and beauty; yet thy care
Perhaps, dear Sydney, thine assiduous care
May save it still. What can resist the care
Of fond, assiduous love? Oh! it can raise
The shuddering soul, though sunk beneath the black,
Suspended pall of death! Believe this lip,
Believe this grateful heart, which best can feel
The life-restoring power of watchful love.
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BRYAN BYRNE,
OF GLENMALURE.
Bright shines the morn o'er Carickmure,
And silvers every mountain stream;
The autumnal woods on Glenmalure
Look lovely in the slanting beam.
And silvers every mountain stream;
The autumnal woods on Glenmalure
Look lovely in the slanting beam.
And hark! the cry, the cry of joy,
The hounds spring o'er yon heathy brow!—
“'Tis but the hunter's horn, my boy,
No death-tongued bugle scares us now.”
The hounds spring o'er yon heathy brow!—
“'Tis but the hunter's horn, my boy,
No death-tongued bugle scares us now.”
In vain the widowed mother smiled,
And clasped her darling to her breast;
Horror and rage o'er all the child
A manly beauty strange impressed.
And clasped her darling to her breast;
Horror and rage o'er all the child
A manly beauty strange impressed.
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Fierce rolled his eye, of heaven's own hue,
And the quick blood strong passions told,
As fresh the breeze of morning blew
From his clear brow the locks of gold.
And the quick blood strong passions told,
As fresh the breeze of morning blew
From his clear brow the locks of gold.
'Tis not alone the horn so shrill;—
Yon martial plume that waves on high,
Bids every infant nerve to thrill
With more than infant agony.
Yon martial plume that waves on high,
Bids every infant nerve to thrill
With more than infant agony.
Yet gentle was the soldier's heart,
Whom 'mid the gallant troop he spied
Who let the gallant troop depart,
And checked his eager courser's pride.
Whom 'mid the gallant troop he spied
Who let the gallant troop depart,
And checked his eager courser's pride.
“What fears the child?” he wondering cried,
With courteous air as near he drew.
“Soldier, away! my father died,
Murdered by men of blood like you.”
With courteous air as near he drew.
“Soldier, away! my father died,
Murdered by men of blood like you.”
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Even while the angry cherub speaks,
He struggles from the stranger's grasp:
Kissing the tears that bathed her cheeks,
His little arms his mother clasp.
He struggles from the stranger's grasp:
Kissing the tears that bathed her cheeks,
His little arms his mother clasp.
“And who are these,—this startled pair,
Who swift down Glenmalure are fled?
Behold the mother's maniac air,
As seized with wild and sudden dread!”
Who swift down Glenmalure are fled?
Behold the mother's maniac air,
As seized with wild and sudden dread!”
“'Tis Ellen Byrne,” an old man cried;
“Poor Ellen, and her orphan boy!”
Then turned his silvered brow aside,
To shun the youth's enquiring eye.
“Poor Ellen, and her orphan boy!”
Then turned his silvered brow aside,
To shun the youth's enquiring eye.
“And is there none to guard the child,
Save that lone frenzied widow's hand?
These rocky heights, these steep woods wild,
Sure some more watchful eye demand.”
Save that lone frenzied widow's hand?
These rocky heights, these steep woods wild,
Sure some more watchful eye demand.”
284
“Ah, well he knows each rock, each wood,
The mountain goat not more secure;
And he was born to hardships rude,
The orphan Byrne of Carickmure.
The mountain goat not more secure;
And he was born to hardships rude,
The orphan Byrne of Carickmure.
“That boy had seen his father's blood,
Had heard his murdered father's groan;
And never more in playful mood
With smiles his infant beauty shone.”
Had heard his murdered father's groan;
And never more in playful mood
With smiles his infant beauty shone.”
Sad was the pitying stranger's eye:
“Too well,” said he, “I guess the truth;
His father, sure, was doomed to die,
Some poor deluded rebel youth.”
