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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:36:13 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:36:13 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11193-0.txt b/11193-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..95e605d --- /dev/null +++ b/11193-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2732 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11193 *** + +ELEGIES AND OTHER SMALL POEMS + +BY + +MATILDA BETHAM. + + + +_To the Hon. LADY JERNINGHAM_. + +_Madam_, + +_The many endearing instances of regard I have experienced since I had +the honor of being known to your Ladyship, while they impress my mind +with gratitude, flatter my hopes with a favourable reception of the +following miscellanies, which, under your patronage, I venture to submit +to the public_. + +_Considered as the first essays of an early period of life, and as the +exercises of leisure, my wishes suggest, that they may not, perhaps, be +found wholly unworthy of attention; but whatever be their fate with +others, I shall feel myself much gratified, if, in your Ladyship's +judgment, they may be allowed some merit_. + +_Though there cannot be a greater pleasure than dwelling on the +excellencies of a distinguished and amiable character, I know not that +it would be permitted me to indulge my present inclination with +enumerating those virtues and endowments which confessedly distinguish +your Ladyship, but my wishes I may offer, and that you may long, very +long, continue to bless your family, to adorn your rank, and console +the unhappy, is the sincere prayer of_ + +_Your Ladyship's most obliged humble servant, MATILDA BETHAM_. + +_Stonham, Nov. 20, 1797._ + + + + +TO THE READER. + + +If, in the following pages, there may be found any unacknowledged +imitations, I hope I shall not be censured as an intentional plagiarist; +for it has been my wish, however I may be esteemed presumptuous, not +to be unjust; and I sometimes fear lest an imperfect recollection of +another's idea should have appeared to me as a dawning thought of my +own. Wherever I could recollect a similar passage, although unnoticed +at the time I wrote, it has been either altered or acknowledged. + +I commit these trifles to the press with the anxiety necessarily +resulting from a desire that they may not be deemed altogether +worthless. Though the natural partiality of the writer may be somewhat +strengthened by the commendations of friends and parents, I am well +aware that no apology can give currency to imperfection. + +I have not vainly attempted to ascend to the steeps of Parnassus. If, +wandering at its foot, I have mistaken perishable shrubs for never-dying +flowers, the errors of a youthful mind, first viewing the fascinating +regions of fancy, will not be rigidly condemned; for wherever there +is true taste, there will be genuine candour. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + To ----, with Arthur and Albina + Arthur and Albina + The Fraternal Duel + Lines in a Letter to A.R.C. + The Lonely Walk + The Outlaw + Invitation + Whitsun-Monday + Philemon + On a Fan + To Simplicity + The Terrors of Guilt + Cen'lin, Prince of Mercia + Rhapsody + Human Pleasure or Pain + The Complaint of Fancy + On the Eve of Departure from O---- + To M.I. + Translation from Metastasio + ---------- from Della Casa + Editha + To M.I. + Written in Zimmerman's Solitude + To the Memory of Mr. Agostino Isola + To the Nuns of Bodney + Written in London + Fragment + Fragment + Written April 18, 1796. + + + + +To ---- WITH ARTHUR and ALBINA. + +1794. + + +Ah! if your eye should e'er these lines survey, +Dismiss from thence its penetrating ray: +Let Criticism then her distance keep, +And dreaded Justice then be lull'd to sleep; +For, let whatever sentence be their due, +I feel I cannot censure bear from you. + + + * * * * * + +_A British Maid awaits the arrival of her lover from the battle, on a +hill, where, at its commencement, she had retired to make vows to heaven +for his success.--Evening_. + + * * * * * + + + + +ARTHUR and ALBINA. + + +Ah me! the yellow western sky turns pale, + And leaves the cheerless sons of earth to mourn; +And yet I hear not in the silent vale, + A sound to tell me Arthur does return. + +Ah, haste ye hours! quick plume the loit'ring wing! + Bring back my hero, crown'd with glorious spoils! +Let bards on lofty harps his triumphs sing, + And loud applause repay successful toils! + +Reward the flame, ye great celestial pow'rs, + The noble flame that in his bosom glows! +Inspire him, Druids, from your holy bow'rs, + With strength to conquer iron-breasted foes![1] + +With heighten'd vigour brace his nervous arm, + And let his lance with ten-fold fury fly, +Make him terrific by some potent charm, + And add new lightening to his piercing eye! + +Then may my lover gain unrivall'd fame, + The Roman banners may less proudly flow, +Then he may humble their detested name, + And their high plumes wave o'er' a British brow! + +Then may his chariot,[2] wheeling o'er the plain, + Hurl death and desolation all around, +While his intrepid front appals their train, + And make our proud invaders bite the ground! + +But yet I hear no lively foot advance; + No sound of triumph greets my list'ning ear!' +And I may carve this eagle-darting lance + For one, whose voice I never more shall hear! + +Perhaps my vows have never reach'd the skies, + Nor heav'n, propitious, smil'd upon my pray'r; +And ah! to morrow's crimson dawn may rise + To plunge me in the horrors of despair! + +Yet well he knows the dreadful spear to wield-- + Alas! their fearful limbs are fenc'd with care: +And, what can valour, when th'extended shield[3] + May leave, so oft, his gen'rous bosom bare? + +Say, reverend Druids, can you bless in vain? + Can you in vain extend your spotless hands? +Will not heav'n listen when its priests complain, + And save its altars from unhallow'd bands? + +Oh yes! I'll fear no more! The sacred groves,[4] + That rear their untouch'd branches to the skies; +Beneath whose shade its chosen servant roves, + Hidden from weak, unconsecrated eyes: + +Beneath whose shade the choral bards rehearse, + Piercing, with uprais'd eyes, each mist that shrouds, +And, listening, catch the heav'n-dictated verse, + By airs etherial wailed from the clouds: + +It ne'er can be--but hark! I hear the sound + Of some one's step; yet not the youth I love; +He would have flown, and scarcely touch'd the ground, + Not ling'ring thus, with weary caution, move. + +The heavy wanderer approaches nigh, + But the drear darkness skreens him from my views +Ah, gracious heav'n! it was my Arthur's sigh, + Which the unwilling breeze so faintly blew. + +Oh speak! inform me what I have to fear! + Speak, and relieve my doubting, trembling heart! +To thy Albina, with a tongue sincere, + A portion of thy wretchedness impart!" + +"Sweet maid," replied the wounded, dying youth, + In accents mournful, tremulous and slow, +"Yes, I will ever answer thee with truth, + While yet the feeble tide of life shall flow. + +We made the haughty Roman chiefs retire, + The tow'ring, sacrilegious eagle[5] flew; +Our bosoms swell'd with more than mortal fire, + When from the field indignant they withdrew. + +But ill bespeaks my faint and languid tongue, + The glowing beauties of that joyful sight; +Ill can my breast, with keenest torture wrung, + Dwell on the charming terrors of the fight. + +To others then I leave the envied strain, + Which shall for ages rend the British air; +Nor will thy partial ear expect, in vain, + To find the humble name of Arthur there. + +I go, while now the victory is warm, + The just reward of valour to obtain; +Soon I return, clad in a nobler form,[6] + Again to triumph, and again be slain. + +Ah! then, my dear Albina, cease to grieve, + Nor at thy lover's glorious fate repine; +For, though my present favour'd form I leave, + This constant heart shall still be only thine. + +Alas! e'en now I feel the icy hand + Of hasty death, press down my swelling heart; +E'en now I hear a sweet aerial band, + Summon thy faithful Arthur to depart. + +Let not thy tears an absent lover mourn, + Remember that he bravely, nobly died; +Remember that he quickly will return, + And claim again his lov'd, his destin'd bride." + +As thus the warrior's fainting spirits fled, + And parting life streamed forth at every vein, +His quivering lip, in whispers, softly said, + "Remember, Arthur dies to live again!" + +"Oh stay, dear youth!" the hapless maiden cries, + My best-lov'd Arthur, but one moment stay! +And close not yet those all-enlivening eyes, + So lately lighted at the torch of day. + +Ah! yet once more, that look of tender love, + Of fond regret, my Arthur, let me view! +Let one more effort thy affection, prove, + And bid me once, once more, a long adieu. + +Now, ere the moon withdraws her feeble light, + Ope yet again on me thy fading eye! +He hears not! memory has ta'en her flight, + And vanish'd with that last convulsive sigh. + +Why did I variegated wreaths prepare, + To pay the conqueror every honor due? +Or, why, with fillets, bind my flowing hair, + And tinge my arms of the bright azure hue?[7] + +Oh! must this constant bosom beat no more? + This skilful hand no more direct the spear? +Must lost Albina still her fate deplore, + And ever drop the unavailing tear? + +Must I no more that lovely face review, + Expressing each emotion of the mind? +No more repeat a sweetly sad adieu? + No more gay chaplets on his forehead bind? + +His forehead, high and fair, with martial grace, + And bold, free curls of glossy chesnut crown'd; +The full, dark eye-brow which adorn'd his face, + O'erwhelming foes with terror as he frown'd. + +His voice, though strong, harmoniously clear, + No more shall fill Albina with delight; +No more shall sooth her still-attentive ear, + And make her fancy every sorrow light. + +Farewell to love, to happiness, and joy! + Yet will I cull the summer's choicest bloom; +Funereal chaplets shall my time employ, + And wither daily on my Arthur's tomb." + +As thus she mourn'd, with bitterest woe opprest, + A ray of light illumin'd all the grove, +And a consoling voice the fair addrest, + In the soft accents of parental love. + +Though still she clasp'd her hero's valued corse, + She slowly rais'd her languid, streaming eyes, +And own'd astonishment's resistless force, + Viewing the stranger with a wild surprize. + +The form was clad in robes of purest white, + That swept with solemn dignity the ground; +Contrasting with the blackest gloom of night, + Which reign'd in awful majesty around. + +The silver beard did reverence demand,[8] + And told her that a holy bard was there, +Whose shrivell'd fingers grasp'd a flaming brand, + Which threw a lustre on the waving hair. + +His eye possess'd the brilliant fire of youth, + United with the wisdom of the sage; +And speaking, with the simple voice of truth, + He blended the solemnity of age. + +"Arise! thou loveliest of misfortune's train, + And cease these weak, desponding tears to shed; +The soft effusions of thy grief restrain, + Which serve but to disturb the peaceful dead. + +The youth you mourn, far from these scenes of woe, + To worlds of never-ending joy is flown; +Where his blest bosom with delight shall glow, + And his fair temples wear a princely crown. + +Ah then, presumptuous! question not the skies, + Nor more with vain laments his loss deplore; +Attend to this, and cease your fruitless sighs, + You soon shall meet where you can part no more."[9] + +Awe-struck, his sacred wisdom she confest, + Which pour'd sweet consolation on her mind; +She cross'd her blood-stain'd hands upon her breast, + And bow'd her humble, grateful head, resign'd. + +AUGUST 27, 1794. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 1: Alluding to the armour of the Romani.] + +[Footnote 2: The Britons fought in low chariots, which they could leave +and re-ascend at pleasure.] + +[Footnote 3: The shield being their only armour, when held out to +protect a wounded or dying friend, left them defenceless.] + +[Footnote 4: The groves were consecrated to the celebration of religious +mysteries.] + +[Footnote 5: The Roman standard.] + +[Footnote 6: The Druids are said to have preached the doctrine of +transmigration, in order to inspire their warriors with the greater +contempt of death.] + +[Footnote 7: The practice of staining themselves with blue was common +among the Britons.] + +[Footnote 8: The people, excepting the priests, shaved off all the hair +from their faces, but what grew on the upper lip.] + +[Footnote 9: This equivocal manner of speech may be supposed natural +enough in one of this order of priests, who, it is said, held a more +refined idea of a future state than they preached to the people.] + + + * * * * * + + Alas! no more that joyous morn appears + That led the tranquil hours of spotless fame; + For I have steep'd a father's couch in tears, + +SHENSTONE. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE FRATERNAL DUEL. + + +'Oh! hide me from the sun! I loath the sight! + I cannot bear his bright, obtrusive ray: +Nought is so dreadful to my gloom as light! + Nothing so dismal as the blaze of day! + +No more may I its sparkling glories view! + No more its piercing lustre meet my eye! +On night's black wings my only comfort flew; + At breath of morn I sicken and I die. + +Where can I fly? In what sequester'd clime + Does darkness ever hold her ebon reign? +Where woeful dirges measure out the time, + And endless echoes breathe the sullen strain. + +Where dreary mountains rear their low'ring heads, + To pierce the heavy and umbrageous clouds; +And where the cavern dewy moisture sheds, + And night's thick veil the guilty mourner shrouds. + +There, lost in horrors, I might vent my sighs; + To open misery myself resign; +Might snatch each torturing vision ere it flies, + And feast on prospects desolate as mine. + +Oh! let me thither quickly take my flight, + And chuse a favourite and a final seat, +In scenes which would each gentler mind affright, + But for my guilt affords a fit retreat. + +There, where no ray, no gleam of light could come, + There, and there only, could I find relief; +There might I ruminate on Edward's doom, + And lose myself in luxury of grief. + +And, as it is, though joys around me shine, + Though pleasure here erects her dazzling brow, +Wrapt in despondence, will I droop and pine, + And tears of anguish shall for ever flow. + +Oh Edward! could'st thou see this alter'd frame, + Which youthful graces lately did adorn! +Could'st thou behold, and think me still the same, + Thy once gay friend, thus hapless and forlorn? + +The cheek, so late by ruddy health embrown'd, + Now pale and faded with incessant tears; +The eye, which once elate, disdain'd the ground, + Now sunk and languid in its orb appears. + +Oh! never, never will I cease to grieve! + And sure repentance pardon may obtain! +Can woe unfeign'd incite heav'n to relieve + A wretch opprest with agonizing pain? + +Ah no! my hands are stain'd with brother's blood! + A father's curses load my sinking head! +I wish to die, but dare not pass the flood, + For there, as well as here, my hopes are fled. + +Sleep, which was meant to chase away the thought, + To lull the sound of dissonant despair, +Appears to me with added terrors fraught, + And my torn heart can find no refuge there. + +If, for a moment, I its fetters wear, + And its soft pressure these pale eyes controul, +I injur'd Emma's just reproaches hear, + Or Edward's form appals my shrinking soul. + +When in those transitory sleeps I lie, + I oft his beauteous, bleeding form review; +A mild, benignant lustre lights his eye, + As come to bid a friend a last adieu. + +I start, I shudder at his tuneful voice, + When it, in soothing whispers, meets my ear; +That sound, which oft has made my heart rejoice, + I now all-trembling and affrighted hear. + +Was it thy fault, dear, much-lamented youth + If lovely Emma did thy suit prefer? +She saw thee form'd of tenderness and truth, + And kings might glory to be lov'd by her. + +Thy native sweetness won her artless heart; + And well our different characters she knew; +Whilst thy mild looks did happiness impart, + She saw the murderer in each glance I threw. + +Yet for this, meanly, did I thee upbraid, + And basely urg'd an elder brother's right; +Then, calling impious passion to my aid, + Forc'd thee, unwilling, to the fatal fight. + +Oh! ne'er shall I forget the dreadful hour, + I sheath'd my weapon in thy noble breast; +Thy dying hand clasp'd mine, with feeble pow'r, + And to thy mangled bosom fondly prest. + +Whilst o'er thee, I, in speechless anguish hung, + Thou saw'st the wild distraction of my eye; +And, though the chills of death restrain'd thy tongue + Thy bosom heav'd a sympathetic sigh. + +With cruel tenderness my friends contriv'd, + To bear me from the drear, polluted shore; +Of every joy, of peace itself depriv'd, + Which this despairing breast shall know no more. + +Since this what frenzy has inspir'd my mind! + My tortur'd mem'ry cannot it retrace; +No relique now of former days I find, + But horrors, which e'en madness can't efface. + +My dearest brother, and my tenderest friend, + O come, and save me from this dark abyss! +Draw hence the darts which my rack'd bosom rend! + And bear me with you to the realms of bliss! + +Ah! whence that pang which smote my shuddering heart? + Where now, for refuge, can lost Anselm fly? +'Tis Death! I know him by his crimson dart! + And, am I fit? Oh heav'ns! I cannot die! + +My spirit is not form'd for rapid flight; + It cannot cut the vast expanse of air, +No, never can it reach the realms of light, + For sin, a weight immoveable, lies there!' + +Thus wretched Anselm rav'd: unhappy youth! + Though passion hurried thee so far astray, +Thy infant soul ador'd the God of Truth, + And virtue usher'd in thy vernal day. + +Oh! had he learn'd his passions to restrain, + And let cool reason in his breast preside, +His op'ning wisdom had not bloom'd in vain, + Nor had he, ere the prime of manhood, died. + +Yet, if remorse could expiate his guilt, + If the worst sufferings could the crime erase, +If tears could wash away the blood he spilt, + Then Anselm's penitence obtain'd him grace. + + +AUGUST 20, 1794. + + + +IN A LETTER to A.R.C. ON HER WISHING TO BE CALLED ANNA. + + +Forgive me, if I wound your ear, + By calling of you Nancy, +Which is the name of my sweet friend, + The other's but her fancy. + +Ah, dearest girl! how could your mind + The strange distinction frame? +The whimsical, unjust caprice, + Which robs you of your name. + +_Nancy_ agrees with what we see, + A being wild and airy; +Gay as a nymph of Flora's train, + Fantastic as a fairy. + +But _Anna's_ of a different kind, + A melancholy maid; +Boasting a sentimental soul, + In solemn pomp array'd. + +Oh ne'er will I forsake the sound, + So artless and so free! +Be what you will with all mankind. + But _Nancy_ still with me. + + + + +THE LONELY WALK, + +To W.S.B. + + +When the grey evening spreads a calm around, + Tell me, has thy bewilder'd fancy sought, +Retir'd in some sequestered spot of ground, + Rest, from the labour of eternal thought? + +When, wrapt in self, the soul enjoys repose, + The wearied brain resigns its fervent heat, +In dream-like musing every care we lose, + And wind our way with slowly-moving feet. + +Oft, to indulge the thought-exploded sigh, + When, slowly wandering at the close of day, +Light emanations from th'abstracted eye, + With transient beauty in the sun-beams play, + +Thy sister seeks the solitary shade. + Her mind inhaling the aerial gloom, +Sees, not-observing, the fair landscape fade, + And sullen mist usurping day-light's room. + +Not her's the feelings which regret inspires, + When sorrows keen have made the spirits low; +Adversity has damp'd the youthful fires, + And all the tears that fall are tears of woe. + +Ah no! possessing every social bliss, + I cannot, will not at my fate repine; +Or ask for happiness excelling this, + When such a world of treasures now are mine! + +And, when the melancholy grove I seek, + Scarce can my palpitating heart controul, +While silent tears are trembling on my cheek, + The flood of pleasure swelling in my soul. + +But soon my too-elated thoughts are calm, + The tumults of the mental chaos cease; +A soft oblivion the rais'd senses charm, + And lull to a reflecting, soothing peace. + +Hail, sweet enhancements of the languid mind! + Whose calm reposes restless worldlings scorn; +But from whose aid recruited strength we find, + And waken, lively as the bird of morn. + +And thou, lov'd boy, in whose congenial breast, + I doubt not but those sentiments reside; +For we, our thoughts, our actions have confest, + As much in hearts as persons are allied; + +Hail thou, my brother! may thy steps be led + By heav'nly wisdom through this world of care, +And gain the realms for which our Saviour, bled! + Nor pain, nor lassitude await us there. + +OCTOBER 13, 1794. + + + * * * * * + +_The first Percy, who came over with William the Conqueror, married a +Saxon lady, called Emma de Port, said to have been the daughter of the +last Saxon Earl of Northumberland, whose possessions had been given to +him (Lord William de Percy) for his services_. + +_I have taken the liberty of supposing this lady to have had a +brother._ + + * * * * * + + + + +THE OUTLAW. + + +Before the fair Aurora spread + Her azure mantle o'er the skies, +While sleep its pleasing influence shed, + On grateful mortals weary eyes, + +Emerg'd from a surrounding wood, + On a bleak mountain's sullen brow, +A solitary outlaw stood, + And view'd, through mist, the world below. + +With deep regret his bosom fraught, + His arms were wreath'd in sorrow's knot[10]; +Nor seem'd he yet, by patience taught, + To bear submissively his lot. + +Hidden was each enlivening grace; + Deprest by his untimely doom; +A hectic flush o'erspread his face, + Instead of nature's florid bloom. + +Untutor'd in the school of grief, + His pining spirit spoke in sighs; +Though almost hopeless of relief, + He look'd around with eager eyes; + +And fondly bent an anxious ear, + To the slow murmuring of the breeze, +Essaying oft, in vain, to hear + A friendly step beneath the trees. + +"Delusive wish!" at last he cried, + "Why wilt thou fill my aching breast? +And thus my miseries deride, + By telling how I might be blest. + +"No kind consolers hither bend, + By sympathy to ease my care; +Here comes no ever-faithful friend, + Who yet might shield me from despair. + +"The abbey's well-known tow'r I seek, + It fades from my impassion'd eye; +The fancied outlines softly break, + And melt into the distant sky. + +"No pitying object now remains, + That I may know those scenes are near, +Where generous love and friendship reigns, + And Alwin's name may claim a tear. + +"And you, my lov'd paternal groves, + Where I no more must shew my head; +In your fair walks a stranger roves, + And treacherous Normans daily tread! + +"E'en now their presence may prophane + The halls where Herbert did reside! +E'en now may joy and gladness reign, + And Adelaide be Percy's bride. + +"Yet no! her soul, the seat of truth, + Would ne'er a second love receive! +The sacred vows of artless youth, + Her Alwin ever shall believe! + +"They still shall comfort my sad heart, + And sooth the anguish of my mind; +Shall still a cheering hope impart, + And make me somewhat more resign'd. + +"Ah! yet I hear her trembling hand, + Withdraw the bolt to set me free! +Yet hear the hasty, kind command, + My Alwin fly, and live for me! + +"No other can obtain my love! + I would for thee the world resign! +Then let thy prompt obedience prove + That thou art truly, wholly mine." + +"And ever to her promise true, + No pleasure shall her soul elate, +For, yet her constant thoughts pursue + A wretched Outlaw's hapless fate! + +"In vain proud Ranulph[11] shall upbraid, + My Adelaide is still the same! +And, for thy sake, dear, lovely maid, + I will not curse the Norman name! + +"Not, though my father's large domains, + Are plunder'd by the murderous bands; +And my Northumbria's fertile plains, + Lie wasted by their cruel hands; + +"Though, as a son, I mourn the fate + Of those, to whom my life I owe; +And hate the hearts that thus create + The dimness of severest woe; + +"Though I behold no friendly steel, + To give my Emma vengeance, drawn; +And though a brother's pangs I feel, + To know her destitute, forlorn; + +"Though, banish'd from the sight of day, + In dreary solitude I pine; +And, forc'd to feel a tyrant's sway, + Each dear paternal right resign; + +"Yet will I seal my lips; nor dare + To extricate my haughty foes: +The hateful, guilty root I spare, + Which can produce so fair a rose. + +"But thou, my heart, wilt thou be calm? + Oh! tell me, can reflection cease; +And this fond bosom, now so warm, + Be ever tranquilliz'd to peace! + +"Ah, no! a father's scornful eye + Is ever present to my view; +And tells me, Herbert dar'd to die, + Though Normans could his son subdue. + +"Each feeble plea his soul disdains, + They cannot for the fault atone; +Though, when I left Northumbria's plains, + I had not fifteen summers known. + +"And hear me, Herbert, when I swear + It was not fear that urg'd my flight; +A worthless life was not my care, + I thought but of a parent's right. + +"Then pardon that my youth comply'd, + To ease a mother's anxious fears +That, when I rather would have died, + I yielded to a sister's tears. + +"Alas! a peasant's humble shed, + Soon saw our sainted parents' death, +Who, while our hearts in anguish bled, + With pious hopes resign'd her breath. + +"When mists foretel the ev'ning near, + And clouds of chilling dew arise, +We sought the grave of her so dear, + And offer'd there our tears and sighs. + +"'Till mild reflection lent her aid, + And bade our filial sorrows cease; +The fever of our souls allay'd, + We sunk into a mournful peace. + +"My pensive bosom strove to keep + A dying mother's last request; +I let the thoughts of vengeance sleep, + And studied to make Emma blest. + +"No longer shunning of the dawn, + Or seeking the sequester'd shade, +I call'd my sister to the lawn, + And trod with her the flow'ry glade. + +"Submitting to our wayward fate, + I talk'd not of the treasures flown; +But still seem'd easy and sedate, + While pressing verdure not my own. + +"Then all I wish'd, and all I fear'd, + Was by fraternal love inspir'd; +And one, by every tie endear'd, + The only friend my soul desir'd. + +"Yet soon that pleasing calmness fled, + A Norman beauty won my heart, +Imperious love my footsteps led, + And bade all secrecy depart. + +"I own'd the splendour of my race, + Altho' a peasant's form I bore; +I fancied silence was disgrace, + And hid my sentiments no more. + +"Her father's tongue my fate decreed, + And doom'd great Herbert's son to shame; +For, tho' by love from prison freed, + I bear an outlaw's hateful name. + +"My sister no fond friend can shield, + No relative allay her grief; +For tyranny all hearts hath steel'd, + And nought can give her soul relief. + +"With ev'ry quality to charm, + A guardian will not heaven allow, +To screen thy artless youth from harm, + And, fair deserted! help thee now! + +"No aid, no comfort, can be nigh! + And shall thy brother here remain? +Has he not fortitude to fly, + And burst the heavy, servile chain? + +"Why should I linger here alone, + Unseen by every human eye? +To live unfriended and unknown, + And in this dreary desart die. + +"For now the sun-beams gild the sky, + And give the misty morning grace, +Far from the light I'm doom'd to fly, + Abandon'd by the human race. + +"But no! I'll bear suspense no more! + Too dear a price to purchase breath; +I'll seek the scenes I yet deplore, + And meet a welcome, wish'd-for, death." + +Tortur'd to frenzy, Alwin flew, + And as he left his sad retreat, +He, turning, look'd a last adieu, + And shook the dew-drops from his feet. + +His hurried steps nor press'd the ground, + Nor pointed out the path he came; +And, though so long the way he found, + Despair buoy'd up his fainting frame. + +The sun shot forth a feeble ray, + But hid his glorious orb from sight, +And the pale evening's modest grey, + Had soften'd the too-glaring light, + +When Alwin reach'd the humble cot, + That once he did with Emma share, +And, weeping, hail'd the well-known spot, + In vain, for Emma was not there. + +Repuls'd, he turn'd his languid eye, + Where Ranulph's lofty turrets rose; +And, heaving disappointment's sigh, + He sought the mansion of his foes. + +His faltering step, when there he came, + A proud, disdainful air possest; +Memory recall'd his former shame, + And indignation fill'd his breast. + +He enter'd, in his wild attire, + With hasty pace and haggard brow, +Scorn fill'd his azure eye with fire, + And gave his cheeks a deeper glow. + +A graceful knight who met his view, + Sat pleading by a lady's side; +And Alwin's jealous bosom knew + Lord Percy, and his fated bride. + +Mistaken youth! thy eyes have seen, + The persons pictur'd in thy mind; +But who is that, with pensive mien, + And forehead on her hand reclin'd? + +O'er whom Lord Ranulph fondly bends, + With sorrow seated on his brow; +While the regretting tear descends + O'er his pale cheek, in silent woe. + +"Ah! is it thus?" sad Alwin said, + The fancied bride the accents knew, +Lord Percy rais'd his drooping head, + And lovely Emma met his view. + +Then rapture and surprize prevail'd, + Each bosom felt confus'd delight; +While his return the mourner hail'd, + And thus his sorrows did requite. + +"O, dearest Alwin, now no more + My father disapproves our flame; +No longer we thy loss deplore, + Or tremble to pronounce thy name. + +"A noble friend has gain'd our cause, + And vanquish'd all his former hate; +Who, ere he own'd a lover's laws, + With generous tears had wept thy fate." + +"Yes, injur'd youth," Lord Ranulph cried, + "Thou art this day my chosen heir; +In Adelaide behold thy bride, + Thy sister's future husband, there. + +"Lord Percy, to a candid mind, + Unites a fervour like thy own; +And Emma, not to merit blind, + Refers his cause to thee alone. + +"If thou wilt grant his fond desire, + 'Twill gain a brave, a noble friend; +And the possessions of thy sire, + To his posterity descend." + +"And did my Emma stay to hear, + Her brother sanctify her choice? +Ah Percy! now you need not fear + From Alwin, a dissenting voice. + +"Blest in my love, in Emma blest, + My heart each cherish'd wish obtains; +Northumbrians, now no more opprest, + Shall own a son of Herbert reigns. + +"May ye rebuild the peasant's cot, + Exalt the woe-depressed head, +And o'er each desolated spot, + The fostering calm of quiet spread! + +"May sterne reserve and caution cease! + With lenient hand dispense your sway; +Give them the healing balm of peace, + Their wounded spirits will obey. + +"Ah! cheer their gloom! dispel their care! + The smile will soon replace the tear; +And, wedded to a Saxon fair, + The foreign lord no more appear." + +1794. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 10: "Wreathing his arms in this sad knot."--SHAKESPERE'S +TEMPEST.] + +[Footnote 11: Lord of Cumberland.] + + + + +INVITATION, + +To J.B.C. + + +Now spring appears, with beauty crown'd, +And all is light and life around, +Why comes not Jane? When friendship calls, +Why leaves she not Augusta's walls? +Where cooling zephyrs faintly blow, +Nor spread the cheering, healthful glow. +That glides through each awaken'd vein, +As skimming o'er the spacious plain, +We look around with joyous eye, +And view no boundaries but the sky. + +Already April's reign is o'er, +Her evening tints delight no more; +No more the violet scents the gale, +No more the mist o'erspreads the vale; +The lovely queen of smiles and tears, +Who gave thee birth, no more appears; +But blushing May, with brow serene, +And vestments of a livelier green, +Commands the winged choir to sing, +And with wild notes the meadows ring. + +O come! ere all the train is gone, +No more to hail thy twenty-one; +That age which higher honor shares, +And well becomes the wreath it wears. +From lassitude and cities flee, +And breathe the air of heav'n, with me. + + +MAY 5, 1795. + + + + +WRITTEN ON + +WHITSUN-MONDAY, + +1795. + + +At an open window sitting, + On this day of mirth and glee, +'Cross a flow'ry vista flitting, + Many passing forms I see. +Ah! lovely prospect, stay awhile! + And longer glad my doating eye, +With poverty's delighted smile, + And lighten'd step, as passing by; + +With labour's spruce and ruddy train, + Deck'd out in all their best array, +Who, months of toil and care disdain, + Paid by the pleasures of a day. +The village girl still let me view, + Hast'ning to the neighb'ring fair; +Her cap adorn'd with pink or blue, + And nicely smooth her glossy hair. + +With sparkling eye and smiling face, + Ting'd o'er with beauty's warmest glow; +With timid air, and humble grace, + With clear and undepressed brow. +Go! lovely girl, and share the day, + To thy industrious merit due; +There join the dance, or choral lay; + Thou blooming, village rose, adieu! + +And thou, O youth, so blythe and free, + Bounding swiftly o'er the plain, +Go, taste the joys of liberty, + And cheer thy spirit, happy swain! +How different to the lonely hour, + When slowly following the plough, +Self-buoyant joy forgets the pow'r, + Which warms thy gladden'd bosom now. + +If some rural prize desiring, + Or ambitious of applause, +Loud huzzas thy wishes firing, + Thy steady hand the furrow draws; +Ne'er a victor fam'd in story, + Greater praise and reverence drew, +Than thou, attir'd in humble glory, + So, guiltless conqueror, adieu! + +Oh, here a charming group appears! + A cottage family, so gay, +Whose youthful hopes, uncheck'd by fears, + In smiles of thoughtless rapture play. +Here, borne in fond, parental arms, + The infant's roving eye we view; +Boasting a thousand, thousand charms, + Endearing innocents, adieu! + +They go! no more with beating heart, + And lively, dancing step to tread; +Unwillingly will they depart, + To seek again their homely shed. +Ah! Eve, I love thy veil of grey, + Which will conceal them from my view, +For, bending home their weary way, + How sad would be our last adieu! + + + * * * * * + +_The following was suggested by reading a whimsical description, given +by Scarron, of the deformity of his person, contrasted with its former +elegance, in the Curiosities of Literature, vol. 2, page 247_. + + * * * * * + + + + +PHILEMON. + + +Ye blooming youth, possest of every grace, + Which can delight the eye, or please the ear, +Who boast a polish'd mind and faultless face, + Awhile the councils of Philemon hear! + +Let not pride lift the thoughtless head too high, + Temerity arch o'er the scornful brow, +Contemptuous glances arm the sparkling eye, + Or the high heart with self-complacence glow! + +Alas! full soon the eve of life arrives, + Though pale Disease's train approach not nigh; +Short is the summer of the happiest lives, + If no rude storm disturbs the smiling sky. + +This wretched body, bending to the earth, + Once, on the wings of health, alert and gay, +Shone forth the foremost in the train of mirth, + And cloudless skies announc'd a beauteous day. + +My parents oft, with fond complacence view'd, + The elegance of my external form; +And thought my mind with excellence endued, + Bright as my genius, as my fancy warm. + +There was a time, poor as I now appear, + I admiration met in every look; +And, harsh as now my words may grate your ear, + Each tongue was silent when Philemon spoke. + +Once could this voice make every bosom thrill, + As it pour'd forth the light or plaintive lay; +And once these fingers, with superior skill, + Upon the lute could eloquently play. + +By partial friendship sooth'd, by flattery fann'd, + I learnt with conscious grace the dance to lead, +To guide the Phaeton with careless hand, + And rule, with flowing rein, the prancing steed. + +Sick with the glory of a trifler's fame, + By folly nurtur'd, I was proud and vain; +Till Chastisement in kindest mercy came, + Though then her just decrees I dar'd arraign. + +The form that sought so late the public view, + That glow'd with transport, as the world admir'd, +Fill'd with false shame, from every eye withdrew, + And to the shades of solitude retir'd. + +Consum'd by fevers, spiritless, forlorn, + Blasted by apoplexy's dreadful rage, +My bleeding heart by keen remembrance torn, + I past my prime in premature old age. + +I heard my parent's ill-suppressed sighs, + And wish'd myself upon the peaceful bier; +I saw the anguish of their sleepless eyes, + The smile dissembled, and the secret tear. + +Oft, with a kind of gratifying woe, + I recollected every former charm, +And, with the spleen of a malicious foe, + Delighted still to keep my sorrows warm. + +"Where is the lustre of the gladsome eye, + The airy smile, the animated mien, +The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye, + So lately envied, now no longer seen. + +"I too have gloried in my waving hair, + No ringlets now remain to raise my pride; +Nor can I now lay the white forehead bare, + And push the too luxuriant locks aside." + +Thus, like a child, I sigh'd for pleasures past, + And lost my hours in a delusive dream; +But Reason op'd my blinded eyes at last, + And clear'd each mist by her refulgent beam. + +I saw futurity before me spread, + A scourge or sceptre offer'd to my view, +Alarm'd, from Folly's erring mazes fled, + And to my God with humble rev'rence drew. + +I bow'd, submissive, at the holy shrine, + His mercy with warm gratitude confest, +Which had reveal'd the spark of life divine, + That slumber'd in my earth-enamoured breast. + +Had I, as friendship and self-love desir'd, + Still suck'd delirium at the fane of praise, +I might, my conscience lull'd and passions fir'd, + Have lost my soul in the bewitching blaze. + +Dear rising train, let not my words offend! + Nor the pure dictates of my love despise; +To one, late like yourselves, attention lend, + And, taught by his experience, be wise! + +Ah! banish from your eye the fiend Disdain; + Let fair simplicity supply its place; +Nor longer let conceit the bosom stain; + The child of weakness, follow'd by disgrace. + +Should time from you each glowing beauty wrest, + You will not then those self-reproaches feel, +Which every eye awaken'd in my breast, + And twenty winters scarce suffic'd to heel. + +Nor will your friends observe each faded charm, + Since still your countenance its smile retains, +And the same lov'd companion, kind and warm, + With unassuming manners, yet remains. + + +SEPT. 8, 1795. + + + + +ON A FAN. + + +Now I've painted these flowers, say what can I do, +To render them worthy acceptance from you? +I know of no sybil, whose wonderful art +Could to them superior virtues impart, +Who, of magical influence wonders could tell, +And, who over each blossom could mutter a spell. + +You only the humbler enchantments can prove, +That arise from esteem, from respect, and from love; +With such I assail you, and pow'rful the charm, +When applied to a heart sympathetic and warm; +To a heart such as that, which, if right I divine, +O C--ll--n--n! dwells in that bosom of thine. + +NOV. 10, 1795. + + + + +TO SIMPLICITY. + + +Fair village nymph, ah! may I meet + Thy pleasing form where'er I stray! +With open air and converse sweet, + Still cheer my undiscover'd way! + +With eyes, that shew the placid mind, + And with no feign'd emotions roll; +With mien, that sprightly or resign'd, + Bespeaks the temper of the soul. + +With smiles, where not the lips alone + Receive a brighter, vermil hue, +The cheek does warmer roses own, + And the eyes beam, a deeper blue! + +Though Fashion's minions scorn thy pow'r, + And slight thee, 'cause in russet drest, +Yet Joy frequents thy peaceful bow'r, + And sorrow flies to thee for rest. + +The echoing laugh, the rapturous tear, + The smile of friendship, gay and free, +Delight but when they are sincere, + And given, lovely nymph, by thee. + +When my Rosina reads a tale, + Though sweet the tuneful accents flow, +No studied pathos does prevail + To bid the hearer's bosom glow; + +Her voice to sympathy resign'd, + Each different feeling can impart. +And, tell me not, we e'er can find + A modulator, like the heart! + +And Mary's locks of glossy brown, + That fall in waves, with graceful swell, +In ever-varying ringlets thrown, + The fairest curls of art excel. + +Still rob'd in innocence and ease, + Daughter of Truth, shall thou prevail, +When Affectation cannot please, + And all the spells of Fashion fail. + + +NOV. 17, 1795. + + + + +THE TERRORS OF GUILT. + + +Yon coward, with the streaming hair, +And visage, madden'd to despair, +With step convuls'd, unsettled eye, +And bosom lab'ring with a sigh, +Is _Guilt!_--Behold, he hears the name, +And starts with horror, fear, and shame! + +See! slow Suspicion by his side, + With winking, microscopic eye! +And Mystery, his muffled guide, + With fearful speech, and head awry. + +See! scowling Malice there attend, +Bold Falsehood, an apparent friend; +Avarice, repining o'er his pelf, +Mean Cunning, lover of himself; +Hatred, the son of conscious Fear, +Impatient Envy, with a fiend-like sneer, +And shades of blasted Hopes, which still are hovering near! + +All other woes will find relief, +And time alleviate every grief; +Memory, though slowly, will decay, +And Sorrow's empire pass away. +Awhile Misfortune may controul, +And Pain oppress the virtuous soul, +Yet Innocence can still beguile +The patient sufferer of a smile, +The beams of Hope may still dispense +A grateful feeling to the sense; +Friendship may cast her arms around, +And with fond tears embalm the wound, +Or Piety's soft incense rise, +And waft reflection to the skies; +But those fell pangs which he endures, +Nor Time forgets, nor Kindness cures; +Like Ocean's waves, they still return, +Like Etna's fires, forever burn. + +Round him no genial zephyrs fly, +No fair horizon glads his eye, +No joys to him does Nature yield, +The solemn grove, or laughing field; +Though both with loud rejoicings ring, +No pleasure does the echo bring, +Not bubbling waters as they roll, +Can tranquillize his bursting soul, +For Conscience still, with tingling smart, +Asserts his empire o'er his heart, +And even when his eye-lids close, +With clamourous scream affrights repose. + +Oppress'd with light, he seeks to shun +The splendid glories of the sun; +The busy crowds that hover near, +Torment his eye, distract his ear; +He hastens to the secret shades, +Where not a ray the gloom pervades; +Where Contemplation may retreat, +And Silence take his mossy seat; +Yet even there no peace he knows, +His fev'rish blood, no calmer flows; +Some hid assassins 'vengeful knife, +Is rais'd to end his wretched life. +He shudders, starts, and stares around, +With breathless fright, to catch the fancied sound; +Seeks for the dagger in his breast, +And gripes it 'neath his ruffled vest. + +Lo! now he plunges in the flood, +To cleanse his garments, stain'd with blood, +His sanguine arm, in terror, laves; +But ah! its hue defies the waves. +Deprest, bewildered, thence he flies, +And, to avoid Detection, tries, +Who, frowning, still before him stands, +The sword of Justice in her hands; +Abhorrent Scorn, unpitying Shame, +And Punishments without a name, +Still on her sounding steps attend, +And every added horror lend. +He turns away, with dread and fear, +But the fell spectres still are near. +Though Falsehood's mazes see him wind! +Yet Infamy is close behind, +Lifting her horn, with horrors fraught, +Whose hideous yell is frenzy to the thought. + +Now, maniac-like, he comes again, +And mixes with the jocund train; +But still those eyes that wildly roll, +Bespeak the tempest in his soul. +In yon deep cave he strives to rest, +But Mem'ry harrows up his breast; +He clasps the goblet, foe to Care, +And lo! Distraction hovers there. + +Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to know, +The sad varieties of woe; +Where'er thy footsteps turn, to meet, +An earthquake yawning at thy feet, +While o'er thy head pale meteors glare, +And boding tempests fill the air, +In throbbing anguish doom'd to roam, +Yet never find a peaceful home. +Haste! to the shrine of Mercy hie, +There lift the penitential eye, +With breaking heart thy sins deplore, +And wound Integrity no more! +Repentance then thy soul shall save, +And snatch thee, ransom'd, from the grave. + +JULY 1796. + + + * * * * * + +_The death of Selred, last King of the East-Saxons, reduced that part +of the Heptarchy to dependance on Mercia. The rest is imaginary_. + + * * * * * + + + + +CEN'LIN, PRINCE OF MERCIA. + + +When Britain many chiefs obey'd, +And seven Saxon princes sway'd, +The Mercian monarch, fam'd afar, +In peace respected, fear'd in war, +Favour'd by heav'n above the rest, +In his brave son was fully blest; +For none like Cen'lin did arise, +So virtuous, elegant, and wise. + +Of partial Mercian eyes the joy, +His parents idoliz'd the boy; +Saw with just pride each op'ning grace, +His charms of mind, of form, and face. +And as he oft, with modest air, +His thoughts and feelings did declare, +His father would delighted hear, +Would fondly drop the grateful tear; +And proudly cast his eyes around, +But not an equal could be found. +Warm from each lip applauses broke, +And every tongue his praises spoke; +The list'ning courtiers spread his fame, +And blessings follow'd Cen'lins name. + +Now twenty summer's suns had flown, +And Mercia's hopes were fully blown; +When ah! conceal'd in coarse disguise, +To Selred's[12] court their darling flies. +Selred, his father's scorn and hate, +Became the ruler of his fate. +There flatter'd, lov'd, the youth remain'd, +Till Cenulph's threats his heir regain'd. +But ah! no more the son of mirth, +His pensive eye now sought the earth; +No more within the dance to move, +Or list to sages, did he love; +But from surrounding friends would fly, +To pour in solitude the sigh. +And soon again the youth withdrew, +Again to th' Eastern-Saxons flew. +His father heard, opprest with woe, +His aged heart forgot to glow; +He learnt his foes an army led, +With youthful Cen'lin at their head, +He call'd his warriors forth to meet, +And stretch the rebel at his feet: +Tears from his eyes in anguish broke, +As thus the aged monarch spoke: + +"Ye Mercians, let your banners fly! +The graceless youth this day shall die! +For, since he dares an army bring +Against his father and his king, +Though dear as life, I will not spare, +Nor listen to affection's pray'r! +If all my people should implore, +I'll pardon the rash boy no more! +His harden'd heart, to duty blind, +No ties of gratitude can bind; +This hoary head would else have rest, +And pleasure warm this aching breast. +Ah, cruel youth! thy wrongs I feel, +More deep than wounds of pointed steel. +For, if forlorn the parent's doom, +Who bears his offspring to the tomb, +Some comfort still his breast may know, +Some soothing thought may calm his woe, +And when he gives a loose to pain, +He feels not that he mourns in vain, +But fancies still his darling nigh, +And grateful for each bursting sigh, +Still bending o'er, with list'ning ear, +Each weeping, fond complaint to hear, +The dear-lov'd phantom hovers round, +And pours a balm in every wound. + +"How doubly poignant is my smart, +Bereaved of my Cen'lin's heart! +Exil'd from that deluded breast, +Where I had fondly hop'd to rest, +With faith undoubting, sweet repose, +Till Death should bid my eye-lids close. +And sometimes yet will hope arise; +Till now he ever scorn'd disguise; +Some cursed fiend might taint his youth, +And warp a temper form'd for truth. +When late he humbly knelt for grace, +And clasp'd my knees in close embrace, +Upon his lips a secret hung, +But something seem'd to stay his tongue; +I prest not, for my anger slept, +And fondness only saw he wept; +Ah! fatal haste! then had I known +The serpent, I had sav'd my son! +Yet surely pardon frank as mine, +A noble heart would more confine! +When leaguing with my bitter foe, +To strike some grand, decisive blow; +Perhaps to rob me of my throne, +And make it, ere the time, his own; +Or, should wan guilt a danger dread, +To humble this devoted head, +Each throbbing pang of conscience drown, +And seize, with bloody hands, the crown. +O'er this offence I cast a veil, +And fondly hush'd the whisper'd tale. +Ah fool! deluded by the grace, +Of that fine form, and perfect face; +I thought his bosom free from sin, +Nor dreamt a demon lurk'd within. +His voice, which ever could controul, +Each passion of the hearer's soul, +With ease my partial heart beguil'd, +Who knew no sorrows when he smil'd. +And ah! my friends, your downcast eyes, +Your pensive air, and smother'd sighs, +All tell me you lament the fate, +Of him, whom yet you cannot hate. +And shall I bear then to behold, +That form inanimate and cold, +His smiling lips depriv'd of breath, +His eyes for ever clos'd in death! +Ah no! my heart with anguish swells, +And every throbbing vein rebels. +Let sorrow weep, or anger thrill, +Yet all the parent triumphs still. + +"Oh Father! who in mercy reigns, +If thy all-ruling will ordains, +That my unhappy Cen'lin dies, +Remove the picture from my eyes! +At the same moment set us free, +Both rebel sons, my God, to thee!" +Thus did the king pour forth his pray'r, +With all the wildness of despair; +Then, stilling every rising sigh, +He calm'd the anguish of his eye, +And though within the burthen lay, +He wip'd the falling tears away. + +When lo! there comes a youthful train, +Descending swiftly to the plain, +Drest like the fairest sons of day, +In floating robes and colours gay; +No crested helmets there appear, +No glittering shield or pointed spear, +But youths with honey-suckles crown'd, +Or their fair locks with fillets bound, +Whose circling ranks and varied dyes, +Shew'd like the bow, that gilds the skies. +Whilst in the van a pair were seen, +Of peerless charms and graceful mien; +One lovely form the Mercians knew, +And gladden'd at the pleasing view, +Who, with the glow of youthful prime, +Had all the majesty of time. +And beauteous was the fair he led, +As any fabled Grecian maid; +The nymphs who tend Aurora's car, +And usher in the morning star, +Though made inhabitants of air, +Were not more elegant and fair; +Nor Dian's ever-healthful train, +When skimming o'er the spacious plain. +Had not more pure, more lively dyes, +Or brighter lustre in their eyes. + +The king, so late by woe deprest, +Felt hope reanimate his breast, +And as his Cen'lin nearer drew, +His waking hopes more vivid grew. +"My friends," he cried, "will you believe, +That open mien can e'er deceive? +That blooming form can e'er unfold, +A heart ungenerous and cold, +That melting softness of the eye, +Can harbour direst cruelty? +Ah no! a poison's baleful pow'r, +Lurks not beneath so fair a flow'r. +Nor are those youths with amber hair, +Such as fell treason would prepare, +An aged monarch to dethrone, +And hear, unmov'd, a father's groan. +Gay are their looks, no dark disguise, +Dims the mild radiance of their eyes; +No murderous thoughts their souls employ, +But, heralds of transporting joy, +They come to bid suspicion cease, +And sooth my sorrow into peace." +Caution could scarce awhile controul +The strong delights of Cenulph's soul, +When Cen'lin knelt, and by his side +Half-kneeling, bent his lovely bride. +But, when he first essay'd to speak, +A hasty blush pass'd o'er his cheek, +He hung awhile his graceful head, +Till thus, with air confus'd he said: +"I come, by love with honours crown'd, +Yet sorrow casts a shade around, +That when my consort here I bring, +The heiress of a potent king, +The Mercians, clad in armour, come, +To lead their princess to her home. +No joyful hail our nuptial greets, +No proof of love my Ela meets, +But scarlet banners, waving high, +The bridal knot and wreath supply. +Alas! I see mistrust has won +E'en Cenulph's fondness from his son; +Or could my ever-honour'd sire, +A proof of Cen'lin's faith require? +Can force so needful now appear, +To aid a pow'r which I revere? +When eager beauty's form to view, +I first to Selred's court withdrew, +A single wish thy pow'r maintain'd, +A single wish thy son regain'd. +I left the maid whose matchless charms, +Each rooted prejudice disarms, +Who rul'd my heart with sovereign sway, +And taught a Mercian to obey +Laws that East-Saxons can impart, +When wit and beauty string the dart; +Left her when hope my doubts beguil'd, +And on our love her father smil'd. +Oft have I tried to win thine ear, +The fond, romantic tale to hear, +But when I found a lonely hour, +My coward soul has lost the pow'r; +As on my lips the accents hung, +Thy hate to Selred check'd my tongue. +Yet flattering hopes my passion fed, +And from thy court again I fled; +I thought when you my fair beheld, +And knew how greatly she excell'd, +In every charm, each art refin'd, +And virtue of the female mind, +Thy judgment would approve my choice, +And bless it with a cheerful voice. +And ah! though fortune did combine +With love, in making Ela mine, +I cannot from a grief refrain, +Remembering that I gave thee pain. +Yet if thy Cen'lin e'er could please, +If e'er my cares could give thee ease, +Let mild affection now arise, +And beam forgiveness from thine eyes! +No more thy son shall make thee know +A pain, or give thee cause of woe. +No nights the Mercians have to fear, +For all I love is center'd here," +He spoke, and o'er his father's soul, +A stream of healing comfort stole; +He rose, with slow, majestic grace, +Tears of delight adorn'd his face, +His pious heart with rapture glow'd, +And joy a second youth bestow'd. + +"To meet thee thus, my son," he cried, +"This peerless maiden for your bride, +Bids each distressing thought depart, +And joy again possess my heart. +Fair princess, thine the happy fate, +To heal the wounds of mutual hate; +No longer shall this bosom know, +An Eastern-Saxon as my foe; +And she, who bids that passion rest, +Doubt not, shall be supremely blest; +The part is holy and benign, +Befitting such a form as thine. +This day, far dearer than before, +Kind heav'n does twice my son restore, +For by those speaking looks I see, +Another valued child in thee." + +As then he raised them to his breast, +Around the joyful Mercians prest, +And made their shouts of triumph rise, +To the fair concave of the skies. + +OCTOBER 1795. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 12: King of the East-Saxons.] + + + + +RHAPSODY. + + +Lo! here a cloud comes sailing, richly clad +In royal purple, which the parting beams +Of bounteous Phoebus edge with tints of gold +And lucid crimson. One might fancy it +A noble bird, that laves its graceful form, +And bathes its rosy bosom in the light. +Look! how it swells and rears its snowy crest +With haughty grandeur; while the blue expanse, +In smiling patience lets the boaster pass, +And swell his train with all the lazy vapours +That hover in the air: an easy prey +To the gigantic phantom, whose curl'd wing, +Sweeps in these worthless triflers of the sky, +And wraps them in his bosom. Go, vain shadow! +Sick with the burthen of thy fancied greatness, +A breath of zephyr wafts thee into nothing, +Scatters thy spreading plumes, uncrowns thy front, +And drives thee downward to thy mother earth, +To mix with vapour and dissolve in dew. + +Such are the dreams of hope, which to the eye +Of youthful inexperience, seem to touch +The pure, unclouded sky of certainty. +Buoy'd up by the fond eloquence of thought, +And nurtur'd by the smile of vanity, +Each hour the air-born vision gathers bulk, +And Fancy decks it with a thousand hues, +Varied and wild, till it abounds in charms +Which sink the soul to sadness, when the breath +Of gentle Reason breaks the beauteous bubble, +And leaves us nought but vain regret behind. + + +FEBRUARY 1, 1797. + + + + +HUMAN PLEASURE OR PAIN. + + +When clouds and rain deform the sky, + And light'nings glare around, +Amidst the dreary, cheerless scene, + Some comfort may be found. + +There will, at some far-distant spot, + A streak of light appear, +Or, when the sullen vapours break, + The ether will be clear. + +And if the sun illumes the east, + And sheds his gladsome ray, +Some boding mist, or passing cloud + Will threat the rising day. + +The heart rejoicing in the view, + And dancing with delight, +Oft feels the touch of palsied fear, + And sinks at thought of night. + +So Hope's bright torch more clearly shines, + Amidst surrounding gloom, +And, beldame Fortune vainly throws + Her mantle o'er the tomb. + + +MARCH 15,1797. + + + + +THE COMPLAINT OF FANCY. + +To A.R.C. + + +As, musing, late I sat reclin'd, +And waking dreams absorb'd my mind, +A damsel came, of various dyes, +Like painted Iris from the skies; +A purfled saffron was her vest, +And sweet gum-cistus form'd her crest; +In many a playful ring, her hair +Flew light and flossy in the air; +The mantle, blue and gold, she wore, +A rose of opals held before, +While, graceful in her fairy hand, +Appear'd a crimson-tufted wand, +Whose shade on every object threw +A glowing tint of roseate hue. + +"Whence art thou, blooming nymph?" I cried, +And thus a tuneful voice replied: +"Men call me Fancy; at my shrine +Myriads confess my power divine; +There painters bend the willing knee, +And laurell'd poets sue to me: +For mine is every vivid ray, +Which partial Nature gave the day; +And, to the music of my song, +A thousand nameless charms belong. + +"The friend of Happiness, I dwell +Belov'd alike in court or cell; +Where Glory lifts her ardent eye, +With hasty, kindred zeal I fly, +In sun-beams place the hero's form, +And bid his arm command the storm; +On swelling clouds an altar raise, +And fan the tow'ring flame of praise. + +"Oft, from the lorn enthusiast's lyre, +My fingers strike etherial fire, +And give to sounds of piercing woe, +Extatic rapture's fervent glow. +Oft sooth the maniac's throbbing vein, +And grace her simple, wilder'd strain; +The tribe of Pain in fetters keep, +Lull wounded Memory to sleep, +And, in the mind of gloomy Care, +Bid Thought an angel's semblance wear. + +"Dear to each blest aerial pow'r, +E'en Wisdom calls me to her bow'r; +My songs her leisure hours beguile, +And teach her holy lip to smile. +And, when the Muse, with thoughtful care, +Has woven chaplets for her hair, +I let her, with her myrtles, twine, +Full many a fragrant rose of mine. + +"Then why, since all the wise and gay, +To me a grateful homage pay, +Since I to all my hand extend, +And, liberal, every heart befriend, +Does Nancy from the croud retire, +And rend my blossoms from her lyre? +Though every string the loss bewail, +And tones of mellow sweetness fail, +Which us'd to charm the pensive ear, +When list'ning Friendship bent to hear. + +"Tell her I wish not to intrude +Upon her sacred solitude, +Nor cast my undulating chain, +Around her glowing heart again; +No! every claim I now resign, +Yet let some small regard be mine; +Let one, who nurs'd her infant years, +And wip'd away some bitter tears, +Still animate the scenes around, +And make her tread on fairy ground; +Give playful sweetness to each lay, +And decorate the passing day. + +"Tell her, if now she scorns my strain, +She may invoke my name in vain; +In vain my proffered aid implore, +Contemn'd, I hardly pardon more." + +She said, and springing from the earth, +Attending found her suitor Mirth, +Who caught her hand, with lively air, +And plac'd her in his silver chair, +Which through the yielding ether flew, +And quickly bore them from my view. + + + + +ON THE EVE OF DEPARTURE FROM O---- + + +Loud beats the rain! The hollow groan + Of rushing winds I hear, +That with a deep and sullen moan, + Pass slowly by the ear. + +Soon will my dying fire refuse + To yield a cheerful ray, +Yet, shivering still I sit and muse + The latest spark away. + +Ah, what a night! the chilly air + Bids comfort hence depart, +While sad repining's clammy wings + Cling icy, to my heart. + +To-morrow's dawn may fair arise, + And lovely to the view; +The sun with radiance gild the skies, + Yet then--I say adieu! + +Oh, stay, dear Night, with cautious care, + And lingering footsteps move, +Though day may be more soft and fair, + Not her, but thee, I love. + +Stay, wild in brow, severe in mien, + Stay! and ward off the foe; +Who, unrelenting smiles serene, + Yet tells me I must go. + +Forsake these hospitable halls, + Where Truth and Friendship dwell, +To these high towers and ancient walls, + Pronounce a long farewell. + +Alas! will Time's rapacious hand, + These golden days restore? +Or will he suffer me to taste + These golden days no more? + +Will he permit that here again, + I turn my willing feet? +That my glad eyes may here again, + The look of kindness meet? + +That here I ever may behold, + Felicity to dwell, +And often have the painful task + Of sighing out farewell? + +Ah, be it so! my fears I lose, + By hope's sweet visions fed; +And as I fly to seek repose, + She flutters round my bed. + + +NOV. 17, 1796. + + + + +TO M.I. + + +Thou, Margaret, lov'st the secret shade, + The murmuring brook, or tow'ring tree; +The village cot within the glade, + And lonely walk have charms for thee. + +To thee more dear the jasmine bow'r, + That shelt'ring, undisturb'd retreat, +Than the high canopy of pow'r, + Or Luxury's embroider'd seat. + +More sweet the early morning breeze, + Whose odours fill the rural vale, +The waving bosom of the seas, + When ruffled by the rising gale. + +Than all which pride or pomp bestow, + To grace the lofty Indian maid, +Who prizes more the diamond's glow, + Than all in humbler vest array'd. + +Sweet is the rural festive song, + Which sounds so wildly o'er the plain, +When thoughtless mirth the notes prolong, + And heart-felt pleasure pours the strain. + +Sweet is the dance where light and gay, + The village maiden trips along; +Her simple robe in careless play, + As her fleet step winds round the throng. + +Sweet is the labourer's blazing fire, + When evening shades invite to rest; +Though weary, home does joy inspire, + And social love dilates his breast. + +His rural lass with glee prepares, + The dainties fondness made her hoard; +Her husband now the banquet shares, + And children croud around the board. + +Ah! who could wish to view the air + Of listless ease and languid wealth? +Who with such pleasures could compare + The joys of innocence and health? + + +AUGUST 20, 1796. + + + + +CANTATA. DEL METASTASIO. + + +"D'atre nubi è il sol ravvolto, + Luce infausta il Ciel colora. + Pur chi sa? Quest' alma ancora + La speranza non perdè. + +Non funesta ogni tempesta + Co' naufragj all' onde il seno; + Ogni tuono, ogni baleno + Sempre un fulmine non è." + + + + +TRANSLATION. + + +Dark, mournful clouds hang o'er the sun, + Lights gleam portentous in the air, +And yet who knows? This troubled heart + Still gives not up to blank despair. + +Not big with shipwrecks every storm, + That sweeps the bosom of the main, +Nor does the threatening, turbid sky, + Always the thunder-bolt contain. + + + + +LA FORTUNA. DELLO STESSO. + + +A chi serena io miro, + Chiaro è di notte il cielo: + Torna per lui nel gelo + La terra a germogliar. + +Ma se a taluno io giro + Torbido il guardo, e fosco, + Fronde gli niega il bosco, + Onde non trova in mar. + + + + +TRANSLATION. + + +To him whom kindly I behold, + The midnight sky is clear, +And 'mid the wintry frost and cold, + The blushing flowers appear. + +But to the wretch who meets my eye, + When kindled by disdain, +The very grove will leaves deny, + And waveless be the main. + + + + +CANTATA DELLO STESSO. + + +Finchè un zeffiro soave + Tien del mar l'ira placata, + Ogni nave + È fortunata, + È felice ogni nocchier; + +È ben prova di coraggio + Incontrar l'onde funeste, + Navigar fra le tempeste, + E non perdere il sentier. + + + + +TRANSLATION. + + +Whilst zephyr sooths the angry waves + Of Ocean into rest, +Each vessel is in safety borne, + And every pilot blest. + +But he indeed demands our praise, + Who stems the tempest's force, +And midst the ire of hostile waves, + Pursues his destin'd course. + + + + +SONETTO. + +DI GIOVANNI DELLA CASA. + + +Oh sonno, oh della cheta, umida, ombrosa + Notte placido figlio; oh de' mortali + Egri conforto, oblio dolce de' mali, + Sì gravi, ond' è la vita aspra, e nojosa: +Soccorri al core omai, che langue, e posa + Non have; e queste membra stanche, e frali + Solleva: a me ten vola, oh sonno, e l'ali + Tue brune sovra me distendi, e posa. +Ov' è il silenzio, che'l dì fugge, e'l lume? + E i lievi sogni, che con non secure + Vestigia di seguirti han per costume? +Lasso, che'nvan te chiamo, e queste oscure, + E gelide ombre invan lusingo; oh piume + D'asprezza colme; oh notti acerbe, e dure! + + + + +SONNET, TO SLEEP. + +TRANSLATION. + + +Son of the silent, dark, and humid Night, + Consoler of the wretched, by whose sway +The gloomy train of ills are put to flight, + That blacken Life's uncertain, tedious day, + +O! succour now this restless, pining heart! + Give to these feeble, weary limbs repose! +Fly to me, Sleep! and let thy sombre wings + Over my couch their dusky plumes disclose! + +O! where is Silence, who avoids the light? + Where the wild dreams that flutter in thy train? +Alas! in vain I call thee, cruel Night! + And flatter these insensate shades in vain. + +And oh! without thy cheering dews are shed, +How full of hardships is the downy bed! + + + + +EDITHA. + + +Breathing the violet-scented gale, + Near to a river's limpid source, +Which, through a wide-extended vale, + Wound slowly on its sleeping course, + +Attended by a youthful pair, + With rubied lip and roving eye, +Oft would fair Editha repair, + And let her children wander nigh. + +There pleas'd behold their footsteps turn, + To each new object in their way, +Their ringlets glittering in the sun, + Their faces careless, blythe, and gay. + +Once, when they drest their flaxen hair, + With flow'rets wild of various hue, +And with a proud, exulting air, + To their delighted parent drew: + +"Ah! thus may every day arise! + And pleasure thus your hearts, pervade!" +The widow'd mother fondly cries, + "Before the youthful blossoms fade. + +"My sighs are all dispers'd in air, + Resign'd to fate, I weep no more, +Your welfare now is all my care, + Yet am I constant as before. + +"The world, because a vermil bloom, + Tinges my yet unfading cheek, +Says I forget my William's tomb, + A new and earthly love to seek. + +"Because I join the social train, + With lip that wears a kindred smile; +And a gay sonnet's lively strain, + Does oft the lonely hour beguile: + +"Because no longer now I mourn, + With sweeping robes of sable hue; +No more I clasp the marble urn, + Or vainly bid the world adieu. + +"Ah! ill my secret soul they know, + Where my lost hero still remains, +Where memory makes my bosom glow, + And binds me still in closer chains. + +"Whoe'er hath seen my William's form, + Heighten'd with every martial grace, +The ever-varying, unknown charm, + Which beam'd in his expressive face; + +"Or heard his fine ideas try, + In Fancy's fairy garb to teach, +While the sweet language of his eye, + Excell'd the eloquence of speech, + +"Could ne'er suppose my faith would fail, + Or aught again this heart enslave; +That absence would o'er love prevail, + Or hope be bounded by the grave. + +"Could all but I his merit know? + His wit and talents see? +And is his name by all below + Remember'd, but by me? + +"No, ne'er will I the memory lose, + Though from my sight thy form is flown, +Of tenderness for other's woes, + And noble firmness in thy own. + +"No slavish fear thy soul deprest, + Of Death, or his attendant train; +For in thy pure and spotless breast, + The fear of heav'n did only reign. + +"Thus, when the still-unsated waves + Spread o'er thy head their whelming arms, +When horrid darkness reign'd around, + And lightnings flash'd their dire alarms, + +[13]"When, wing'd with death, each moment flew, + And blood the foaming ocean stain'd, +Thy courage cool, consistent, true, + Its native energy maintain'd. + +"And when the fatal moment came, + The bullet enter'd in thy side, +Only thy spirit's beauteous frame, + Its prisoner flying, droop'd and died. + +"This is it that consoles my mind, + Which to my love aspiring flies, +And makes me hope, in future days, + To hail my William in the skies. + +"Should tears from my pale eyelids steal, + I teach my children's how to flow, +And make their little bosoms feel, + Before their time, the touch, of woe. + +"I will not weep! the world shall see + That I a nobler tribute pay; +More grateful both to heaven and thee, + By guiding them in virtue's way." + +Embracing then her fondest cares, + She cast her raptur'd eyes above, +And breath'd to heav'n emphatic pray'rs, + Of mingled reverence and love. + +APRIL 15, 1795. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 13: I know not if I have expressed myself with much clearness +here, but I meant to describe a sea-fight as concisely as possible.] + + + + +TO M.I. + + +Light breezes dance along the air, + The sky in smiles is drest, +And heav'ns pure vault, serene and fair, + Pourtrays the cheerful breast. + +Each object on this moving ball + Assumes a lovely hue; +So fair good-humour brightens all + That comes within her view. + +Her presence glads the youthful train, + Reanimates the gay, +And, round her, by the couch of pain, + The light-wing'd graces play. + +Her winning mein and prompt reply, + Can sullen pride appease; +And the sweet arching of her eye + E'en apathy must please. + +To you, with whom the damsel dwells + A voluntary guest, +To you, Maria, memory tells, + This tribute is addrest. + +The feeble strains that I bequeath, + With melody o'erpay; +And let thy lov'd piano breathe + A sweet responsive lay. + +Although the mellow sounds will rise, + So distant from my ear, +The charmer Fancy, when she tries, + Can make them present here. + +Can paint thee, as with raptur'd bend, + You hail the powers of song; +When the light fingers quick descend, + And fly the notes along: + +Feel the soft chord of sadness meet, + An echo in the soul, +And waking joy the strains repeat, + When Mirth's-quick measures roll. + +This "mistress of the powerful spell," + Can every joy impart; +And ah! you doubtless know too well + How she can wring the heart. + +She rules me with despotic reign, + As now I say <I>adieu_; +And makes me feel a sort of pain, + As if I spoke to you. + + +FEB. 14, 1797. + + + + +WRITTEN IN ZIMMERMANN'S SOLITUDE. + + +Hail, melancholy sage! whose thoughtful eye, +Shrunk from the mere _spectator's_ careless gaze, +And, in retirement sought the social smile, +The heart-endearing aspect, and the voice +Of soothing tenderness, which Friendship breathes, +And which sounds far more grateful to the ear, +Than the soft notes of distant flute at eve, +Stealing across the waters: Zimmermann! +Thou draw'st not Solitude as others do, +With folded arms, with pensive, nun-like air, +And tearful eye, averted from mankind. +No! warm, benign, and cheerful, she appears +The friend of Health, of Piety, and Peace; +The kind Samaritan that heals our woes, +The nurse of Science, and, of future fame +The gentle harbinger: her meek abode +Is that dear home, which still the virtuous heart, +E'en in the witching maze of Pleasure's dance, +In wild Ambition's dream, regards with love, +And hopes, with fond security, to pass +The evening of a long-protracted day, +Serenely joyful, there. + + + + +IN MEMORY OF MR. AGOSTINO ISOLA, + +OF CAMBRIDGE, + +Who died on the 5th of June, 1797. + + +Awake, O Gratitude! nor let the tears +Of selfish Sorrow smother up thy voice, +When it should speak of a departed friend. +A tender friend, the first I ever lost! +For Destiny till now was merciful, +And though I oft have felt a transient pang, +For worth unknown, and wept awhile for those, +Whom long acquaintance only made me love, +No keen regret laid pining at my heart, +Nor Memory in the solitary hour, +Would sting with grief, as when she speaks +Thy virtue, knowledge, wisdom, gentleness, +Thy venerable age, and says that I +Had once the happiness to call thee friend. + +Yes! I once bore that title, and my heart +Thought nobler of itself, that one so good, +So honor'd, so rever'd, should give it me. +O _Isola!_ when that glad season comes, +Which brought redemption to a ruin'd world, +And, like thee, hides beneath the snow of age, +A gay, benevolent, and feeling heart, +I hop'd again to hear thy tongue repeat, +With youthful warmth and zealous energy, +Those passages, where Poetry assumes +An air divine, and wakes th' attentive soul +To holy rapture! Then you promis'd me +The luxury to weep o'er Dante's muse, +And fair Italia's loftier poets hail. + + I have often heard +That years would blunt the feelings of the soul, +And apathy ice the once-glowing heart. +Injurious prejudice! Dear, guileless friend! +Thou read'st mankind, but saw not, or forgot +Their faults and vices; for thy breast was still +The residence of sweet Simplicity, +Daughter of letter'd Wisdom, and the friend +Of Love and Pity. Happy soul, farewell! +Long shall we mourn thee! longer will it be, +"Ere we shall look upon thy like again!" + + + * * * * * + +This humble tribute to the memory of my venerated friend, was written in +the first impulse of my sorrow for his loss, and though unworthy of his +virtues, is still a small memorial of my respect for a man, on whose +tomb might justly be inscribed, as I have seen on an old monument: + + + "Heven hath his soule. + He fruits of Pietie, + This Towne his want. + Our hearts his Memorie." + + + + +TO THE NUNS OF BODNEY. + + +Ye holy women, say! will ye accept +The passing tribute of a humble friend? +Stranger indeed to you and to your faith, +But O! I hope not stranger to the zeal, +Which warm'd your bosoms in Religion's cause. +When impious men commanded you to break +The vow which bound your souls, and which in youth +Warm Piety's emphatic lips had made. +Say! will ye suffer me on that rude tomb, +Where she reposes (whose benignant smile, +Whose animated, life-inspiring eye, +And faded form, majestic, still appears +In Thought's delusive hour) to shed a tear? +On her, whose sainted look, though seen but once, +I never can forget, till Time shall wrap +The veil of Death around me, and make dumb +The voice of Memory. Ah! "how low she lies!" +No marble monument to speak her praise, +And tell the world that here a DILLON rests. +One, who in beauty's prime forsook the world, +And, _self-bereav'd_ of all it holds most dear, +Retir'd, to pass the pilgrimage of life, +In solemn prayer and peaceful solitude. +Ah, vain desire! Ambition's scowling eye +Must see the cloister, as the palace, low, +And meek-ey'd Quiet quit her last abode, +Ere he can pause to look upon the wreck, +And rue the wild impatience of his hand. + +Hail! blessed spirit! This rude cypher'd stone. +On which a sister's pensive eye shall muse +In sorrow, and another relative +In sweet, though mournful, recollection, bend, +Shall call a tear into the stranger's eye +Whene'er he hears the tale, yet make him proud +That Britain's hospitable land should yield +All that you could accept, _an humble grave_. + + + + +_Written in London, on the 19th of March, 1796._ + + +A lov'd companion, chosen friend, + Does at this hour depart, +Whom the dear name of father binds + Still closer to my heart. + +On him may joy-dispensing heav'n + Each calm delight bestow, +And eas'd of peace-destroying care + His life serenely flow! + +Did I but know his bosom calm, + And free from anxious fear, +Around me in more cheerful hues + Would every scene appear. + +And I will hope that he, who ne'er + Repin'd at heav'n's decree, +But ever patient and resign'd, + Submissive bent the knee: + +Who, best of fathers, never sought + For arbitrary sway, +But free within each youthful mind, + Bade Reason lead the way. + +Who taught us, 'stead of servile fear, + A warm esteem to prove, +And bade each act of duty spring, + From gratitude and love. + +Yes, I must hope that generous mind + With many cares opprest, +Shall in the winter of his days + With sweet repose be blest. + + + * * * * * + +_A friend, a year or two ago, gave me_ Joseph's Reconciliation with +his Brethren, _as a subject to write upon; but I was afraid of not +treating it in such a manner as a sacred story deserved, and gave up +the attempt, when I had written little more than the following lines, +to account for their not knowing him, although he well remembered them; +and am persuaded to let them appear here_. + + * * * * * + + + + +FRAGMENT. + + + * * * * * + +They, ere he left them, had attain'd their prime +And were less alter'd by the hand of Time; +But, the slim youth no longer met their view, +Fair, as the fancy e'er a seraph drew. +Who still, upborne by joy, in smiles was found, +With step elate that scarcely press'd the ground. +Before a grief had raz'd his youthful breast, +Or care had robb'd his brilliant eyes of rest. +When lofty visions swam before his sight, +And dreams of empire wrapt his soul at night. +Whose hair luxuriant flow'd in glossy pride, +And, from his snowy forehead, wav'd aside; +Which, vein'd with purest azure, rose serene, +And threw complacence o'er a rapturous mien. +The wandering light that sparkled in his eye, +The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye, +The speaking form, by each emotion sway'd, +The voice, that softest music had convey'd, +Were now matur'd. No more the child they saw, +But one, with majesty, inspiring awe; +Whose silken locks no more in ringlets flow, +But gold and purple bind his manly brow: +No more the envied robe his limbs invest, +In all the pomp of eastern monarchs drest. +The sun of Egypt had embrown'd his face, +And time had ripen'd every youthful grace. + +As when the morn, in vivid colours gay, +And tender beauty, flies to meet the day, +Her lively tints lose their primeval hue, +The white and saffron mingle with the blue, +A glowing blush o'er the whole ether reigns, +But not a cloud its genuine tint retains. + + * * * * * + + + + +FRAGMENT. + + +Where yonder mossy ruins lie, +And desolation strikes the eye, +A noble mansion, high and fair, +Once rear'd its turrets in the air. +There infant warriors drew their breath, +And learn'd to scorn the fear of death. +In halls where martial trophies hung, +They listen'd while the minstrels sung, +Of pain and glory, toil and care, +And all the horrid charms of war: +There caught the fond desire of fame, +And panted for a hero's name. +Alas! too oft in youthful bloom, +Renown has crown'd the early tomb, +Has pierc'd the widow's bosom deep, +And taught the mother's eyes to weep. +She, on whose tale the stripling hung, +While pride and sorrow rul'd her tongue. +His father's gallant acts to tell, +How bold he fought, how bravely fell. + +Methinks e'en now I hear her speak, +I see the tear upon her cheek; +The musing boy's abstracted brow, +And the high-arching eye below. +The stifled sigh and anxious heave, +The kindling heart which dares not grieve; +The finely-elevated head, +The hand upon the bosom spread, +Proclaim him wrought by potent charms, +And speak his very soul in arms. + +Incautious zeal! what hast thou done? +The tale has robb'd thee of thy son. +And while thy pious tears deplore, +The loss of him who lives no more, +Ambition wakes her restless fire, +The boy will emulate his sire, + + * * * * * + + + + +_Written April the 18th, 1796_ + + +The beauteous queen of social love, +Descending from the realms above, +Through the wide space of ether flew, +With care this little world to view, +Till, tir'd with wandering, at the last, +Through every different climate past, +She sought not out a splendid dome, +But made this humble cot her home. + +The sweetest lyre would strive in vain, +To sing the pleasures of her reign, +Whose powerful influence does impart, +New softness to the feeling heart, +Bids it each narrow thought resign, +And fills it with a warmth benign. + +From morning till the close of day, +Here all a grateful homage pay, +For here she plays her harmless wiles, +And scatters her endearing smiles; +Here no proud rivals intervene, +And all, though glowing, is serene. +Here, since she first her visit paid, +Still has the sweet enchantress staid, +And never met a single slight, +Or spread her snowy plumes for flight. + +Contented 'neath the humble roof; +No timid heart is kept aloof; +A kind and condescending guest, +She lightens each despairing breast; +Where pain her poignant venom spreads, +The balm of tenderness she sheds, +Which breathes a calm repose around, +And heals at last the burning wound. + +When the heart throbs with bitter woe, +Her winning mien disarms the foe, +And the kind glances of her eye, +Force the desponding power to fly. +She gives a zest to every joy, +Forbids tranquillity to cloy, +Softens misfortune, chases fear, +And balm distills in every tear. +'Tis she alone can make us know, +A truly blissful hour below, +Can smooth the furrow'd brow of life, +And hush the thundering voice of strife. + +O, may she still exert her power, +Still lead us to the rural bower, +Which vaunting Pride does ne'er disgrace, +Or critic Envy's spiteful face. +Here Raymond ever shall delight, +To sit and watch the closing night; +And open-hearted Gertrude here, +With her sweet infant shall appear. +Here oft her brother shall prepare, +A wreath for Mary's curling hair; +While soft-voic'd Anna, fond of play, +And all the train, alert and gay, +In healthful games shall frolic round, +And revel on the mossy ground. + +Here Edmund shall forget his care, +And often fill an elbow chair; +While Sophia, friendly and sincere, +Shall ever find a welcome here. + +Yet would my hovering fancy trace, +The features of each happy face; +And sympathy informs my mind, +That they the same emotions find; +That in each scene of harmless glee, +Memory recalls the absent three: +And all, though distance strives to part, +Will hold communion in the heart. + + + +FINIS. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11193 *** diff --git a/11193-h/11193-h.htm b/11193-h/11193-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9e4d65f --- /dev/null +++ b/11193-h/11193-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6614 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Elegies and Other Small Poems, by Matilda Betham</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + + p { text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 0em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: 0em; } + p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 66%; } + PRE { font-family: Courier, monospaced; } + p.poem2 { text-indent: 2em; } + p.poem4 { text-indent: 3em; } + + </style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11193 ***</div> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h1> + ELEGIES AND OTHER SMALL POEMS + </h1> + <p class="center"> + <b>BY MATILDA BETHAM.</b> + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + + <p> + + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>To the Hon. LADY JERNINGHAM</i>. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>Madam</i>, + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>The many endearing instances of regard I have experienced + since I had the honor of being known to your Ladyship, while + they impress my mind with gratitude, flatter my hopes with a + favourable reception of the following miscellanies, which, + under your patronage, I venture to submit to the public</i>. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>Considered as the first essays of an early period of life, + and as the exercises of leisure, my wishes suggest, that they + may not, perhaps, be found wholly unworthy of attention; but + whatever be their fate with others, I shall feel myself much + gratified, if, in your Ladyship's judgment, they may be + allowed some merit</i>. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>Though there cannot be a greater pleasure than dwelling on + the excellencies of a distinguished and amiable character, I + know not that it would be permitted me to indulge my present + inclination with enumerating those virtues and endowments + which confessedly distinguish your Ladyship, but my wishes I + may offer, and that you may long, very long, continue to + bless your family, to adorn your rank, and console the + unhappy, is the sincere prayer of</i> + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>Your Ladyship's most obliged humble servant, MATILDA + BETHAM</i>. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>Stonham, Nov. 20, 1797.</i> + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + TO THE READER. + </h2> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + If, in the following pages, there may be found any + unacknowledged imitations, I hope I shall not be censured as + an intentional plagiarist; for it has been my wish, however I + may be esteemed presumptuous, not to be unjust; and I + sometimes fear lest an imperfect recollection of another's + idea should have appeared to me as a dawning thought of my + own. Wherever I could recollect a similar passage, although + unnoticed at the time I wrote, it has been either altered or + acknowledged. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + I commit these trifles to the press with the anxiety + necessarily resulting from a desire that they may not be + deemed altogether worthless. Though the natural partiality of + the writer may be somewhat strengthened by the commendations + of friends and parents, I am well aware that no apology can + give currency to imperfection. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + I have not vainly attempted to ascend to the steeps of + Parnassus. If, wandering at its foot, I have mistaken + perishable shrubs for never-dying flowers, the errors of a + youthful mind, first viewing the fascinating regions of + fancy, will not be rigidly condemned; for wherever there is + true taste, there will be genuine candour. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + CONTENTS. + </h2> + <table summary="Table of Contents" cellpadding="7"> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> + <hr /> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_1">To ——, with Arthur and + Albina</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_1a">Arthur and Albina</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_2">The Fraternal Duel</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_2a">Lines in a Letter to A.R.C.</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_3">The Lonely Walk</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_4">The Outlaw</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_5">Invitation</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_6">Whitsun-Monday</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_7">Philemon</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_8">On a Fan</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_9">To Simplicity</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_10">The Terrors of Guilt</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_11">Cen'lin, Prince of Mercia</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_12">Rhapsody</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_13">Human Pleasure or Pain</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_14">The Complaint of Fancy</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_14a">On the Eve of Departure from + O——</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_15">To M.I.</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_16">Translation from Metastasio</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_22">—— from Della Casa</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_24">Editha</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_25">To M.I.