“Too well,” said he, “I guess the truth;
His father, sure, was doomed to die,
Some poor deluded rebel youth.”
“No rebel he,” with eye inflamed,
And cheek that glowed with transient fire,
Roused to a sudden warmth, exclaimed
The hapless Ellen's aged sire.
And cheek that glowed with transient fire,
Roused to a sudden warmth, exclaimed
The hapless Ellen's aged sire.
285
“He did not fall in Tarah's fight,
No blood of his the Curragh stains,
Where many a ghost that moans by night
Of foully broken faith complains.
No blood of his the Curragh stains,
Where many a ghost that moans by night
Of foully broken faith complains.
“He triumphed not that fatal day,
When every loyal cheek looked pale,
But heard, like us, with sad dismay,
Of fallen chiefs in Clough's dark vale.
When every loyal cheek looked pale,
But heard, like us, with sad dismay,
Of fallen chiefs in Clough's dark vale.
“For, wedded to our Ellen's love,
One house was ours, one hope, one soul:
Though fierce malignant parties strove,
No party rage could love control.
One house was ours, one hope, one soul:
Though fierce malignant parties strove,
No party rage could love control.
“Though we were sprung from British race,
And his was Erin's early pride,
Yet matched in every loveliest grace,
No priest could e'er their hearts divide.
And his was Erin's early pride,
Yet matched in every loveliest grace,
No priest could e'er their hearts divide.
286
“What though no yeoman's arms he bore;
'Twas party hate that hope forbad:
What though no martial dress he wore,
That dress no braver bosom clad.
'Twas party hate that hope forbad:
What though no martial dress he wore,
That dress no braver bosom clad.
“And had our gallant Bryan Byrne
Been welcomed to their loyal band,
Home might I still in joy return
The proudest father in the land.
Been welcomed to their loyal band,
Home might I still in joy return
The proudest father in the land.
“For, ah! when Bryan Byrne was slain,
With him my brave, my beauteous son
His precious life-blood shed in vain;—
The savage work of death was done!”. . . .
With him my brave, my beauteous son
His precious life-blood shed in vain;—
The savage work of death was done!”. . . .
He ceased: for now, by memory stung,
His heart's deep wounds all freshly bled,
While with a father's anguish wrung,
He bowed to earth his aged head.
His heart's deep wounds all freshly bled,
While with a father's anguish wrung,
He bowed to earth his aged head.
287
Yet soothing to his broken heart
He felt the stranger's sympathy,
And age is ready to impart
Its page of woe to pity's eye.
He felt the stranger's sympathy,
And age is ready to impart
Its page of woe to pity's eye.
Yes! it seemed sweet once more to dwell
On social joys and peaceful days,
And still his darling's virtues tell,
And still his Ellen's beauty praise.
On social joys and peaceful days,
And still his darling's virtues tell,
And still his Ellen's beauty praise.
“But say,” at length exclaimed the youth,
“Did no one rash, rebellious deed
E'er cloud thy Bryan's loyal truth,
And justice doom thy boy to bleed?”
“Did no one rash, rebellious deed
E'er cloud thy Bryan's loyal truth,
And justice doom thy boy to bleed?”
“No; never rash, rebellious deed
Was his, nor rash rebellious word;
That day of slaughter saw him bleed,
Where blushing Justice dropped the sword.
Was his, nor rash rebellious word;
That day of slaughter saw him bleed,
Where blushing Justice dropped the sword.
288
“In Fury's hand it madly raged,
As urged by fierce revenge she flew;
With unarmed Innocence she waged
Such war as Justice never knew.”
As urged by fierce revenge she flew;
With unarmed Innocence she waged
Such war as Justice never knew.”
“'Twas ours (the sorrowing father cried),
'Twas ours to mourn the crimes of all:
Each night some loyal brother died;
Each morn beheld some victim fall.