</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_26">Written in Zimmermann's + Solitude</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_27">To the Memory of Mr. Agostino + Isola</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_28">To the Nuns of Bodney</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_29">Fragment</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_30">Fragment</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_31">Written April 18, 1796.</a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> + <hr /> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_1"><!-- RULE4 1 --></a> + To —— WITH ARTHUR and ALBINA. + </h2> + <p class="center"> + 1794. + </p> + + <p class="noindent"> + Ah! if your eye should e'er these lines survey,<br/> + Dismiss from thence its penetrating ray:<br/> + Let Criticism then her distance keep,<br/> + And dreaded Justice then be lull'd to sleep;<br/> + For, let whatever sentence be their due,<br/> + I feel I cannot censure bear from you. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr /> + <p class="center"> + <i>A British Maid awaits the arrival of her lover from the + battle, on a hill, where, at its commencement, she had + retired to make vows to heaven for his + success.—Evening</i>. + </p> + <hr /> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_1a"><!-- RULE4 1a --></a> + ARTHUR and ALBINA. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Ah me! the yellow western sky turns pale, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And leaves the cheerless sons of earth to mourn; + </p> + <p> + And yet I hear not in the silent vale, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A sound to tell me Arthur does return. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah, haste ye hours! quick plume the loit'ring wing! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Bring back my hero, crown'd with glorious spoils! + </p> + <p> + Let bards on lofty harps his triumphs sing, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And loud applause repay successful toils! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Reward the flame, ye great celestial pow'rs, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The noble flame that in his bosom glows! + </p> + <p> + Inspire him, Druids, from your holy bow'rs, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With strength to conquer iron-breasted foes!<a href="#note-1">1</a> + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With heighten'd vigour brace his nervous arm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And let his lance with ten-fold fury fly, + </p> + <p> + Make him terrific by some potent charm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And add new lightening to his piercing eye! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Then may my lover gain unrivall'd fame, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The Roman banners may less proudly flow, + </p> + <p> + Then he may humble their detested name, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And their high plumes wave o'er' a British brow! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Then may his chariot,<a href="#note-2">2</a> wheeling + o'er the plain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Hurl death and desolation all around, + </p> + <p> + While his intrepid front appals their train, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And make our proud invaders bite the ground! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But yet I hear no lively foot advance; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No sound of triumph greets my list'ning ear!' + </p> + <p> + And I may carve this eagle-darting lance + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + For one, whose voice I never more shall hear! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Perhaps my vows have never reach'd the skies, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor heav'n, propitious, smil'd upon my pray'r; + </p> + <p> + And ah! to morrow's crimson dawn may rise + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To plunge me in the horrors of despair! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Yet well he knows the dreadful spear to wield— + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Alas! their fearful limbs are fenc'd with care: + </p> + <p> + And, what can valour, when th'extended + shield<a href="#note-3">3</a> + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + May leave, so oft, his gen'rous bosom bare? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Say, reverend Druids, can you bless in vain? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Can you in vain extend your spotless hands? + </p> + <p> + Will not heav'n listen when its priests complain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And save its altars from unhallow'd bands? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh yes! I'll fear no more! The sacred + groves,<a href="#note-4">4</a> + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That rear their untouch'd branches to the skies; + </p> + <p> + Beneath whose shade its chosen servant roves, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Hidden from weak, unconsecrated eyes: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Beneath whose shade the choral bards rehearse, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Piercing, with uprais'd eyes, each mist that shrouds, + </p> + <p> + And, listening, catch the heav'n-dictated verse, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By airs etherial wailed from the clouds: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + It ne'er can be—but hark! I hear the sound + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of some one's step; yet not the youth I love; + </p> + <p> + He would have flown, and scarcely touch'd the ground, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Not ling'ring thus, with weary caution, move. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The heavy wanderer approaches nigh, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + But the drear darkness skreens him from my views + </p> + <p> + Ah, gracious heav'n! it was my Arthur's sigh, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which the unwilling breeze so faintly blew. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh speak! inform me what I have to fear! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Speak, and relieve my doubting, trembling heart! + </p> + <p> + To thy Albina, with a tongue sincere, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A portion of thy wretchedness impart!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Sweet maid," replied the wounded, dying youth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In accents mournful, tremulous and slow, + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I will ever answer thee with truth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + While yet the feeble tide of life shall flow. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + We made the haughty Roman chiefs retire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The tow'ring, sacrilegious eagle<a href="#note-5">5</a> + flew; + </p> + <p> + Our bosoms swell'd with more than mortal fire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When from the field indignant they withdrew. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But ill bespeaks my faint and languid tongue, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The glowing beauties of that joyful sight; + </p> + <p> + Ill can my breast, with keenest torture wrung, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Dwell on the charming terrors of the fight. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + To others then I leave the envied strain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which shall for ages rend the British air; + </p> + <p> + Nor will thy partial ear expect, in vain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To find the humble name of Arthur there. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + I go, while now the victory is warm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The just reward of valour to obtain; + </p> + <p> + Soon I return, clad in a nobler form,<a href="#note-6">6</a> + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Again to triumph, and again be slain. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah! then, my dear Albina, cease to grieve, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor at thy lover's glorious fate repine; + </p> + <p> + For, though my present favour'd form I leave, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + This constant heart shall still be only thine. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Alas! e'en now I feel the icy hand + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of hasty death, press down my swelling heart; + </p> + <p> + E'en now I hear a sweet aerial band, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Summon thy faithful Arthur to depart. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Let not thy tears an absent lover mourn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Remember that he bravely, nobly died; + </p> + <p> + Remember that he quickly will return, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And claim again his lov'd, his destin'd bride." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + As thus the warrior's fainting spirits fled, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And parting life streamed forth at every vein, + </p> + <p> + His quivering lip, in whispers, softly said, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + "Remember, Arthur dies to live again!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Oh stay, dear youth!" the hapless maiden cries, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + My best-lov'd Arthur, but one moment stay! + </p> + <p> + And close not yet those all-enlivening eyes, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + So lately lighted at the torch of day. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah! yet once more, that look of tender love, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of fond regret, my Arthur, let me view! + </p> + <p> + Let one more effort thy affection, prove, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And bid me once, once more, a long adieu. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Now, ere the moon withdraws her feeble light, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Ope yet again on me thy fading eye! + </p> + <p> + He hears not! memory has ta'en her flight, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And vanish'd with that last convulsive sigh. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Why did I variegated wreaths prepare, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To pay the conqueror every honor due? + </p> + <p> + Or, why, with fillets, bind my flowing hair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And tinge my arms of the bright azure hue?<a href="#note-7">7</a> + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! must this constant bosom beat no more? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + This skilful hand no more direct the spear? + </p> + <p> + Must lost Albina still her fate deplore, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And ever drop the unavailing tear? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Must I no more that lovely face review, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Expressing each emotion of the mind? + </p> + <p> + No more repeat a sweetly sad adieu? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No more gay chaplets on his forehead bind? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + His forehead, high and fair, with martial grace, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And bold, free curls of glossy chesnut crown'd; + </p> + <p> + The full, dark eye-brow which adorn'd his face, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + O'erwhelming foes with terror as he frown'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + His voice, though strong, harmoniously clear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No more shall fill Albina with delight; + </p> + <p> + No more shall sooth her still-attentive ear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And make her fancy every sorrow light. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Farewell to love, to happiness, and joy! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Yet will I cull the summer's choicest bloom; + </p> + <p> + Funereal chaplets shall my time employ, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And wither daily on my Arthur's tomb." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + As thus she mourn'd, with bitterest woe opprest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A ray of light illumin'd all the grove, + </p> + <p> + And a consoling voice the fair addrest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In the soft accents of parental love. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Though still she clasp'd her hero's valued corse, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + She slowly rais'd her languid, streaming eyes, + </p> + <p> + And own'd astonishment's resistless force, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Viewing the stranger with a wild surprize. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The form was clad in robes of purest white, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That swept with solemn dignity the ground; + </p> + <p> + Contrasting with the blackest gloom of night, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which reign'd in awful majesty around. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The silver beard did reverence demand,<a href="#note-8">8</a> + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And told her that a holy bard was there, + </p> + <p> + Whose shrivell'd fingers grasp'd a flaming brand, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which threw a lustre on the waving hair. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + His eye possess'd the brilliant fire of youth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + United with the wisdom of the sage; + </p> + <p> + And speaking, with the simple voice of truth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + He blended the solemnity of age. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Arise! thou loveliest of misfortune's train, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And cease these weak, desponding tears to shed; + </p> + <p> + The soft effusions of thy grief restrain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which serve but to disturb the peaceful dead. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The youth you mourn, far from these scenes of woe, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To worlds of never-ending joy is flown; + </p> + <p> + Where his blest bosom with delight shall glow, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And his fair temples wear a princely crown. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah then, presumptuous! question not the skies, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor more with vain laments his loss deplore; + </p> + <p> + Attend to this, and cease your fruitless sighs, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + You soon shall meet where you can part no + more."<a href="#note-9">9</a> + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Awe-struck, his sacred wisdom she confest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which pour'd sweet consolation on her mind; + </p> + <p> + She cross'd her blood-stain'd hands upon her breast, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And bow'd her humble, grateful head, resign'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + AUGUST 27, 1794. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="note-1"><!-- Note Anchor 1 --></a>1: Alluding to the + armour of the Romani. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-2"><!-- Note Anchor 2 --></a>2: The Britons + fought in low chariots, which they could leave and re-ascend + at pleasure. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-3"><!-- Note Anchor 3 --></a>3: The shield + being their only armour, when held out to protect a wounded + or dying friend, left them defenceless. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-4"><!-- Note Anchor 4 --></a>4: The groves were + consecrated to the celebration of religious mysteries. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-5"><!-- Note Anchor 5 --></a>5: The Roman + standard. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-6"><!-- Note Anchor 6 --></a>6: The Druids are + said to have preached the doctrine of transmigration, in + order to inspire their warriors with the greater contempt of + death. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-7"><!-- Note Anchor 7 --></a>7: The practice of + staining themselves with blue was common among the Britons. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-8"><!-- Note Anchor 8 --></a>8: The people, + excepting the priests, shaved off all the hair from their + faces, but what grew on the upper lip. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-9"><!-- Note Anchor 9 --></a>9: This equivocal + manner of speech may be supposed natural enough in one of + this order of priests, who, it is said, held a more refined + idea of a future state than they preached to the people. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr /> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Alas! no more that joyous morn appears + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + That led the tranquil hours of spotless fame; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + For I have steep'd a father's couch in tears, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p style="text-align: right;"> + SHENSTONE. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr /> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_2"><!-- RULE4 2 --></a> + THE FRATERNAL DUEL. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + 'Oh! hide me from the sun! I loath the sight! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I cannot bear his bright, obtrusive ray: + </p> + <p> + Nought is so dreadful to my gloom as light! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nothing so dismal as the blaze of day! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + No more may I its sparkling glories view! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No more its piercing lustre meet my eye! + </p> + <p> + On night's black wings my only comfort flew; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + At breath of morn I sicken and I die. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Where can I fly? In what sequester'd clime + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Does darkness ever hold her ebon reign? + </p> + <p> + Where woeful dirges measure out the time, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And endless echoes breathe the sullen strain. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Where dreary mountains rear their low'ring heads, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To pierce the heavy and umbrageous clouds; + </p> + <p> + And where the cavern dewy moisture sheds, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And night's thick veil the guilty mourner shrouds. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + There, lost in horrors, I might vent my sighs; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To open misery myself resign; + </p> + <p> + Might snatch each torturing vision ere it flies, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And feast on prospects desolate as mine. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! let me thither quickly take my flight, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And chuse a favourite and a final seat, + </p> + <p> + In scenes which would each gentler mind affright, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + But for my guilt affords a fit retreat. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + There, where no ray, no gleam of light could come, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + There, and there only, could I find relief; + </p> + <p> + There might I ruminate on Edward's doom, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lose myself in luxury of grief. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And, as it is, though joys around me shine, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though pleasure here erects her dazzling brow, + </p> + <p> + Wrapt in despondence, will I droop and pine, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And tears of anguish shall for ever flow. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh Edward! could'st thou see this alter'd frame, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which youthful graces lately did adorn! + </p> + <p> + Could'st thou behold, and think me still the same, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thy once gay friend, thus hapless and forlorn? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The cheek, so late by ruddy health embrown'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Now pale and faded with incessant tears; + </p> + <p> + The eye, which once elate, disdain'd the ground, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Now sunk and languid in its orb appears. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! never, never will I cease to grieve! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And sure repentance pardon may obtain! + </p> + <p> + Can woe unfeign'd incite heav'n to relieve + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A wretch opprest with agonizing pain? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah no! my hands are stain'd with brother's blood! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A father's curses load my sinking head! + </p> + <p> + I wish to die, but dare not pass the flood, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + For there, as well as here, my hopes are fled. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Sleep, which was meant to chase away the thought, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To lull the sound of dissonant despair, + </p> + <p> + Appears to me with added terrors fraught, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And my torn heart can find no refuge there. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + If, for a moment, I its fetters wear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And its soft pressure these pale eyes controul, + </p> + <p> + I injur'd Emma's just reproaches hear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or Edward's form appals my shrinking soul. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When in those transitory sleeps I lie, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I oft his beauteous, bleeding form review; + </p> + <p> + A mild, benignant lustre lights his eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + As come to bid a friend a last adieu. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + I start, I shudder at his tuneful voice, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When it, in soothing whispers, meets my ear; + </p> + <p> + That sound, which oft has made my heart rejoice, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I now all-trembling and affrighted hear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Was it thy fault, dear, much-lamented youth + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + If lovely Emma did thy suit prefer? + </p> + <p> + She saw thee form'd of tenderness and truth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And kings might glory to be lov'd by her. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Thy native sweetness won her artless heart; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And well our different characters she knew; + </p> + <p> + Whilst thy mild looks did happiness impart, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + She saw the murderer in each glance I threw. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Yet for this, meanly, did I thee upbraid, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And basely urg'd an elder brother's right; + </p> + <p> + Then, calling impious passion to my aid, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Forc'd thee, unwilling, to the fatal fight. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! ne'er shall I forget the dreadful hour, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I sheath'd my weapon in thy noble breast; + </p> + <p> + Thy dying hand clasp'd mine, with feeble pow'r, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And to thy mangled bosom fondly prest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Whilst o'er thee, I, in speechless anguish hung, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thou saw'st the wild distraction of my eye; + </p> + <p> + And, though the chills of death restrain'd thy tongue + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thy bosom heav'd a sympathetic sigh. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With cruel tenderness my friends contriv'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To bear me from the drear, polluted shore; + </p> + <p> + Of every joy, of peace itself depriv'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which this despairing breast shall know no more. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Since this what frenzy has inspir'd my mind! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + My tortur'd mem'ry cannot it retrace; + </p> + <p> + No relique now of former days I find, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + But horrors, which e'en madness can't efface. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + My dearest brother, and my tenderest friend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + O come, and save me from this dark abyss! + </p> + <p> + Draw hence the darts which my rack'd bosom rend! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And bear me with you to the realms of bliss! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah! whence that pang which smote my shuddering heart? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Where now, for refuge, can lost Anselm fly? + </p> + <p> + 'Tis Death! I know him by his crimson dart! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And, am I fit? Oh heav'ns! I cannot die! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + My spirit is not form'd for rapid flight; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + It cannot cut the vast expanse of air, + </p> + <p> + No, never can it reach the realms of light, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + For sin, a weight immoveable, lies there!' + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Thus wretched Anselm rav'd: unhappy youth! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though passion hurried thee so far astray, + </p> + <p> + Thy infant soul ador'd the God of Truth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And virtue usher'd in thy vernal day. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! had he learn'd his passions to restrain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And let cool reason in his breast preside, + </p> + <p> + His op'ning wisdom had not bloom'd in vain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor had he, ere the prime of manhood, died. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Yet, if remorse could expiate his guilt, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + If the worst sufferings could the crime erase, + </p> + <p> + If tears could wash away the blood he spilt, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Then Anselm's penitence obtain'd him grace. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + AUGUST 20, 1794. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3><a name="RULE4_2a"><!-- RULE4 2 --></a> + IN A + </h3> + <h2> + LETTER to A.R.C. + </h2> + <h3> + ON HER WISHING TO BE CALLED<br/> + ANNA. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Forgive me, if I wound your ear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By calling of you Nancy, + </p> + <p> + Which is the name of my sweet friend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The other's but her fancy. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah, dearest girl! how could your mind + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The strange distinction frame? + </p> + <p> + The whimsical, unjust caprice, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which robs you of your name. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + <i>Nancy</i> agrees with what we see, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A being wild and airy; + </p> + <p> + Gay as a nymph of Flora's train, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Fantastic as a fairy. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But <i>Anna's</i> of a different kind, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A melancholy maid; + </p> + <p> + Boasting a sentimental soul, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In solemn pomp array'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh ne'er will I forsake the sound, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + So artless and so free! + </p> + <p> + Be what you will with all mankind. + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + But <i>Nancy</i> still with me. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_3"><!-- RULE4 3 --></a> + THE LONELY WALK, + </h2> + <h3> + To W.S.B. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + When the grey evening spreads a calm around, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Tell me, has thy bewilder'd fancy sought, + </p> + <p> + Retir'd in some sequestered spot of ground, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Rest, from the labour of eternal thought? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When, wrapt in self, the soul enjoys repose, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The wearied brain resigns its fervent heat, + </p> + <p> + In dream-like musing every care we lose, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And wind our way with slowly-moving feet. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oft, to indulge the thought-exploded sigh, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When, slowly wandering at the close of day, + </p> + <p> + Light emanations from th'abstracted eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With transient beauty in the sun-beams play, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Thy sister seeks the solitary shade. + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Her mind inhaling the aerial gloom, + </p> + <p> + Sees, not-observing, the fair landscape fade, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And sullen mist usurping day-light's room. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Not her's the feelings which regret inspires, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When sorrows keen have made the spirits low; + </p> + <p> + Adversity has damp'd the youthful fires, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And all the tears that fall are tears of woe. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah no! possessing every social bliss, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I cannot, will not at my fate repine; + </p> + <p> + Or ask for happiness excelling this, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When such a world of treasures now are mine! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And, when the melancholy grove I seek, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Scarce can my palpitating heart controul, + </p> + <p> + While silent tears are trembling on my cheek, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The flood of pleasure swelling in my soul. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But soon my too-elated thoughts are calm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The tumults of the mental chaos cease; + </p> + <p> + A soft oblivion the rais'd senses charm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lull to a reflecting, soothing peace. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Hail, sweet enhancements of the languid mind! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Whose calm reposes restless worldlings scorn; + </p> + <p> + But from whose aid recruited strength we find, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And waken, lively as the bird of morn. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And thou, lov'd boy, in whose congenial breast, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I doubt not but those sentiments reside; + </p> + <p> + For we, our thoughts, our actions have confest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + As much in hearts as persons are allied; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Hail thou, my brother! may thy steps be led + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By heav'nly wisdom through this world of care, + </p> + <p> + And gain the realms for which our Saviour, bled! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor pain, nor lassitude await us there. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + OCTOBER 13, 1794. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr /> + <p class="center"> + <i>The first Percy, who came over with William the Conqueror, + married a Saxon lady, called Emma de Port, said to have been + the daughter of the last Saxon Earl of Northumberland, whose + possessions had been given to him (Lord William de Percy) for + his services</i>. + </p> + <p class="center"> + <i>I have taken the liberty of supposing this lady to have + had a brother.</i> + </p> + <hr /> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_4"><!-- RULE4 4 --></a> + THE OUTLAW. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Before the fair Aurora spread + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Her azure mantle o'er the skies, + </p> + <p> + While sleep its pleasing influence shed, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + On grateful mortals weary eyes, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Emerg'd from a surrounding wood, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + On a bleak mountain's sullen brow, + </p> + <p> + A solitary outlaw stood, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And view'd, through mist, the world below. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With deep regret his bosom fraught, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + His arms were wreath'd in sorrow's knot<a href="#note-10">10</a>; + </p> + <p> + Nor seem'd he yet, by patience taught, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To bear submissively his lot. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Hidden was each enlivening grace; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Deprest by his untimely doom; + </p> + <p> + A hectic flush o'erspread his face, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Instead of nature's florid bloom. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Untutor'd in the school of grief, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + His pining spirit spoke in sighs; + </p> + <p> + Though almost hopeless of relief, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + He look'd around with eager eyes; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And fondly bent an anxious ear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To the slow murmuring of the breeze, + </p> + <p> + Essaying oft, in vain, to hear + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A friendly step beneath the trees. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Delusive wish!" at last he cried, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + "Why wilt thou fill my aching breast? + </p> + <p> + And thus my miseries deride, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By telling how I might be blest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No kind consolers hither bend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By sympathy to ease my care; + </p> + <p> + Here comes no ever-faithful friend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Who yet might shield me from despair. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "The abbey's well-known tow'r I seek, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + It fades from my impassion'd eye; + </p> + <p> + The fancied outlines softly break, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And melt into the distant sky. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No pitying object now remains, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That I may know those scenes are near, + </p> + <p> + Where generous love and friendship reigns, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And Alwin's name may claim a tear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And you, my lov'd paternal groves, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Where I no more must shew my head; + </p> + <p> + In your fair walks a stranger roves, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And treacherous Normans daily tread! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "E'en now their presence may prophane + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The halls where Herbert did reside! + </p> + <p> + E'en now may joy and gladness reign, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And Adelaide be Percy's bride. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Yet no! her soul, the seat of truth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Would ne'er a second love receive! + </p> + <p> + The sacred vows of artless youth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Her Alwin ever shall believe! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "They still shall comfort my sad heart, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And sooth the anguish of my mind; + </p> + <p> + Shall still a cheering hope impart, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And make me somewhat more resign'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ah! yet I hear her trembling hand, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Withdraw the bolt to set me free! + </p> + <p> + Yet hear the hasty, kind command, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + My Alwin fly, and live for me! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No other can obtain my love! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I would for thee the world resign! + </p> + <p> + Then let thy prompt obedience prove + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That thou art truly, wholly mine." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And ever to her promise true, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No pleasure shall her soul elate, + </p> + <p> + For, yet her constant thoughts pursue + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A wretched Outlaw's hapless fate! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "In vain proud Ranulph<a href="#note-11">11</a> shall + upbraid, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + My Adelaide is still the same! + </p> + <p> + And, for thy sake, dear, lovely maid, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I will not curse the Norman name! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Not, though my father's large domains, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Are plunder'd by the murderous bands; + </p> + <p> + And my Northumbria's fertile plains, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Lie wasted by their cruel hands; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Though, as a son, I mourn the fate + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of those, to whom my life I owe; + </p> + <p> + And hate the hearts that thus create + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The dimness of severest woe; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Though I behold no friendly steel, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To give my Emma vengeance, drawn; + </p> + <p> + And though a brother's pangs I feel, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To know her destitute, forlorn; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Though, banish'd from the sight of day, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In dreary solitude I pine; + </p> + <p> + And, forc'd to feel a tyrant's sway, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Each dear paternal right resign; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Yet will I seal my lips; nor dare + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To extricate my haughty foes: + </p> + <p> + The hateful, guilty root I spare, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which can produce so fair a rose. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "But thou, my heart, wilt thou be calm? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Oh! tell me, can reflection cease; + </p> + <p> + And this fond bosom, now so warm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Be ever tranquilliz'd to peace! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ah, no! a father's scornful eye + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Is ever present to my view; + </p> + <p> + And tells me, Herbert dar'd to die, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though Normans could his son subdue. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Each feeble plea his soul disdains, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + They cannot for the fault atone; + </p> + <p> + Though, when I left Northumbria's plains, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I had not fifteen summers known. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And hear me, Herbert, when I swear + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + It was not fear that urg'd my flight; + </p> + <p> + A worthless life was not my care, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I thought but of a parent's right. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Then pardon that my youth comply'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To ease a mother's anxious fears + </p> + <p> + That, when I rather would have died, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I yielded to a sister's tears. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Alas! a peasant's humble shed, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Soon saw our sainted parents' death, + </p> + <p> + Who, while our hearts in anguish bled, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With pious hopes resign'd her breath. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "When mists foretel the ev'ning near, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And clouds of chilling dew arise, + </p> + <p> + We sought the grave of her so dear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And offer'd there our tears and sighs. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "'Till mild reflection lent her aid, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And bade our filial sorrows cease; + </p> + <p> + The fever of our souls allay'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + We sunk into a mournful peace. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "My pensive bosom strove to keep + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A dying mother's last request; + </p> + <p> + I let the thoughts of vengeance sleep, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And studied to make Emma blest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No longer shunning of the dawn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or seeking the sequester'd shade, + </p> + <p> + I call'd my sister to the lawn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And trod with her the flow'ry glade. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Submitting to our wayward fate, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I talk'd not of the treasures flown; + </p> + <p> + But still seem'd easy and sedate, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + While pressing verdure not my own. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Then all I wish'd, and all I fear'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Was by fraternal love inspir'd; + </p> + <p> + And one, by every tie endear'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The only friend my soul desir'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Yet soon that pleasing calmness fled, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A Norman beauty won my heart, + </p> + <p> + Imperious love my footsteps led, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And bade all secrecy depart. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "I own'd the splendour of my race, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Altho' a peasant's form I bore; + </p> + <p> + I fancied silence was disgrace, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And hid my sentiments no more. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Her father's tongue my fate decreed, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And doom'd great Herbert's son to shame; + </p> + <p> + For, tho' by love from prison freed, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I bear an outlaw's hateful name. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "My sister no fond friend can shield, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No relative allay her grief; + </p> + <p> + For tyranny all hearts hath steel'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And nought can give her soul relief. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "With ev'ry quality to charm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A guardian will not heaven allow, + </p> + <p> + To screen thy artless youth from harm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And, fair deserted! help thee now! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No aid, no comfort, can be nigh! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And shall thy brother here remain? + </p> + <p> + Has he not fortitude to fly, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And burst the heavy, servile chain? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Why should I linger here alone, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Unseen by every human eye? + </p> + <p> + To live unfriended and unknown, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And in this dreary desart die. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "For now the sun-beams gild the sky, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And give the misty morning grace, + </p> + <p> + Far from the light I'm doom'd to fly, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Abandon'd by the human race. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "But no! I'll bear suspense no more! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Too dear a price to purchase breath; + </p> + <p> + I'll seek the scenes I yet deplore, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And meet a welcome, wish'd-for, death." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Tortur'd to frenzy, Alwin flew, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And as he left his sad retreat, + </p> + <p> + He, turning, look'd a last adieu, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And shook the dew-drops from his feet. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + His hurried steps nor press'd the ground, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor pointed out the path he came; + </p> + <p> + And, though so long the way he found, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Despair buoy'd up his fainting frame. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The sun shot forth a feeble ray, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + But hid his glorious orb from sight, + </p> + <p> + And the pale evening's modest grey, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Had soften'd the too-glaring light, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When Alwin reach'd the humble cot, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That once he did with Emma share, + </p> + <p> + And, weeping, hail'd the well-known spot, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In vain, for Emma was not there. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Repuls'd, he turn'd his languid eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Where Ranulph's lofty turrets rose; + </p> + <p> + And, heaving disappointment's sigh, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + He sought the mansion of his foes. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + His faltering step, when there he came, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A proud, disdainful air possest; + </p> + <p> + Memory recall'd his former shame, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And indignation fill'd his breast. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + He enter'd, in his wild attire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With hasty pace and haggard brow, + </p> + <p> + Scorn fill'd his azure eye with fire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And gave his cheeks a deeper glow. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + A graceful knight who met his view, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Sat pleading by a lady's side; + </p> + <p> + And Alwin's jealous bosom knew + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Lord Percy, and his fated bride. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Mistaken youth! thy eyes have seen, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The persons pictur'd in thy mind; + </p> + <p> + But who is that, with pensive mien, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And forehead on her hand reclin'd? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + O'er whom Lord Ranulph fondly bends, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With sorrow seated on his brow; + </p> + <p> + While the regretting tear descends + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + O'er his pale cheek, in silent woe. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ah! is it thus?" sad Alwin said, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The fancied bride the accents knew, + </p> + <p> + Lord Percy rais'd his drooping head, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lovely Emma met his view. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Then rapture and surprize prevail'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Each bosom felt confus'd delight; + </p> + <p> + While his return the mourner hail'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And thus his sorrows did requite. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "O, dearest Alwin, now no more + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + My father disapproves our flame; + </p> + <p> + No longer we thy loss deplore, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or tremble to pronounce thy name. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "A noble friend has gain'd our cause, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And vanquish'd all his former hate; + </p> + <p> + Who, ere he own'd a lover's laws, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With generous tears had wept thy fate." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Yes, injur'd youth," Lord Ranulph cried, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + "Thou art this day my chosen heir; + </p> + <p> + In Adelaide behold thy bride, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thy sister's future husband, there. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Lord Percy, to a candid mind, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Unites a fervour like thy own; + </p> + <p> + And Emma, not to merit blind, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Refers his cause to thee alone. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "If thou wilt grant his fond desire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + 'Twill gain a brave, a noble friend; + </p> + <p> + And the possessions of thy sire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To his posterity descend." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And did my Emma stay to hear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Her brother sanctify her choice? + </p> + <p> + Ah Percy! now you need not fear + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + From Alwin, a dissenting voice. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Blest in my love, in Emma blest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + My heart each cherish'd wish obtains; + </p> + <p> + Northumbrians, now no more opprest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Shall own a son of Herbert reigns. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "May ye rebuild the peasant's cot, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Exalt the woe-depressed head, + </p> + <p> + And o'er each desolated spot, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The fostering calm of quiet spread! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "May sterne reserve and caution cease! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With lenient hand dispense your sway; + </p> + <p> + Give them the healing balm of peace, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Their wounded spirits will obey. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ah! cheer their gloom! dispel their care! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The smile will soon replace the tear; + </p> + <p> + And, wedded to a Saxon fair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The foreign lord no more appear." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + 1794. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="note-10"><!-- Note Anchor 10 --></a>10: "Wreathing + his arms in this sad knot."—SHAKESPERE'S TEMPEST. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-11"><!-- Note Anchor 11 --></a>11: Lord of + Cumberland. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_5"><!-- RULE4 5 --></a> + INVITATION, + </h2> + <h3> + To J.B.C. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Now spring appears, with beauty crown'd,<br/> + And all is light and life around,<br/> + Why comes not Jane? When friendship calls,<br/> + Why leaves she not Augusta's walls?<br/> + Where cooling zephyrs faintly blow,<br/> + Nor spread the cheering, healthful glow.<br/> + That glides through each awaken'd vein,<br/> + As skimming o'er the spacious plain,<br/> + We look around with joyous eye,<br/> + And view no boundaries but the sky. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Already April's reign is o'er,<br/> + Her evening tints delight no more;<br/> + No more the violet scents the gale,<br/> + No more the mist o'erspreads the vale;<br/> + The lovely queen of smiles and tears,<br/> + Who gave thee birth, no more appears;<br/> + But blushing May, with brow serene,<br/> + And vestments of a livelier green,<br/> + Commands the winged choir to sing,<br/> + And with wild notes the meadows ring. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + O come! ere all the train is gone,<br/> + No more to hail thy twenty-one;<br/> + That age which higher honor shares,<br/> + And well becomes the wreath it wears.<br/> + From lassitude and cities flee,<br/> + And breathe the air of heav'n, with me. + </p> + <p class="center"> + MAY 5, 1795. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3><a name="RULE4_6"><!-- RULE4 6 --></a> + WRITTEN ON + </h3> + <h2> + WHITSUN-MONDAY, + </h2> + <p class="center"> + 1795. + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + At an open window sitting, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + On this day of mirth and glee, + </p> + <p> + 'Cross a flow'ry vista flitting, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Many passing forms I see. + </p> + <p> + Ah! lovely prospect, stay awhile! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And longer glad my doating eye, + </p> + <p> + With poverty's delighted smile, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lighten'd step, as passing by; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With labour's spruce and ruddy train, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Deck'd out in all their best array, + </p> + <p> + Who, months of toil and care disdain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Paid by the pleasures of a day. + </p> + <p> + The village girl still let me view, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Hast'ning to the neighb'ring fair; + </p> + <p> + Her cap adorn'd with pink or blue, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And nicely smooth her glossy hair. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With sparkling eye and smiling face, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Ting'd o'er with beauty's warmest glow; + </p> + <p> + With timid air, and humble grace, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With clear and undepressed brow. + </p> + <p> + Go! lovely girl, and share the day, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To thy industrious merit due; + </p> + <p> + There join the dance, or choral lay; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thou blooming, village rose, adieu! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And thou, O youth, so blythe and free, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Bounding swiftly o'er the plain, + </p> + <p> + Go, taste the joys of liberty, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And cheer thy spirit, happy swain! + </p> + <p> + How different to the lonely hour, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When slowly following the plough, + </p> + <p> + Self-buoyant joy forgets the pow'r, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which warms thy gladden'd bosom now. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + If some rural prize desiring, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or ambitious of applause, + </p> + <p> + Loud huzzas thy wishes firing, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thy steady hand the furrow draws; + </p> + <p> + Ne'er a victor fam'd in story, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Greater praise and reverence drew, + </p> + <p> + Than thou, attir'd in humble glory, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + So, guiltless conqueror, adieu! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh, here a charming group appears! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A cottage family, so gay, + </p> + <p> + Whose youthful hopes, uncheck'd by fears, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In smiles of thoughtless rapture play. + </p> + <p> + Here, borne in fond, parental arms, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The infant's roving eye we view; + </p> + <p> + Boasting a thousand, thousand charms, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Endearing innocents, adieu! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + They go! no more with beating heart, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lively, dancing step to tread; + </p> + <p> + Unwillingly will they depart, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To seek again their homely shed. + </p> + <p> + Ah! Eve, I love thy veil of grey, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which will conceal them from my view, + </p> + <p> + For, bending home their weary way, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + How sad would be our last adieu! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr /> + <p class="center"> + <i>The following was suggested by reading a whimsical + description, given by Scarron, of the deformity of his + person, contrasted with its former elegance, in the + Curiosities of Literature, vol. 2, page 247</i>. + </p> + <hr /> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_7"><!-- RULE4 7 --></a> + PHILEMON. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Ye blooming youth, possest of every grace, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which can delight the eye, or please the ear, + </p> + <p> + Who boast a polish'd mind and faultless face, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Awhile the councils of Philemon hear! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Let not pride lift the thoughtless head too high, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Temerity arch o'er the scornful brow, + </p> + <p> + Contemptuous glances arm the sparkling eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or the high heart with self-complacence glow! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Alas! full soon the eve of life arrives, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though pale Disease's train approach not nigh; + </p> + <p> + Short is the summer of the happiest lives, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + If no rude storm disturbs the smiling sky. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + This wretched body, bending to the earth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Once, on the wings of health, alert and gay, + </p> + <p> + Shone forth the foremost in the train of mirth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And cloudless skies announc'd a beauteous day. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + My parents oft, with fond complacence view'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The elegance of my external form; + </p> + <p> + And thought my mind with excellence endued, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Bright as my genius, as my fancy warm. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + There was a time, poor as I now appear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I admiration met in every look; + </p> + <p> + And, harsh as now my words may grate your ear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Each tongue was silent when Philemon spoke. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Once could this voice make every bosom thrill, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + As it pour'd forth the light or plaintive lay; + </p> + <p> + And once these fingers, with superior skill, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Upon the lute could eloquently play. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + By partial friendship sooth'd, by flattery fann'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I learnt with conscious grace the dance to lead, + </p> + <p> + To guide the Phaeton with careless hand, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And rule, with flowing rein, the prancing steed. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Sick with the glory of a trifler's fame, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By folly nurtur'd, I was proud and vain; + </p> + <p> + Till Chastisement in kindest mercy came, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though then her just decrees I dar'd arraign. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The form that sought so late the public view, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That glow'd with transport, as the world admir'd, + </p> + <p> + Fill'd with false shame, from every eye withdrew, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And to the shades of solitude retir'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Consum'd by fevers, spiritless, forlorn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Blasted by apoplexy's dreadful rage, + </p> + <p> + My bleeding heart by keen remembrance torn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I past my prime in premature old age. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + I heard my parent's ill-suppressed sighs, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And wish'd myself upon the peaceful bier; + </p> + <p> + I saw the anguish of their sleepless eyes, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The smile dissembled, and the secret tear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oft, with a kind of gratifying woe, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I recollected every former charm, + </p> + <p> + And, with the spleen of a malicious foe, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Delighted still to keep my sorrows warm. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Where is the lustre of the gladsome eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The airy smile, the animated mien, + </p> + <p> + The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + So lately envied, now no longer seen. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "I too have gloried in my waving hair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No ringlets now remain to raise my pride; + </p> + <p> + Nor can I now lay the white forehead bare, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And push the too luxuriant locks aside." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Thus, like a child, I sigh'd for pleasures past, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lost my hours in a delusive dream; + </p> + <p> + But Reason op'd my blinded eyes at last, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And clear'd each mist by her refulgent beam. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + I saw futurity before me spread, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A scourge or sceptre offer'd to my view, + </p> + <p> + Alarm'd, from Folly's erring mazes fled, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And to my God with humble rev'rence drew. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + I bow'd, submissive, at the holy shrine, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + His mercy with warm gratitude confest, + </p> + <p> + Which had reveal'd the spark of life divine, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That slumber'd in my earth-enamoured breast. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Had I, as friendship and self-love desir'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Still suck'd delirium at the fane of praise, + </p> + <p> + I might, my conscience lull'd and passions fir'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Have lost my soul in the bewitching blaze. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Dear rising train, let not my words offend! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor the pure dictates of my love despise; + </p> + <p> + To one, late like yourselves, attention lend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And, taught by his experience, be wise! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah! banish from your eye the fiend Disdain; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Let fair simplicity supply its place; + </p> + <p> + Nor longer let conceit the bosom stain; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The child of weakness, follow'd by disgrace. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Should time from you each glowing beauty wrest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + You will not then those self-reproaches feel, + </p> + <p> + Which every eye awaken'd in my breast, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And twenty winters scarce suffic'd to heel. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Nor will your friends observe each faded charm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Since still your countenance its smile retains, + </p> + <p> + And the same lov'd companion, kind and warm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With unassuming manners, yet remains. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + SEPT. 8, 1795. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_8"><!-- RULE4 8 --></a> + ON A FAN. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Now I've painted these flowers, say what can I do,<br/> + To render them worthy acceptance from you?<br/> + I know of no sybil, whose wonderful art<br/> + Could to them superior virtues impart,<br/> + Who, of magical influence wonders could tell,<br/> + And, who over each blossom could mutter a spell. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + You only the humbler enchantments can prove,<br/> + That arise from esteem, from respect, and from + love;<br/> + With such I assail you, and pow'rful the charm,<br/> + When applied to a heart sympathetic and warm;<br/> + To a heart such as that, which, if right I divine,<br/> + O C—ll—n—n! dwells in that bosom of + thine. + </p> + <p class="center"> + NOV. 10, 1795. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_9"><!-- RULE4 9 --></a> + TO SIMPLICITY. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Fair village nymph, ah! may I meet + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thy pleasing form where'er I stray! + </p> + <p> + With open air and converse sweet, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Still cheer my undiscover'd way! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With eyes, that shew the placid mind, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And with no feign'd emotions roll; + </p> + <p> + With mien, that sprightly or resign'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Bespeaks the temper of the soul. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With smiles, where not the lips alone + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Receive a brighter, vermil hue, + </p> + <p> + The cheek does warmer roses own, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And the eyes beam, a deeper blue! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Though Fashion's minions scorn thy pow'r, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And slight thee, 'cause in russet drest, + </p> + <p> + Yet Joy frequents thy peaceful bow'r, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And sorrow flies to thee for rest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The echoing laugh, the rapturous tear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The smile of friendship, gay and free, + </p> + <p> + Delight but when they are sincere, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And given, lovely nymph, by thee. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When my Rosina reads a tale, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though sweet the tuneful accents flow, + </p> + <p> + No studied pathos does prevail + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To bid the hearer's bosom glow; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Her voice to sympathy resign'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Each different feeling can impart. + </p> + <p> + And, tell me not, we e'er can find + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A modulator, like the heart! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And Mary's locks of glossy brown, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That fall in waves, with graceful swell, + </p> + <p> + In ever-varying ringlets thrown, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The fairest curls of art excel. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Still rob'd in innocence and ease, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Daughter of Truth, shall thou prevail, + </p> + <p> + When Affectation cannot please, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And all the spells of Fashion fail. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + NOV. 17, 1795. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_10"><!-- RULE4 10 --></a> + THE TERRORS OF GUILT. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Yon coward, with the streaming hair,<br/> + And visage, madden'd to despair,<br/> + With step convuls'd, unsettled eye,<br/> + And bosom lab'ring with a sigh,<br/> + Is <i>Guilt!</i>—Behold, he hears the name,<br/> + And starts with horror, fear, and shame! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + See! slow Suspicion by his side, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With winking, microscopic eye! + </p> + <p> + And Mystery, his muffled guide, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With fearful speech, and head awry. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + See! scowling Malice there attend,<br/> + Bold Falsehood, an apparent friend;<br/> + Avarice, repining o'er his pelf,<br/> + Mean Cunning, lover of himself;<br/> + Hatred, the son of conscious Fear,<br/> + Impatient Envy, with a fiend-like sneer,<br/> + And shades of blasted Hopes, which still are hovering + near! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + All other woes will find relief,<br/> + And time alleviate every grief;<br/> + Memory, though slowly, will decay,<br/> + And Sorrow's empire pass away.<br/> + Awhile Misfortune may controul,<br/> + And Pain oppress the virtuous soul,<br/> + Yet Innocence can still beguile<br/> + The patient sufferer of a smile,<br/> + The beams of Hope may still dispense<br/> + A grateful feeling to the sense;<br/> + Friendship may cast her arms around,<br/> + And with fond tears embalm the wound,<br/> + Or Piety's soft incense rise,<br/> + And waft reflection to the skies;<br/> + But those fell pangs which he endures,<br/> + Nor Time forgets, nor Kindness cures;<br/> + Like Ocean's waves, they still return,<br/> + Like Etna's fires, forever burn. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Round him no genial zephyrs fly,<br/> + No fair horizon glads his eye,<br/> + No joys to him does Nature yield,<br/> + The solemn grove, or laughing field;<br/> + Though both with loud rejoicings ring,<br/> + No pleasure does the echo bring,<br/> + Not bubbling waters as they roll,<br/> + Can tranquillize his bursting soul,<br/> + For Conscience still, with tingling smart,<br/> + Asserts his empire o'er his heart,<br/> + And even when his eye-lids close,<br/> + With clamourous scream affrights repose. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oppress'd with light, he seeks to shun<br/> + The splendid glories of the sun;<br/> + The busy crowds that hover near,<br/> + Torment his eye, distract his ear;<br/> + He hastens to the secret shades,<br/> + Where not a ray the gloom pervades;<br/> + Where Contemplation may retreat,<br/> + And Silence take his mossy seat;<br/> + Yet even there no peace he knows,<br/> + His fev'rish blood, no calmer flows;<br/> + Some hid assassins 'vengeful knife,<br/> + Is rais'd to end his wretched life.<br/> + He shudders, starts, and stares around,<br/> + With breathless fright, to catch the fancied sound;<br/> + Seeks for the dagger in his breast,<br/> + And gripes it 'neath his ruffled vest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Lo! now he plunges in the flood,<br/> + To cleanse his garments, stain'd with blood,<br/> + His sanguine arm, in terror, laves;<br/> + But ah! its hue defies the waves.<br/> + Deprest, bewildered, thence he flies,<br/> + And, to avoid Detection, tries,<br/> + Who, frowning, still before him stands,<br/> + The sword of Justice in her hands;<br/> + Abhorrent Scorn, unpitying Shame,<br/> + And Punishments without a name,<br/> + Still on her sounding steps attend,<br/> + And every added horror lend.<br/> + He turns away, with dread and fear,<br/> + But the fell spectres still are near.<br/> + Though Falsehood's mazes see him wind!<br/> + Yet Infamy is close behind,<br/> + Lifting her horn, with horrors fraught,<br/> + Whose hideous yell is frenzy to the thought. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Now, maniac-like, he comes again,<br/> + And mixes with the jocund train;<br/> + But still those eyes that wildly roll,<br/> + Bespeak the tempest in his soul.<br/> + In yon deep cave he strives to rest,<br/> + But Mem'ry harrows up his breast;<br/> + He clasps the goblet, foe to Care,<br/> + And lo! Distraction hovers there. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to know,<br/> + The sad varieties of woe;<br/> + Where'er thy footsteps turn, to meet,<br/> + An earthquake yawning at thy feet,<br/> + While o'er thy head pale meteors glare,<br/> + And boding tempests fill the air,<br/> + In throbbing anguish doom'd to roam,<br/> + Yet never find a peaceful home.<br/> + Haste! to the shrine of Mercy hie,<br/> + There lift the penitential eye,<br/> + With breaking heart thy sins deplore,<br/> + And wound Integrity no more!<br/> + Repentance then thy soul shall save,<br/> + And snatch thee, ransom'd, from the grave. + </p> + <p class="center"> + JULY 1796. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr /> + <p class="center"> + <i>The death of Selred, last King of the East-Saxons, reduced + that part of the Heptarchy to dependance on Mercia. The rest + is imaginary</i>. + </p> + <hr /> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_11"><!-- RULE4 11 --></a> + CEN'LIN, PRINCE OF MERCIA. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + When Britain many chiefs obey'd,<br/> + And seven Saxon princes sway'd,<br/> + The Mercian monarch, fam'd afar,<br/> + In peace respected, fear'd in war,<br/> + Favour'd by heav'n above the rest,<br/> + In his brave son was fully blest;<br/> + For none like Cen'lin did arise,<br/> + So virtuous, elegant, and wise. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Of partial Mercian eyes the joy,<br/> + His parents idoliz'd the boy;<br/> + Saw with just pride each op'ning grace,<br/> + His charms of mind, of form, and face.<br/> + And as he oft, with modest air,<br/> + His thoughts and feelings did declare,<br/> + His father would delighted hear,<br/> + Would fondly drop the grateful tear;<br/> + And proudly cast his eyes around,<br/> + But not an equal could be found.<br/> + Warm from each lip applauses broke,<br/> + And every tongue his praises spoke;<br/> + The list'ning courtiers spread his fame,<br/> + And blessings follow'd Cen'lins name. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Now twenty summer's suns had flown,<br/> + And Mercia's hopes were fully blown;<br/> + When ah! conceal'd in coarse disguise,<br/> + To Selred's<a href="#note-12">12</a> court their + darling flies.<br/> + Selred, his father's scorn and hate,<br/> + Became the ruler of his fate.<br/> + There flatter'd, lov'd, the youth remain'd,<br/> + Till Cenulph's threats his heir regain'd.<br/> + But ah! no more the son of mirth,<br/> + His pensive eye now sought the earth;<br/> + No more within the dance to move,<br/> + Or list to sages, did he love;<br/> + But from surrounding friends would fly,<br/> + To pour in solitude the sigh.<br/> + And soon again the youth withdrew,<br/> + Again to th' Eastern-Saxons flew.<br/> + His father heard, opprest with woe,<br/> + His aged heart forgot to glow;<br/> + He learnt his foes an army led,<br/> + With youthful Cen'lin at their head,<br/> + He call'd his warriors forth to meet,<br/> + And stretch the rebel at his feet:<br/> + Tears from his eyes in anguish broke,<br/> + As thus the aged monarch spoke: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ye Mercians, let your banners fly!<br/> + The graceless youth this day shall die!<br/> + For, since he dares an army bring<br/> + Against his father and his king,<br/> + Though dear as life, I will not spare,<br/> + Nor listen to affection's pray'r!<br/> + If all my people should implore,<br/> + I'll pardon the rash boy no more!<br/> + His harden'd heart, to duty blind,<br/> + No ties of gratitude can bind;<br/> + This hoary head would else have rest,<br/> + And pleasure warm this aching breast.<br/> + Ah, cruel youth! thy wrongs I feel,<br/> + More deep than wounds of pointed steel.<br/> + For, if forlorn the parent's doom,<br/> + Who bears his offspring to the tomb,<br/> + Some comfort still his breast may know,<br/> + Some soothing thought may calm his woe,<br/> + And when he gives a loose to pain,<br/> + He feels not that he mourns in vain,<br/> + But fancies still his darling nigh,<br/> + And grateful for each bursting sigh,<br/> + Still bending o'er, with list'ning ear,<br/> + Each weeping, fond complaint to hear,<br/> + The dear-lov'd phantom hovers round,<br/> + And pours a balm in every wound. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "How doubly poignant is my smart,<br/> + Bereaved of my Cen'lin's heart!<br/> + Exil'd from that deluded breast,<br/> + Where I had fondly hop'd to rest,<br/> + With faith undoubting, sweet repose,<br/> + Till Death should bid my eye-lids close.<br/> + And sometimes yet will hope arise;<br/> + Till now he ever scorn'd disguise;<br/> + Some cursed fiend might taint his youth,<br/> + And warp a temper form'd for truth.<br/> + When late he humbly knelt for grace,<br/> + And clasp'd my knees in close embrace,<br/> + Upon his lips a secret hung,<br/> + But something seem'd to stay his tongue;<br/> + I prest not, for my anger slept,<br/> + And fondness only saw he wept;<br/> + Ah! fatal haste! then had I known<br/> + The serpent, I had sav'd my son!<br/> + Yet surely pardon frank as mine,<br/> + A noble heart would more confine!<br/> + When leaguing with my bitter foe,<br/> + To strike some grand, decisive blow;<br/> + Perhaps to rob me of my throne,<br/> + And make it, ere the time, his own;<br/> + Or, should wan guilt a danger dread,<br/> + To humble this devoted head,<br/> + Each throbbing pang of conscience drown,<br/> + And seize, with bloody hands, the crown.<br/> + O'er this offence I cast a veil,<br/> + And fondly hush'd the whisper'd tale.<br/> + Ah fool! deluded by the grace,<br/> + Of that fine form, and perfect face;<br/> + I thought his bosom free from sin,<br/> + Nor dreamt a demon lurk'd within.<br/> + His voice, which ever could controul,<br/> + Each passion of the hearer's soul,<br/> + With ease my partial heart beguil'd,<br/> + Who knew no sorrows when he smil'd.<br/> + And ah! my friends, your downcast eyes,<br/> + Your pensive air, and smother'd sighs,<br/> + All tell me you lament the fate,<br/> + Of him, whom yet you cannot hate.<br/> + And shall I bear then to behold,<br/> + That form inanimate and cold,<br/> + His smiling lips depriv'd of breath,<br/> + His eyes for ever clos'd in death!<br/> + Ah no! my heart with anguish swells,<br/> + And every throbbing vein rebels.<br/> + Let sorrow weep, or anger thrill,<br/> + Yet all the parent triumphs still. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Oh Father! who in mercy reigns,<br/> + If thy all-ruling will ordains,<br/> + That my unhappy Cen'lin dies,<br/> + Remove the picture from my eyes!<br/> + At the same moment set us free,<br/> + Both rebel sons, my God, to thee!"<br/> + Thus did the king pour forth his pray'r,<br/> + With all the wildness of despair;<br/> + Then, stilling every rising sigh,<br/> + He calm'd the anguish of his eye,<br/> + And though within the burthen lay,<br/> + He wip'd the falling tears away. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When lo! there comes a youthful train,<br/> + Descending swiftly to the plain,<br/> + Drest like the fairest sons of day,<br/> + In floating robes and colours gay;<br/> + No crested helmets there appear,<br/> + No glittering shield or pointed spear,<br/> + But youths with honey-suckles crown'd,<br/> + Or their fair locks with fillets bound,<br/> + Whose circling ranks and varied dyes,<br/> + Shew'd like the bow, that gilds the skies.<br/> + Whilst in the van a pair were seen,<br/> + Of peerless charms and graceful mien;<br/> + One lovely form the Mercians knew,<br/> + And gladden'd at the pleasing view,<br/> + Who, with the glow of youthful prime,<br/> + Had all the majesty of time.<br/> + And beauteous was the fair he led,<br/> + As any fabled Grecian maid;<br/> + The nymphs who tend Aurora's car,<br/> + And usher in the morning star,<br/> + Though made inhabitants of air,<br/> + Were not more elegant and fair;<br/> + Nor Dian's ever-healthful train,<br/> + When skimming o'er the spacious plain.<br/> + Had not more pure, more lively dyes,<br/> + Or brighter lustre in their eyes. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The king, so late by woe deprest,<br/> + Felt hope reanimate his breast,<br/> + And as his Cen'lin nearer drew,<br/> + His waking hopes more vivid grew.<br/> + "My friends," he cried, "will you believe,<br/> + That open mien can e'er deceive?<br/> + That blooming form can e'er unfold,<br/> + A heart ungenerous and cold,<br/> + That melting softness of the eye,<br/> + Can harbour direst cruelty?<br/> + Ah no! a poison's baleful pow'r,<br/> + Lurks not beneath so fair a flow'r.<br/> + Nor are those youths with amber hair,<br/> + Such as fell treason would prepare,<br/> + An aged monarch to dethrone,<br/> + And hear, unmov'd, a father's groan.<br/> + Gay are their looks, no dark disguise,<br/> + Dims the mild radiance of their eyes;<br/> + No murderous thoughts their souls employ,<br/> + But, heralds of transporting joy,<br/> + They come to bid suspicion cease,<br/> + And sooth my sorrow into peace."<br/> + Caution could scarce awhile controul<br/> + The strong delights of Cenulph's soul,<br/> + When Cen'lin knelt, and by his side<br/> + Half-kneeling, bent his lovely bride.<br/> + But, when he first essay'd to speak,<br/> + A hasty blush pass'd o'er his cheek,<br/> + He hung awhile his graceful head,<br/> + Till thus, with air confus'd he said:<br/> + "I come, by love with honours crown'd,<br/> + Yet sorrow casts a shade around,<br/> + That when my consort here I bring,<br/> + The heiress of a potent king,<br/> + The Mercians, clad in armour, come,<br/> + To lead their princess to her home.<br/> + No joyful hail our nuptial greets,<br/> + No proof of love my Ela meets,<br/> + But scarlet banners, waving high,<br/> + The bridal knot and wreath supply.<br/> + Alas! I see mistrust has won<br/> + E'en Cenulph's fondness from his son;<br/> + Or could my ever-honour'd sire,<br/> + A proof of Cen'lin's faith require?<br/> + Can force so needful now appear,<br/> + To aid a pow'r which I revere?<br/> + When eager beauty's form to view,<br/> + I first to Selred's court withdrew,<br/> + A single wish thy pow'r maintain'd,<br/> + A single wish thy son regain'd.<br/> + I left the maid whose matchless charms,<br/> + Each rooted prejudice disarms,<br/> + Who rul'd my heart with sovereign sway,<br/> + And taught a Mercian to obey<br/> + Laws that East-Saxons can impart,<br/> + When wit and beauty string the dart;<br/> + Left her when hope my doubts beguil'd,<br/> + And on our love her father smil'd.