'Twas ours to mourn the crimes of all:
Each night some loyal brother died;
Each morn beheld some victim fall.
“Oh, 'twas a sad and fearful day
That saw my gallant boys laid low;
The voice of anguish and dismay
Proclaimed full many a widow's woe!
That saw my gallant boys laid low;
The voice of anguish and dismay
Proclaimed full many a widow's woe!
“But doubly o'er our fated house
The accursed hand of murder fell,
And ere our Ellen wept her spouse,
She had a dreadful tale to tell!
The accursed hand of murder fell,
And ere our Ellen wept her spouse,
She had a dreadful tale to tell!
289
“For early on that guilty morn
The voice of horror reached our ears;
That, from their thoughtless slumber torn,
Before a helpless sister's tears,
The voice of horror reached our ears;
That, from their thoughtless slumber torn,
Before a helpless sister's tears,
“Beneath their very mother's sight
Three youthful brothers butchered lie,
Three loyal yeomen brave in fight,
Butchered by savage treachery.
Three youthful brothers butchered lie,
Three loyal yeomen brave in fight,
Butchered by savage treachery.
“They were my nephews; boys I loved,
My own brave boys alone more dear;
Their rashness oft my heart reproved,
And marked their daring zeal with fear.
My own brave boys alone more dear;
Their rashness oft my heart reproved,
And marked their daring zeal with fear.
“They were my widowed sister's joy;
Her hope in age and dark distress;
And Ellen loved each gallant boy
Even with a sister's tenderness.
Her hope in age and dark distress;
And Ellen loved each gallant boy
Even with a sister's tenderness.
290
“It was from Ellen's lips I heard
The tidings sadly, surely true:
To me, ere yet the dawn appeared,
All pale with fear and grief she flew.
The tidings sadly, surely true:
To me, ere yet the dawn appeared,
All pale with fear and grief she flew.
“Roused by her call, with her I sought
The sad abode of misery:
But to the wretched mother brought
No comfort, but our sympathy.
The sad abode of misery:
But to the wretched mother brought
No comfort, but our sympathy.
“On the cold earth, proud Sorrow's throne,
In silent majesty of woe,
She sat, and felt herself alone,
Though loud the increasing tumults grow.
In silent majesty of woe,
She sat, and felt herself alone,
Though loud the increasing tumults grow.
“In throngs the assembled country came,
And every hand was armed with death:
Revenge! revenge! (they all exclaim,)
Spare no suspected traitor's breath:
And every hand was armed with death:
Revenge! revenge! (they all exclaim,)
Spare no suspected traitor's breath:
291
“No; let not one escape who owns
The faith of Rome, of treachery:
This loyal blood for vengeance groans,
And signal vengeance let there be!
The faith of Rome, of treachery:
This loyal blood for vengeance groans,
And signal vengeance let there be!
“What, shall we feel the coward blow,
And tamely wait a late defence?
No; let us strike the secret foe,
Even through the breast of innocence!
And tamely wait a late defence?
No; let us strike the secret foe,
Even through the breast of innocence!
“Poor Ellen trembled as they raved;
Her pallid cheek forgot its tears;
While from the hand of fury saved,
Her infant darling scarce appears.
Her pallid cheek forgot its tears;
While from the hand of fury saved,
Her infant darling scarce appears.
“I saw her earnest searching eye,
In that dark moment of alarm,
Ask, in impatient agony,
A brother's dear, protecting arm.
In that dark moment of alarm,
Ask, in impatient agony,
A brother's dear, protecting arm.
292
“Woe! bitter woe, to me and mine!
Too well his brave, his feeling heart
Already could her fears divine,
And more than bear a brother's part.
Too well his brave, his feeling heart
Already could her fears divine,
And more than bear a brother's part.
“When the first savage blast he knew
Would bid each deadly bugle roar,
Back to our home of peace he flew:
Ah, home of peace and love no more!
Would bid each deadly bugle roar,
Back to our home of peace he flew:
Ah, home of peace and love no more!
“Oh! would to God that I had died
Beneath my wretched sister's roof!
Thus heaven in mercy had denied
To my worst fears their utmost proof.
Beneath my wretched sister's roof!
Thus heaven in mercy had denied
To my worst fears their utmost proof.
“So had these eyes been spared a sight
That wrings my soul with anguish still,
Nor known how much of life, ere night,
The blood-hounds of revenge could spill.
That wrings my soul with anguish still,
Nor known how much of life, ere night,
The blood-hounds of revenge could spill.
293
“Sinking at once with fear and age,
Her father's steps my child upheld;
The mangled victims of their rage
Each moment shuddering we beheld.
Her father's steps my child upheld;
The mangled victims of their rage
Each moment shuddering we beheld.
“Down yon steep side of Carickmure,
Our rugged path we homeward wound;
And saw, at least, that home secure,
'Mid many a smoking ruin round.
Our rugged path we homeward wound;
And saw, at least, that home secure,
'Mid many a smoking ruin round.
“Low in the Glen our cottage lies
Behind yon dusky copse of oak:
On its white walls we fixed our eyes,
But not one word poor Ellen spoke!
Behind yon dusky copse of oak:
On its white walls we fixed our eyes,
But not one word poor Ellen spoke!
“We came . . . . the clamour scarce was o'er,
The fiends scarce left their work of death:—
But never spoke our Bryan more,
Nor Ellen caught his latest breath.
The fiends scarce left their work of death:—
But never spoke our Bryan more,
Nor Ellen caught his latest breath.
294
“Still to the corse by horror joined,
The shrinking infant closely clung,
And fast his little arms intwined,
As round the bleeding neck he hung.
The shrinking infant closely clung,
And fast his little arms intwined,
As round the bleeding neck he hung.
“Oh, sight of horror, sight of woe!
The dead and dying both were there:
One dreadful moment served to show,
For us was nothing but despair.
The dead and dying both were there:
One dreadful moment served to show,
For us was nothing but despair.
“Oh, God! even now methinks I see
My dying boy, as there he stood,
And sought with fond anxiety
To hide his gushing wounds of blood,
My dying boy, as there he stood,
And sought with fond anxiety
To hide his gushing wounds of blood,
“Ere life yet left his noble breast,
Gasping, again he tried to speak,
And twice my hand he feebly pressed,
And feebly kissed poor Ellen's cheek.
Gasping, again he tried to speak,
And twice my hand he feebly pressed,
And feebly kissed poor Ellen's cheek.
295
“No word she spoke, no tear she shed,
Ere at my feet convulsed she fell,
Still lay my children, cold and dead!
And I yet live, the tale to tell!
Ere at my feet convulsed she fell,
Still lay my children, cold and dead!
And I yet live, the tale to tell!
“She too awoke to wild despair
With frenzied eye each corse to see,
To rave, to smile with frantic air;
But never more to smile for me!
With frenzied eye each corse to see,
To rave, to smile with frantic air;
But never more to smile for me!
“But hold! from yonder grassy slope
Our orphan darling calls me hence:
Sweet child, last relic of our hope,
Of love and injured innocence.
Our orphan darling calls me hence:
Sweet child, last relic of our hope,
Of love and injured innocence.
“Soldier, farewel! To thee should power
Commit the fate of lives obscure,
Remember still in fury's hour
The murdered youths of Glenmalure.
Commit the fate of lives obscure,
Remember still in fury's hour
The murdered youths of Glenmalure.
296
“And chief, if civil broils return,
Though vengeance urge to waste, destroy;
Ah! pause! . . . . think then on Bryan Byrne,
Poor Ellen, and her orphan boy!”
Though vengeance urge to waste, destroy;
Ah! pause! . . . . think then on Bryan Byrne,
Poor Ellen, and her orphan boy!”
297
IMITATED FROM JEREMIAH.—Chap. xxxi. v. 15.
Hark, the voice of loud lamentSounds through Ramah's saddened plain!
There cherished grief, there pining discontent,
And desolation reign.
There, mid her weeping train
See Rachel for her children mourn
Disconsolate, forlorn!
The comforter she will not hear,
And from his soothing strains she hopeless turns her ear.
Daughter of affliction peace,
Let, at last, thy sorrows cease,
Wipe thy sadly streaming eye,
Look up, behold thy children nigh:
298
See how vainly thou hast feared!
See, from the destroyer's land
Comes the loved, lamented band;
Free from all their conquered foes
Glorious shall they seek repose;
Surest hope for thee remains,
Smile at all thy former pains;
Joy shall with thy children come,
And all thy gladdened bowers shall bloom
299
HAGAR IN THE DESERT.
Injured, hopeless, faint, and weary,
Sad, indignant, and forlorn,
Through the desert wild and dreary,
Hagar leads the child of scorn.
Sad, indignant, and forlorn,
Through the desert wild and dreary,
Hagar leads the child of scorn.
Who can speak a mother's anguish,
Painted in that tearless eye,
Which beholds her darling languish,
Languish unrelieved, and die.
Painted in that tearless eye,
Which beholds her darling languish,
Languish unrelieved, and die.
Lo! the empty pitcher fails her,
Perishing with thirst he lies,
Death with deep despair assails her,
Piteous as for aid he cries.
Perishing with thirst he lies,
Death with deep despair assails her,
Piteous as for aid he cries.
300
From the dreadful image flying,
Wild she rushes from the sight;
In the agonies of dying
Can she see her soul's delight?
Wild she rushes from the sight;
In the agonies of dying
Can she see her soul's delight?
Now bereft of every hope,
Cast upon the burning ground,
Poor, abandoned soul! look up,
Mercy have thy sorrows found.
Cast upon the burning ground,
Poor, abandoned soul! look up,
Mercy have thy sorrows found.
Lo! the Angel of the Lord
Comes thy great distress to cheer;
Listen to the gracious word,
See divine relief is near.
Comes thy great distress to cheer;
Listen to the gracious word,
See divine relief is near.
“Care of Heaven! though man forsake thee,
Wherefore vainly dost thou mourn?
From thy dream of woe awake thee,
To thy rescued child return.
Wherefore vainly dost thou mourn?
From thy dream of woe awake thee,
To thy rescued child return.
301
“Lift thine eyes, behold yon fountain,
Sparkling mid those fruitful trees;
Lo! beneath yon sheltering mountain
Smile for thee green bowers of ease.
Sparkling mid those fruitful trees;
Lo! beneath yon sheltering mountain
Smile for thee green bowers of ease.
“In the hour of sore affliction
God hath seen and pitied thee;
Cheer thee in the sweet conviction,
Thou henceforth his care shalt be.
God hath seen and pitied thee;
Cheer thee in the sweet conviction,
Thou henceforth his care shalt be.
“Be no more by doubts distressed,
Mother of a mighty race!
By contempt no more oppressed,
Thou hast found a resting place.”—
Mother of a mighty race!
By contempt no more oppressed,
Thou hast found a resting place.”—
Thus from peace and comfort driven,
Thou, poor soul, all desolate,
Hopeless lay, till pitying Heaven
Found thee, in thy abject state.
Thou, poor soul, all desolate,
Hopeless lay, till pitying Heaven
Found thee, in thy abject state.
302
O'er thy empty pitcher mourning
Mid the desert of the world;
Thus, with shame and anguish burning,
From thy cherished pleasures hurled:
Mid the desert of the world;
Thus, with shame and anguish burning,
From thy cherished pleasures hurled:
See thy great deliverer nigh,
Calls thee from thy sorrow vain,
Bids thee on his love rely,
Bless the salutary pain.
Calls thee from thy sorrow vain,
Bids thee on his love rely,
Bless the salutary pain.
From thine eyes the mists dispelling,
Lo! the well of life he shews,
In his presence ever dwelling,
Bids thee find thy true repose.
Lo! the well of life he shews,
In his presence ever dwelling,
Bids thee find thy true repose.
Future prospects rich in blessing
Open to thy hopes secure;
Sure of endless joys possessing,
Of an heavenly kingdom sure.
Open to thy hopes secure;
Sure of endless joys possessing,
Of an heavenly kingdom sure.
303
THE LILY.
May, 1809.
How withered, perished seems the form
Of yon obscure unsightly root!
Yet from the blight of wintry storm,
It hides secure the precious fruit.
Of yon obscure unsightly root!
Yet from the blight of wintry storm,
It hides secure the precious fruit.
The careless eye can find no grace,
No beauty in the scaly folds,
Nor see within the dark embrace
What latent loveliness it holds.
No beauty in the scaly folds,
Nor see within the dark embrace
What latent loveliness it holds.
Yet in that bulb, those sapless scales,
The lily wraps her silver vest,
'Till vernal suns and vernal gales
Shall kiss once more her fragrant breast.
The lily wraps her silver vest,
'Till vernal suns and vernal gales
Shall kiss once more her fragrant breast.
304
Yes, hide beneath the mouldering heap
The undelighting slighted thing;
There in the cold earth buried deep,
In silence let it wait the spring.
The undelighting slighted thing;
There in the cold earth buried deep,
In silence let it wait the spring.
Oh! many a stormy night shall close
In gloom upon the barren earth,
While still, in undisturbed repose,
Uninjured lies the future birth;
In gloom upon the barren earth,
While still, in undisturbed repose,
Uninjured lies the future birth;
And Ignorance, with sceptic eye,
Hope's patient smile shall wondering view;
Or mock her fond credulity,
As her soft tears the spot bedew.
Hope's patient smile shall wondering view;
Or mock her fond credulity,
As her soft tears the spot bedew.
Sweet smile of hope, delicious tear!
The sun, the shower indeed shall come;
The promised verdant shoot appear,
And nature bid her blossoms bloom.
The sun, the shower indeed shall come;
The promised verdant shoot appear,
And nature bid her blossoms bloom.
305
And thou, O virgin Queen of Spring!
Shalt, from thy dark and lowly bed,
Bursting thy green sheath's silken string,
Unveil thy charms, and perfume shed;
Shalt, from thy dark and lowly bed,
Bursting thy green sheath's silken string,
Unveil thy charms, and perfume shed;
Unfold thy robes of purest white,
Unsullied from their darksome grave,
And thy soft petals silvery light
In the mild breeze unfettered wave.
Unsullied from their darksome grave,
And thy soft petals silvery light
In the mild breeze unfettered wave.
So Faith shall seek the lowly dust
Where humble Sorrow loves to lie,
And bid her thus her hopes entrust,
And watch with patient, cheerful eye;
Where humble Sorrow loves to lie,
And bid her thus her hopes entrust,
And watch with patient, cheerful eye;
And bear the long, cold, wintry night,
And bear her own degraded doom,
And wait till Heaven's reviving light,
Eternal Spring! shall burst the gloom.
And bear her own degraded doom,
And wait till Heaven's reviving light,
Eternal Spring! shall burst the gloom.
306
SONNET WRITTEN AT WOODSTOCK,
June 30, 1809.
IN THE COUNTY OF KILKENNY, THE SEAT OF WILLIAM TIGHE.
Sweet, pious Muse! whose chastely graceful formDelighted oft amid these shades to stray,
To their loved master breathing many a lay
Divinely soothing; oh! be near to charm
For me the languid hours of pain, and warm
This heart depressed with one inspiring ray
From such bright visions as were wont to play
Around his favoured brow, when, to disarm
The soul subduing powers of mortal ill,
Thy soft voice lured him “to his ivyed seat,”
“His classic roses,” or “his heathy hill;”
Or by yon “trickling fount” delayed his feet
Beneath his own dear oaks, when, present still,
The melodies of Heaven thou didst unseen repeat.
307
ON RECEIVING A BRANCH OF MEZEREON
December, 1809.
WHICH FLOWERED AT WOODSTOCK.
Odours of Spring, my sense ye charm
With fragrance premature;
And, mid these days of dark alarm,
Almost to hope allure.
Methinks with purpose soft ye come
To tell of brighter hours,
Of May's blue skies, abundant bloom,
Her sunny gales and showers.
With fragrance premature;
And, mid these days of dark alarm,
Almost to hope allure.
Methinks with purpose soft ye come
To tell of brighter hours,
Of May's blue skies, abundant bloom,
Her sunny gales and showers.
Alas! for me shall May in vain
The powers of life restore;
These eyes that weep and watch in pain
Shall see her charms no more.
No, no, this anguish cannot last!
Beloved friends, adieu!
The bitterness of death were past,
Could I resign but you.
The powers of life restore;
These eyes that weep and watch in pain
Shall see her charms no more.
308
Beloved friends, adieu!
The bitterness of death were past,
Could I resign but you.
But oh! in every mortal pang
That rends my soul from life,
That soul, which seems on you to hang
Through each convulsive strife,
Even now, with agonizing grasp
Of terror and regret,
To all in life its love would clasp
Clings close and closer yet.
That rends my soul from life,
That soul, which seems on you to hang
Through each convulsive strife,
Even now, with agonizing grasp
Of terror and regret,
To all in life its love would clasp
Clings close and closer yet.
Yet why, immortal, vital spark!
Thus mortally opprest?
Look up, my soul, through prospects dark,
And bid thy terrors rest;
Forget, forego thy earthly part,
Thine heavenly being trust:—
Ah, vain attempt! my coward heart
Still shuddering clings to dust.
Thus mortally opprest?
Look up, my soul, through prospects dark,
And bid thy terrors rest;
309
Thine heavenly being trust:—
Ah, vain attempt! my coward heart
Still shuddering clings to dust.
Oh ye! who sooth the pangs of death
With love's own patient care,
Still, still retain this fleeting breath,
Still pour the fervent prayer:—
And ye, whose smile must greet my eye
No more, nor voice my ear,
Who breathe for me the tender sigh,
And shed the pitying tear,
With love's own patient care,
Still, still retain this fleeting breath,
Still pour the fervent prayer:—
And ye, whose smile must greet my eye
No more, nor voice my ear,
Who breathe for me the tender sigh,
And shed the pitying tear,
Whose kindness (though far far removed)
My grateful thoughts perceive,
Pride of my life, esteemed, beloved,
My last sad claim receive!
Oh! do not quite your friend forget,
Forget alone her faults;
And speak of her with fond regret
Who asks your lingering thoughts.
My grateful thoughts perceive,
Pride of my life, esteemed, beloved,
My last sad claim receive!
310
Forget alone her faults;
And speak of her with fond regret
Who asks your lingering thoughts.
311
[If on this earth she passed in mortal guise]
[_]
The concluding poem of this collection was the last ever composed by the author, who expired at the place where it was written, after six years of protracted malady, on the 24th of March, 1810, in the thirty-seventh year of her age. Her fears of death were perfectly removed before she quitted this scene of trial and suffering; and her spirit departed to a better state of existence, confiding with heavenly joy in the acceptance and love of her Redeemer.
A short and painful pilgrimage, shall we
Her sad survivors grieve, that Love divine
Removed her timely to perpetual bliss?—
Thou art not lost!—in chastest song and pure
With us still lives thy virtuous mind, and seems
A beacon for the weary soul, to guide
Her safely through Affection's winding path,
To that eternal mansion gained by thee!
W. T.
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