<br/> + Oft have I tried to win thine ear,<br/> + The fond, romantic tale to hear,<br/> + But when I found a lonely hour,<br/> + My coward soul has lost the pow'r;<br/> + As on my lips the accents hung,<br/> + Thy hate to Selred check'd my tongue.<br/> + Yet flattering hopes my passion fed,<br/> + And from thy court again I fled;<br/> + I thought when you my fair beheld,<br/> + And knew how greatly she excell'd,<br/> + In every charm, each art refin'd,<br/> + And virtue of the female mind,<br/> + Thy judgment would approve my choice,<br/> + And bless it with a cheerful voice.<br/> + And ah! though fortune did combine<br/> + With love, in making Ela mine,<br/> + I cannot from a grief refrain,<br/> + Remembering that I gave thee pain.<br/> + Yet if thy Cen'lin e'er could please,<br/> + If e'er my cares could give thee ease,<br/> + Let mild affection now arise,<br/> + And beam forgiveness from thine eyes!<br/> + No more thy son shall make thee know<br/> + A pain, or give thee cause of woe.<br/> + No nights the Mercians have to fear,<br/> + For all I love is center'd here,"<br/> + He spoke, and o'er his father's soul,<br/> + A stream of healing comfort stole;<br/> + He rose, with slow, majestic grace,<br/> + Tears of delight adorn'd his face,<br/> + His pious heart with rapture glow'd,<br/> + And joy a second youth bestow'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "To meet thee thus, my son," he cried,<br/> + "This peerless maiden for your bride,<br/> + Bids each distressing thought depart,<br/> + And joy again possess my heart.<br/> + Fair princess, thine the happy fate,<br/> + To heal the wounds of mutual hate;<br/> + No longer shall this bosom know,<br/> + An Eastern-Saxon as my foe;<br/> + And she, who bids that passion rest,<br/> + Doubt not, shall be supremely blest;<br/> + The part is holy and benign,<br/> + Befitting such a form as thine.<br/> + This day, far dearer than before,<br/> + Kind heav'n does twice my son restore,<br/> + For by those speaking looks I see,<br/> + Another valued child in thee." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + As then he raised them to his breast,<br/> + Around the joyful Mercians prest,<br/> + And made their shouts of triumph rise,<br/> + To the fair concave of the skies. + </p> + <p class="center"> + OCTOBER 1795. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="note-12"><!-- Note Anchor 12 --></a>12: King of the + East-Saxons. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_12"><!-- RULE4 12 --></a> + RHAPSODY. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Lo! here a cloud comes sailing, richly clad<br/> + In royal purple, which the parting beams<br/> + Of bounteous Phoebus edge with tints of gold<br/> + And lucid crimson. One might fancy it<br/> + A noble bird, that laves its graceful form,<br/> + And bathes its rosy bosom in the light.<br/> + Look! how it swells and rears its snowy crest<br/> + With haughty grandeur; while the blue expanse,<br/> + In smiling patience lets the boaster pass,<br/> + And swell his train with all the lazy vapours<br/> + That hover in the air: an easy prey<br/> + To the gigantic phantom, whose curl'd wing,<br/> + Sweeps in these worthless triflers of the sky,<br/> + And wraps them in his bosom. Go, vain shadow!<br/> + Sick with the burthen of thy fancied greatness,<br/> + A breath of zephyr wafts thee into nothing,<br/> + Scatters thy spreading plumes, uncrowns thy front,<br/> + And drives thee downward to thy mother earth,<br/> + To mix with vapour and dissolve in dew. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Such are the dreams of hope, which to the eye<br/> + Of youthful inexperience, seem to touch<br/> + The pure, unclouded sky of certainty.<br/> + Buoy'd up by the fond eloquence of thought,<br/> + And nurtur'd by the smile of vanity,<br/> + Each hour the air-born vision gathers bulk,<br/> + And Fancy decks it with a thousand hues,<br/> + Varied and wild, till it abounds in charms<br/> + Which sink the soul to sadness, when the breath<br/> + Of gentle Reason breaks the beauteous bubble,<br/> + And leaves us nought but vain regret behind. + </p> + <p class="center"> + FEBRUARY 1, 1797. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_13"><!-- RULE4 13 --></a> + HUMAN PLEASURE OR PAIN. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + When clouds and rain deform the sky, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And light'nings glare around, + </p> + <p> + Amidst the dreary, cheerless scene, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Some comfort may be found. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + There will, at some far-distant spot, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A streak of light appear, + </p> + <p> + Or, when the sullen vapours break, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The ether will be clear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And if the sun illumes the east, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And sheds his gladsome ray, + </p> + <p> + Some boding mist, or passing cloud + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Will threat the rising day. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The heart rejoicing in the view, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And dancing with delight, + </p> + <p> + Oft feels the touch of palsied fear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And sinks at thought of night. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + So Hope's bright torch more clearly shines, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Amidst surrounding gloom, + </p> + <p> + And, beldame Fortune vainly throws + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Her mantle o'er the tomb. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + MARCH 15,1797. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_14"><!-- RULE4 14 --></a> + THE COMPLAINT OF FANCY. + </h2> + <h3> + To A.R.C. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + As, musing, late I sat reclin'd,<br/> + And waking dreams absorb'd my mind,<br/> + A damsel came, of various dyes,<br/> + Like painted Iris from the skies;<br/> + A purfled saffron was her vest,<br/> + And sweet gum-cistus form'd her crest;<br/> + In many a playful ring, her hair<br/> + Flew light and flossy in the air;<br/> + The mantle, blue and gold, she wore,<br/> + A rose of opals held before,<br/> + While, graceful in her fairy hand,<br/> + Appear'd a crimson-tufted wand,<br/> + Whose shade on every object threw<br/> + A glowing tint of roseate hue. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Whence art thou, blooming nymph?" I cried,<br/> + And thus a tuneful voice replied:<br/> + "Men call me Fancy; at my shrine<br/> + Myriads confess my power divine;<br/> + There painters bend the willing knee,<br/> + And laurell'd poets sue to me:<br/> + For mine is every vivid ray,<br/> + Which partial Nature gave the day;<br/> + And, to the music of my song,<br/> + A thousand nameless charms belong. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "The friend of Happiness, I dwell<br/> + Belov'd alike in court or cell;<br/> + Where Glory lifts her ardent eye,<br/> + With hasty, kindred zeal I fly,<br/> + In sun-beams place the hero's form,<br/> + And bid his arm command the storm;<br/> + On swelling clouds an altar raise,<br/> + And fan the tow'ring flame of praise. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Oft, from the lorn enthusiast's lyre,<br/> + My fingers strike etherial fire,<br/> + And give to sounds of piercing woe,<br/> + Extatic rapture's fervent glow.<br/> + Oft sooth the maniac's throbbing vein,<br/> + And grace her simple, wilder'd strain;<br/> + The tribe of Pain in fetters keep,<br/> + Lull wounded Memory to sleep,<br/> + And, in the mind of gloomy Care,<br/> + Bid Thought an angel's semblance wear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Dear to each blest aerial pow'r,<br/> + E'en Wisdom calls me to her bow'r;<br/> + My songs her leisure hours beguile,<br/> + And teach her holy lip to smile.<br/> + And, when the Muse, with thoughtful care,<br/> + Has woven chaplets for her hair,<br/> + I let her, with her myrtles, twine,<br/> + Full many a fragrant rose of mine. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Then why, since all the wise and gay,<br/> + To me a grateful homage pay,<br/> + Since I to all my hand extend,<br/> + And, liberal, every heart befriend,<br/> + Does Nancy from the croud retire,<br/> + And rend my blossoms from her lyre?<br/> + Though every string the loss bewail,<br/> + And tones of mellow sweetness fail,<br/> + Which us'd to charm the pensive ear,<br/> + When list'ning Friendship bent to hear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Tell her I wish not to intrude<br/> + Upon her sacred solitude,<br/> + Nor cast my undulating chain,<br/> + Around her glowing heart again;<br/> + No! every claim I now resign,<br/> + Yet let some small regard be mine;<br/> + Let one, who nurs'd her infant years,<br/> + And wip'd away some bitter tears,<br/> + Still animate the scenes around,<br/> + And make her tread on fairy ground;<br/> + Give playful sweetness to each lay,<br/> + And decorate the passing day. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Tell her, if now she scorns my strain,<br/> + She may invoke my name in vain;<br/> + In vain my proffered aid implore,<br/> + Contemn'd, I hardly pardon more." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + She said, and springing from the earth,<br/> + Attending found her suitor Mirth,<br/> + Who caught her hand, with lively air,<br/> + And plac'd her in his silver chair,<br/> + Which through the yielding ether flew,<br/> + And quickly bore them from my view. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3><a name="RULE4_14a"><!-- RULE4 14 --></a> + ON THE + </h3> + <h2> + EVE OF DEPARTURE + </h2> + <h3> + From O—— + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Loud beats the rain! The hollow groan + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of rushing winds I hear, + </p> + <p> + That with a deep and sullen moan, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Pass slowly by the ear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Soon will my dying fire refuse + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To yield a cheerful ray, + </p> + <p> + Yet, shivering still I sit and muse + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The latest spark away. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah, what a night! the chilly air + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Bids comfort hence depart, + </p> + <p> + While sad repining's clammy wings + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Cling icy, to my heart. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + To-morrow's dawn may fair arise, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lovely to the view; + </p> + <p> + The sun with radiance gild the skies, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Yet then—I say adieu! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh, stay, dear Night, with cautious care, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lingering footsteps move, + </p> + <p> + Though day may be more soft and fair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Not her, but thee, I love. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Stay, wild in brow, severe in mien, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Stay! and ward off the foe; + </p> + <p> + Who, unrelenting smiles serene, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Yet tells me I must go. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Forsake these hospitable halls, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Where Truth and Friendship dwell, + </p> + <p> + To these high towers and ancient walls, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Pronounce a long farewell. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Alas! will Time's rapacious hand, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + These golden days restore? + </p> + <p> + Or will he suffer me to taste + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + These golden days no more? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Will he permit that here again, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I turn my willing feet? + </p> + <p> + That my glad eyes may here again, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The look of kindness meet? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + That here I ever may behold, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Felicity to dwell, + </p> + <p> + And often have the painful task + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of sighing out farewell? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah, be it so! my fears I lose, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By hope's sweet visions fed; + </p> + <p> + And as I fly to seek repose, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + She flutters round my bed. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + NOV. 17, 1796. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_15"><!-- RULE4 15 --></a> + TO M.I. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Thou, Margaret, lov'st the secret shade, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The murmuring brook, or tow'ring tree; + </p> + <p> + The village cot within the glade, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lonely walk have charms for thee. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + To thee more dear the jasmine bow'r, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That shelt'ring, undisturb'd retreat, + </p> + <p> + Than the high canopy of pow'r, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or Luxury's embroider'd seat. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + More sweet the early morning breeze, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Whose odours fill the rural vale, + </p> + <p> + The waving bosom of the seas, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When ruffled by the rising gale. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Than all which pride or pomp bestow, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To grace the lofty Indian maid, + </p> + <p> + Who prizes more the diamond's glow, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Than all in humbler vest array'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Sweet is the rural festive song, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which sounds so wildly o'er the plain, + </p> + <p> + When thoughtless mirth the notes prolong, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And heart-felt pleasure pours the strain. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Sweet is the dance where light and gay, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The village maiden trips along; + </p> + <p> + Her simple robe in careless play, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + As her fleet step winds round the throng. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Sweet is the labourer's blazing fire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When evening shades invite to rest; + </p> + <p> + Though weary, home does joy inspire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And social love dilates his breast. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + His rural lass with glee prepares, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The dainties fondness made her hoard; + </p> + <p> + Her husband now the banquet shares, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And children croud around the board. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah! who could wish to view the air + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of listless ease and languid wealth? + </p> + <p> + Who with such pleasures could compare + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The joys of innocence and health? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + AUGUST 20, 1796. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_16"><!-- RULE4 16 --></a> + CANTATA. DEL METASTASIO. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + "D'atre nubi è il sol ravvolto, + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + Luce infausta il Ciel colora. + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + Pur chi sa? Quest' alma ancora + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + La speranza non perdè. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Non funesta ogni tempesta + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + Co' naufragj all' onde il seno; + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + Ogni tuono, ogni baleno + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + Sempre un fulmine non è." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <h3> + TRANSLATION. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Dark, mournful clouds hang o'er the sun, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Lights gleam portentous in the air, + </p> + <p> + And yet who knows? This troubled heart + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Still gives not up to blank despair. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Not big with shipwrecks every storm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That sweeps the bosom of the main, + </p> + <p> + Nor does the threatening, turbid sky, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Always the thunder-bolt contain. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + LA FORTUNA. DELLO STESSO. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + A chi serena io miro, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Chiaro è di notte il cielo: + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Torna per lui nel gelo + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + La terra a germogliar. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ma se a taluno io giro + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Torbido il guardo, e fosco, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Fronde gli niega il bosco, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Onde non trova in mar. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <h3> + TRANSLATION. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + To him whom kindly I behold, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The midnight sky is clear, + </p> + <p> + And 'mid the wintry frost and cold, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The blushing flowers appear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But to the wretch who meets my eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When kindled by disdain, + </p> + <p> + The very grove will leaves deny, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And waveless be the main. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + CANTATA DELLO STESSO. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Finchè un zeffiro soave + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Tien del mar l'ira placata, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Ogni nave + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + È fortunata, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + È felice ogni nocchier; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + È ben prova di coraggio + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Incontrar l'onde funeste, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Navigar fra le tempeste, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + E non perdere il sentier. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <h3> + TRANSLATION. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Whilst zephyr sooths the angry waves + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of Ocean into rest, + </p> + <p> + Each vessel is in safety borne, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And every pilot blest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But he indeed demands our praise, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Who stems the tempest's force, + </p> + <p> + And midst the ire of hostile waves, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Pursues his destin'd course. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_22"><!-- RULE4 22 --></a> + SONETTO. + </h2> + <h3> + DI GIOVANNI DELLA CASA. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Oh sonno, oh della cheta, umida, ombrosa + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Notte placido figlio; oh de' mortali + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Egri conforto, oblio dolce de' mali, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Sì gravi, ond' è la vita aspra, e nojosa: + </p> + <p> + Soccorri al core omai, che langue, e posa + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Non have; e queste membra stanche, e frali + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Solleva: a me ten vola, oh sonno, e l'ali + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Tue brune sovra me distendi, e posa. + </p> + <p> + Ov' è il silenzio, che'l dì fugge, e'l + lume? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + E i lievi sogni, che con non secure + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Vestigia di seguirti han per costume? + </p> + <p> + Lasso, che'nvan te chiamo, e queste oscure, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + E gelide ombre invan lusingo; oh piume + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + D'asprezza colme; oh notti acerbe, e dure! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + SONNET, TO SLEEP. + </h2> + <h3> + TRANSLATION. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Son of the silent, dark, and humid Night, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Consoler of the wretched, by whose sway + </p> + <p> + The gloomy train of ills are put to flight, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That blacken Life's uncertain, tedious day, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + O! succour now this restless, pining heart! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Give to these feeble, weary limbs repose! + </p> + <p> + Fly to me, Sleep! and let thy sombre wings + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Over my couch their dusky plumes disclose! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + O! where is Silence, who avoids the light? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Where the wild dreams that flutter in thy train? + </p> + <p> + Alas! in vain I call thee, cruel Night! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And flatter these insensate shades in vain. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And oh! without thy cheering dews are shed,<br/> + How full of hardships is the downy bed! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_24"><!-- RULE4 24 --></a> + EDITHA. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Breathing the violet-scented gale, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Near to a river's limpid source, + </p> + <p> + Which, through a wide-extended vale, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Wound slowly on its sleeping course, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Attended by a youthful pair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With rubied lip and roving eye, + </p> + <p> + Oft would fair Editha repair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And let her children wander nigh. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + There pleas'd behold their footsteps turn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To each new object in their way, + </p> + <p> + Their ringlets glittering in the sun, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Their faces careless, blythe, and gay. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Once, when they drest their flaxen hair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With flow'rets wild of various hue, + </p> + <p> + And with a proud, exulting air, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To their delighted parent drew: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ah! thus may every day arise! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And pleasure thus your hearts, pervade!" + </p> + <p> + The widow'd mother fondly cries, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + "Before the youthful blossoms fade. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "My sighs are all dispers'd in air, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Resign'd to fate, I weep no more, + </p> + <p> + Your welfare now is all my care, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Yet am I constant as before. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "The world, because a vermil bloom, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Tinges my yet unfading cheek, + </p> + <p> + Says I forget my William's tomb, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A new and earthly love to seek. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Because I join the social train, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With lip that wears a kindred smile; + </p> + <p> + And a gay sonnet's lively strain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Does oft the lonely hour beguile: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Because no longer now I mourn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With sweeping robes of sable hue; + </p> + <p> + No more I clasp the marble urn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or vainly bid the world adieu. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ah! ill my secret soul they know, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Where my lost hero still remains, + </p> + <p> + Where memory makes my bosom glow, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And binds me still in closer chains. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Whoe'er hath seen my William's form, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Heighten'd with every martial grace, + </p> + <p> + The ever-varying, unknown charm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which beam'd in his expressive face; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Or heard his fine ideas try, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In Fancy's fairy garb to teach, + </p> + <p> + While the sweet language of his eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Excell'd the eloquence of speech, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Could ne'er suppose my faith would fail, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or aught again this heart enslave; + </p> + <p> + That absence would o'er love prevail, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or hope be bounded by the grave. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Could all but I his merit know? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + His wit and talents see? + </p> + <p> + And is his name by all below + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Remember'd, but by me? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No, ne'er will I the memory lose, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though from my sight thy form is flown, + </p> + <p> + Of tenderness for other's woes, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And noble firmness in thy own. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No slavish fear thy soul deprest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of Death, or his attendant train; + </p> + <p> + For in thy pure and spotless breast, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The fear of heav'n did only reign. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Thus, when the still-unsated waves + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Spread o'er thy head their whelming arms, + </p> + <p> + When horrid darkness reign'd around, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lightnings flash'd their dire alarms, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + <a href="#note-13">13</a>"When, wing'd with death, each + moment flew, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And blood the foaming ocean stain'd, + </p> + <p> + Thy courage cool, consistent, true, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Its native energy maintain'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And when the fatal moment came, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The bullet enter'd in thy side, + </p> + <p> + Only thy spirit's beauteous frame, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Its prisoner flying, droop'd and died. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "This is it that consoles my mind, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which to my love aspiring flies, + </p> + <p> + And makes me hope, in future days, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To hail my William in the skies. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Should tears from my pale eyelids steal, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I teach my children's how to flow, + </p> + <p> + And make their little bosoms feel, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Before their time, the touch, of woe. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "I will not weep! the world shall see + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That I a nobler tribute pay; + </p> + <p> + More grateful both to heaven and thee, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By guiding them in virtue's way." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Embracing then her fondest cares, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + She cast her raptur'd eyes above, + </p> + <p> + And breath'd to heav'n emphatic pray'rs, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of mingled reverence and love. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + APRIL 15, 1795. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="note-13"><!-- Note Anchor 13 --></a>13: I know not + if I have expressed myself with much clearness here, but I + meant to describe a sea-fight as concisely as possible. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_25"><!-- RULE4 25 --></a> + TO M.I. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Light breezes dance along the air, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The sky in smiles is drest, + </p> + <p> + And heav'ns pure vault, serene and fair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Pourtrays the cheerful breast. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Each object on this moving ball + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Assumes a lovely hue; + </p> + <p> + So fair good-humour brightens all + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That comes within her view. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Her presence glads the youthful train, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Reanimates the gay, + </p> + <p> + And, round her, by the couch of pain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The light-wing'd graces play. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Her winning mein and prompt reply, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Can sullen pride appease; + </p> + <p> + And the sweet arching of her eye + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + E'en apathy must please. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + To you, with whom the damsel dwells + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A voluntary guest, + </p> + <p> + To you, Maria, memory tells, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + This tribute is addrest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The feeble strains that I bequeath, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With melody o'erpay; + </p> + <p> + And let thy lov'd piano breathe + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A sweet responsive lay. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Although the mellow sounds will rise, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + So distant from my ear, + </p> + <p> + The charmer Fancy, when she tries, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Can make them present here. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Can paint thee, as with raptur'd bend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + You hail the powers of song; + </p> + <p> + When the light fingers quick descend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And fly the notes along: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Feel the soft chord of sadness meet, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + An echo in the soul, + </p> + <p> + And waking joy the strains repeat, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When Mirth's-quick measures roll. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + This "mistress of the powerful spell," + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Can every joy impart; + </p> + <p> + And ah! you doubtless know too well + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + How she can wring the heart. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + She rules me with despotic reign, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + As now I say <i>adieu</i>; + </p> + <p> + And makes me feel a sort of pain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + As if I spoke to you. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + FEB. 14, 1797. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3><a name="RULE4_26"><!-- RULE4 26 --></a> + WRITTEN IN + </h3> + <h2> + ZIMMERMANN'S SOLITUDE. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Hail, melancholy sage! whose thoughtful eye,<br/> + Shrunk from the mere <i>spectator's</i> careless + gaze,<br/> + And, in retirement sought the social smile,<br/> + The heart-endearing aspect, and the voice<br/> + Of soothing tenderness, which Friendship breathes,<br/> + And which sounds far more grateful to the ear,<br/> + Than the soft notes of distant flute at eve,<br/> + Stealing across the waters: Zimmermann!<br/> + Thou draw'st not Solitude as others do,<br/> + With folded arms, with pensive, nun-like air,<br/> + And tearful eye, averted from mankind.<br/> + No! warm, benign, and cheerful, she appears<br/> + The friend of Health, of Piety, and Peace;<br/> + The kind Samaritan that heals our woes,<br/> + The nurse of Science, and, of future fame<br/> + The gentle harbinger: her meek abode<br/> + Is that dear home, which still the virtuous heart,<br/> + E'en in the witching maze of Pleasure's dance,<br/> + In wild Ambition's dream, regards with love,<br/> + And hopes, with fond security, to pass<br/> + The evening of a long-protracted day,<br/> + Serenely joyful, there. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3><a name="RULE4_27"><!-- RULE4 27 --></a> + IN MEMORY OF + </h3> + <h2> + MR. AGOSTINO ISOLA, + </h2> + <h3> + OF CAMBRIDGE, + </h3> + <p class="center"> + Who died on the 5th of June, 1797. + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Awake, O Gratitude! nor let the tears<br/> + Of selfish Sorrow smother up thy voice,<br/> + When it should speak of a departed friend.<br/> + A tender friend, the first I ever lost!<br/> + For Destiny till now was merciful,<br/> + And though I oft have felt a transient pang,<br/> + For worth unknown, and wept awhile for those,<br/> + Whom long acquaintance only made me love,<br/> + No keen regret laid pining at my heart,<br/> + Nor Memory in the solitary hour,<br/> + Would sting with grief, as when she speaks<br/> + Thy virtue, knowledge, wisdom, gentleness,<br/> + Thy venerable age, and says that I<br/> + Had once the happiness to call thee friend. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Yes! I once bore that title, and my heart<br/> + Thought nobler of itself, that one so good,<br/> + So honor'd, so rever'd, should give it me.<br/> + O <i>Isola!</i> when that glad season comes,<br/> + Which brought redemption to a ruin'd world,<br/> + And, like thee, hides beneath the snow of age,<br/> + A gay, benevolent, and feeling heart,<br/> + I hop'd again to hear thy tongue repeat,<br/> + With youthful warmth and zealous energy,<br/> + Those passages, where Poetry assumes<br/> + An air divine, and wakes th' attentive soul<br/> + To holy rapture! Then you promis'd me<br/> + The luxury to weep o'er Dante's muse,<br/> + And fair Italia's loftier poets hail. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p style="text-align: right"> + I have often heard + </p> + <p> + That years would blunt the feelings of the soul, + </p> + <p> + And apathy ice the once-glowing heart. + </p> + <p> + Injurious prejudice! Dear, guileless friend! + </p> + <p> + Thou read'st mankind, but saw not, or forgot + </p> + <p> + Their faults and vices; for thy breast was still + </p> + <p> + The residence of sweet Simplicity, + </p> + <p> + Daughter of letter'd Wisdom, and the friend + </p> + <p> + Of Love and Pity. Happy soul, farewell! + </p> + <p> + Long shall we mourn thee! longer will it be, + </p> + <p> + "Ere we shall look upon thy like again!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr /> + <p> + This humble tribute to the memory of my venerated friend, was + written in the first impulse of my sorrow for his loss, and + though unworthy of his virtues, is still a small memorial of + my respect for a man, on whose tomb might justly be + inscribed, as I have seen on an old monument: + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="poem2"> + "Heven hath his soule. + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + He fruits of Pietie, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + This Towne his want. + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Our hearts his Memorie." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_28"><!-- RULE4 28 --></a> + TO THE NUNS OF BODNEY. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Ye holy women, say! will ye accept<br/> + The passing tribute of a humble friend?<br/> + Stranger indeed to you and to your faith,<br/> + But O! I hope not stranger to the zeal,<br/> + Which warm'd your bosoms in Religion's cause.<br/> + When impious men commanded you to break<br/> + The vow which bound your souls, and which in youth<br/> + Warm Piety's emphatic lips had made.<br/> + Say! will ye suffer me on that rude tomb,<br/> + Where she reposes (whose benignant smile,<br/> + Whose animated, life-inspiring eye,<br/> + And faded form, majestic, still appears<br/> + In Thought's delusive hour) to shed a tear?<br/> + On her, whose sainted look, though seen but once,<br/> + I never can forget, till Time shall wrap<br/> + The veil of Death around me, and make dumb<br/> + The voice of Memory. Ah! "how low she lies!"<br/> + No marble monument to speak her praise,<br/> + And tell the world that here a DILLON rests.<br/> + One, who in beauty's prime forsook the world,<br/> + And, <i>self-bereav'd</i> of all it holds most + dear,<br/> + Retir'd, to pass the pilgrimage of life,<br/> + In solemn prayer and peaceful solitude.<br/> + Ah, vain desire! Ambition's scowling eye<br/> + Must see the cloister, as the palace, low,<br/> + And meek-ey'd Quiet quit her last abode,<br/> + Ere he can pause to look upon the wreck,<br/> + And rue the wild impatience of his hand. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Hail! blessed spirit! This rude cypher'd stone.<br/> + On which a sister's pensive eye shall muse<br/> + In sorrow, and another relative<br/> + In sweet, though mournful, recollection, bend,<br/> + Shall call a tear into the stranger's eye<br/> + Whene'er he hears the tale, yet make him proud<br/> + That Britain's hospitable land should yield<br/> + All that you could accept, <i>an humble grave</i>. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3> + <i>Written in London, on the 19th of March, 1796.</i> + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + A lov'd companion, chosen friend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Does at this hour depart, + </p> + <p> + Whom the dear name of father binds + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Still closer to my heart. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + On him may joy-dispensing heav'n + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Each calm delight bestow, + </p> + <p> + And eas'd of peace-destroying care + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + His life serenely flow! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Did I but know his bosom calm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And free from anxious fear, + </p> + <p> + Around me in more cheerful hues + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Would every scene appear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And I will hope that he, who ne'er + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Repin'd at heav'n's decree, + </p> + <p> + But ever patient and resign'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Submissive bent the knee: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Who, best of fathers, never sought + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + For arbitrary sway, + </p> + <p> + But free within each youthful mind, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Bade Reason lead the way. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Who taught us, 'stead of servile fear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A warm esteem to prove, + </p> + <p> + And bade each act of duty spring, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + From gratitude and love. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Yes, I must hope that generous mind + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With many cares opprest, + </p> + <p> + Shall in the winter of his days + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With sweet repose be blest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr /> + <p class="center"> + <i>A friend, a year or two ago, gave me</i> Joseph's + Reconciliation with his Brethren, <i>as a subject to write + upon; but I was afraid of not treating it in such a manner as + a sacred story deserved, and gave up the attempt, when I had + written little more than the following lines, to account for + their not knowing him, although he well remembered them; and + am persuaded to let them appear here</i>. + </p> + <hr /> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_29"><!-- RULE4 29 --></a> + FRAGMENT. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <hr style="width: 35%" /> + <p> + They, ere he left them, had attain'd their prime<br/> + And were less alter'd by the hand of Time;<br/> + But, the slim youth no longer met their view,<br/> + Fair, as the fancy e'er a seraph drew.<br/> + Who still, upborne by joy, in smiles was found,<br/> + With step elate that scarcely press'd the ground.<br/> + Before a grief had raz'd his youthful breast,<br/> + Or care had robb'd his brilliant eyes of rest.<br/> + When lofty visions swam before his sight,<br/> + And dreams of empire wrapt his soul at night.<br/> + Whose hair luxuriant flow'd in glossy pride,<br/> + And, from his snowy forehead, wav'd aside;<br/> + Which, vein'd with purest azure, rose serene,<br/> + And threw complacence o'er a rapturous mien.<br/> + The wandering light that sparkled in his eye,<br/> + The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye,<br/> + The speaking form, by each emotion sway'd,<br/> + The voice, that softest music had convey'd,<br/> + Were now matur'd. No more the child they saw,<br/> + But one, with majesty, inspiring awe;<br/> + Whose silken locks no more in ringlets flow,<br/> + But gold and purple bind his manly brow:<br/> + No more the envied robe his limbs invest,<br/> + In all the pomp of eastern monarchs drest.<br/> + The sun of Egypt had embrown'd his face,<br/> + And time had ripen'd every youthful grace. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + As when the morn, in vivid colours gay,<br/> + And tender beauty, flies to meet the day,<br/> + Her lively tints lose their primeval hue,<br/> + The white and saffron mingle with the blue,<br/> + A glowing blush o'er the whole ether reigns,<br/> + But not a cloud its genuine tint retains. + </p> + <hr style="width: 35%" /> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_30"><!-- RULE4 30 --></a> + FRAGMENT. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Where yonder mossy ruins lie,<br/> + And desolation strikes the eye,<br/> + A noble mansion, high and fair,<br/> + Once rear'd its turrets in the air.<br/> + There infant warriors drew their breath,<br/> + And learn'd to scorn the fear of death.<br/> + In halls where martial trophies hung,<br/> + They listen'd while the minstrels sung,<br/> + Of pain and glory, toil and care,<br/> + And all the horrid charms of war:<br/> + There caught the fond desire of fame,<br/> + And panted for a hero's name.<br/> + Alas! too oft in youthful bloom,<br/> + Renown has crown'd the early tomb,<br/> + Has pierc'd the widow's bosom deep,<br/> + And taught the mother's eyes to weep.<br/> + She, on whose tale the stripling hung,<br/> + While pride and sorrow rul'd her tongue.<br/> + His father's gallant acts to tell,<br/> + How bold he fought, how bravely fell. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Methinks e'en now I hear her speak,<br/> + I see the tear upon her cheek;<br/> + The musing boy's abstracted brow,<br/> + And the high-arching eye below.<br/> + The stifled sigh and anxious heave,<br/> + The kindling heart which dares not grieve;<br/> + The finely-elevated head,<br/> + The hand upon the bosom spread,<br/> + Proclaim him wrought by potent charms,<br/> + And speak his very soul in arms. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Incautious zeal! what hast thou done?<br/> + The tale has robb'd thee of thy son.<br/> + And while thy pious tears deplore,<br/> + The loss of him who lives no more,<br/> + Ambition wakes her restless fire,<br/> + The boy will emulate his sire, + </p> + <hr style="width: 35%" /> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3><a name="RULE4_31"><!-- RULE4 31 --></a> + <i>Written April the 18th, 1796</i> + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + The beauteous queen of social love,<br/> + Descending from the realms above,<br/> + Through the wide space of ether flew,<br/> + With care this little world to view,<br/> + Till, tir'd with wandering, at the last,<br/> + Through every different climate past,<br/> + She sought not out a splendid dome,<br/> + But made this humble cot her home. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The sweetest lyre would strive in vain,<br/> + To sing the pleasures of her reign,<br/> + Whose powerful influence does impart,<br/> + New softness to the feeling heart,<br/> + Bids it each narrow thought resign,<br/> + And fills it with a warmth benign. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + From morning till the close of day,<br/> + Here all a grateful homage pay,<br/> + For here she plays her harmless wiles,<br/> + And scatters her endearing smiles;<br/> + Here no proud rivals intervene,<br/> + And all, though glowing, is serene.<br/> + Here, since she first her visit paid,<br/> + Still has the sweet enchantress staid,<br/> + And never met a single slight,<br/> + Or spread her snowy plumes for flight. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Contented 'neath the humble roof;<br/> + No timid heart is kept aloof;<br/> + A kind and condescending guest,<br/> + She lightens each despairing breast;<br/> + Where pain her poignant venom spreads,<br/> + The balm of tenderness she sheds,<br/> + Which breathes a calm repose around,<br/> + And heals at last the burning wound. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When the heart throbs with bitter woe,<br/> + Her winning mien disarms the foe,<br/> + And the kind glances of her eye,<br/> + Force the desponding power to fly.<br/> + She gives a zest to every joy,<br/> + Forbids tranquillity to cloy,<br/> + Softens misfortune, chases fear,<br/> + And balm distills in every tear.<br/> + 'Tis she alone can make us know,<br/> + A truly blissful hour below,<br/> + Can smooth the furrow'd brow of life,<br/> + And hush the thundering voice of strife. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + O, may she still exert her power,<br/> + Still lead us to the rural bower,<br/> + Which vaunting Pride does ne'er disgrace,<br/> + Or critic Envy's spiteful face.<br/> + Here Raymond ever shall delight,<br/> + To sit and watch the closing night;<br/> + And open-hearted Gertrude here,<br/> + With her sweet infant shall appear.<br/> + Here oft her brother shall prepare,<br/> + A wreath for Mary's curling hair;<br/> + While soft-voic'd Anna, fond of play,<br/> + And all the train, alert and gay,<br/> + In healthful games shall frolic round,<br/> + And revel on the mossy ground. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Here Edmund shall forget his care,<br/> + And often fill an elbow chair;<br/> + While Sophia, friendly and sincere,<br/> + Shall ever find a welcome here. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Yet would my hovering fancy trace,<br/> + The features of each happy face;<br/> + And sympathy informs my mind,<br/> + That they the same emotions find;<br/> + That in each scene of harmless glee,<br/> + Memory recalls the absent three:<br/> + And all, though distance strives to part,<br/> + Will hold communion in the heart. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr style="width: 25%" /> + <p class="center"> + FINIS. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11193 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d9f4a8f --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #11193 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11193) diff --git a/old/11193-0.txt b/old/11193-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c4935ca --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11193-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3108 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Elegies and Other Small Poems, by Matilda Betham + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Elegies and Other Small Poems + +Author: Matilda Betham + +Release Date: February 20, 2004 [eBook #11193] +[Most recently updated: June 24, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELEGIES AND OTHER SMALL POEMS *** + + + + +ELEGIES AND OTHER SMALL POEMS + +BY + +MATILDA BETHAM. + + + +_To the Hon. LADY JERNINGHAM_. + +_Madam_, + +_The many endearing instances of regard I have experienced since I had +the honor of being known to your Ladyship, while they impress my mind +with gratitude, flatter my hopes with a favourable reception of the +following miscellanies, which, under your patronage, I venture to submit +to the public_. + +_Considered as the first essays of an early period of life, and as the +exercises of leisure, my wishes suggest, that they may not, perhaps, be +found wholly unworthy of attention; but whatever be their fate with +others, I shall feel myself much gratified, if, in your Ladyship's +judgment, they may be allowed some merit_. + +_Though there cannot be a greater pleasure than dwelling on the +excellencies of a distinguished and amiable character, I know not that +it would be permitted me to indulge my present inclination with +enumerating those virtues and endowments which confessedly distinguish +your Ladyship, but my wishes I may offer, and that you may long, very +long, continue to bless your family, to adorn your rank, and console +the unhappy, is the sincere prayer of_ + +_Your Ladyship's most obliged humble servant, MATILDA BETHAM_. + +_Stonham, Nov. 20, 1797._ + + + + +TO THE READER. + + +If, in the following pages, there may be found any unacknowledged +imitations, I hope I shall not be censured as an intentional plagiarist; +for it has been my wish, however I may be esteemed presumptuous, not +to be unjust; and I sometimes fear lest an imperfect recollection of +another's idea should have appeared to me as a dawning thought of my +own. Wherever I could recollect a similar passage, although unnoticed +at the time I wrote, it has been either altered or acknowledged. + +I commit these trifles to the press with the anxiety necessarily +resulting from a desire that they may not be deemed altogether +worthless. Though the natural partiality of the writer may be somewhat +strengthened by the commendations of friends and parents, I am well +aware that no apology can give currency to imperfection. + +I have not vainly attempted to ascend to the steeps of Parnassus. If, +wandering at its foot, I have mistaken perishable shrubs for never-dying +flowers, the errors of a youthful mind, first viewing the fascinating +regions of fancy, will not be rigidly condemned; for wherever there +is true taste, there will be genuine candour. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + To ----, with Arthur and Albina + Arthur and Albina + The Fraternal Duel + Lines in a Letter to A.R.C. + The Lonely Walk + The Outlaw + Invitation + Whitsun-Monday + Philemon + On a Fan + To Simplicity + The Terrors of Guilt + Cen'lin, Prince of Mercia + Rhapsody + Human Pleasure or Pain + The Complaint of Fancy + On the Eve of Departure from O---- + To M.I. + Translation from Metastasio + ---------- from Della Casa + Editha + To M.I. + Written in Zimmerman's Solitude + To the Memory of Mr. Agostino Isola + To the Nuns of Bodney + Written in London + Fragment + Fragment + Written April 18, 1796. + + + + +To ---- WITH ARTHUR and ALBINA. + +1794. + + +Ah! if your eye should e'er these lines survey, +Dismiss from thence its penetrating ray: +Let Criticism then her distance keep, +And dreaded Justice then be lull'd to sleep; +For, let whatever sentence be their due, +I feel I cannot censure bear from you. + + + * * * * * + +_A British Maid awaits the arrival of her lover from the battle, on a +hill, where, at its commencement, she had retired to make vows to heaven +for his success.--Evening_. + + * * * * * + + + + +ARTHUR and ALBINA. + + +Ah me! the yellow western sky turns pale, + And leaves the cheerless sons of earth to mourn; +And yet I hear not in the silent vale, + A sound to tell me Arthur does return. + +Ah, haste ye hours! quick plume the loit'ring wing! + Bring back my hero, crown'd with glorious spoils! +Let bards on lofty harps his triumphs sing, + And loud applause repay successful toils! + +Reward the flame, ye great celestial pow'rs, + The noble flame that in his bosom glows! +Inspire him, Druids, from your holy bow'rs, + With strength to conquer iron-breasted foes![1] + +With heighten'd vigour brace his nervous arm, + And let his lance with ten-fold fury fly, +Make him terrific by some potent charm, + And add new lightening to his piercing eye! + +Then may my lover gain unrivall'd fame, + The Roman banners may less proudly flow, +Then he may humble their detested name, + And their high plumes wave o'er' a British brow! + +Then may his chariot,[2] wheeling o'er the plain, + Hurl death and desolation all around, +While his intrepid front appals their train, + And make our proud invaders bite the ground! + +But yet I hear no lively foot advance; + No sound of triumph greets my list'ning ear!' +And I may carve this eagle-darting lance + For one, whose voice I never more shall hear! + +Perhaps my vows have never reach'd the skies, + Nor heav'n, propitious, smil'd upon my pray'r; +And ah! to morrow's crimson dawn may rise + To plunge me in the horrors of despair! + +Yet well he knows the dreadful spear to wield-- + Alas! their fearful limbs are fenc'd with care: +And, what can valour, when th'extended shield[3] + May leave, so oft, his gen'rous bosom bare? + +Say, reverend Druids, can you bless in vain? + Can you in vain extend your spotless hands? +Will not heav'n listen when its priests complain, + And save its altars from unhallow'd bands? + +Oh yes! I'll fear no more! The sacred groves,[4] + That rear their untouch'd branches to the skies; +Beneath whose shade its chosen servant roves, + Hidden from weak, unconsecrated eyes: + +Beneath whose shade the choral bards rehearse, + Piercing, with uprais'd eyes, each mist that shrouds, +And, listening, catch the heav'n-dictated verse, + By airs etherial wailed from the clouds: + +It ne'er can be--but hark! I hear the sound + Of some one's step; yet not the youth I love; +He would have flown, and scarcely touch'd the ground, + Not ling'ring thus, with weary caution, move. + +The heavy wanderer approaches nigh, + But the drear darkness skreens him from my views +Ah, gracious heav'n! it was my Arthur's sigh, + Which the unwilling breeze so faintly blew. + +Oh speak! inform me what I have to fear! + Speak, and relieve my doubting, trembling heart! +To thy Albina, with a tongue sincere, + A portion of thy wretchedness impart!" + +"Sweet maid," replied the wounded, dying youth, + In accents mournful, tremulous and slow, +"Yes, I will ever answer thee with truth, + While yet the feeble tide of life shall flow. + +We made the haughty Roman chiefs retire, + The tow'ring, sacrilegious eagle[5] flew; +Our bosoms swell'd with more than mortal fire, + When from the field indignant they withdrew. + +But ill bespeaks my faint and languid tongue, + The glowing beauties of that joyful sight; +Ill can my breast, with keenest torture wrung, + Dwell on the charming terrors of the fight. + +To others then I leave the envied strain, + Which shall for ages rend the British air; +Nor will thy partial ear expect, in vain, + To find the humble name of Arthur there. + +I go, while now the victory is warm, + The just reward of valour to obtain; +Soon I return, clad in a nobler form,[6] + Again to triumph, and again be slain. + +Ah! then, my dear Albina, cease to grieve, + Nor at thy lover's glorious fate repine; +For, though my present favour'd form I leave, + This constant heart shall still be only thine. + +Alas! e'en now I feel the icy hand + Of hasty death, press down my swelling heart; +E'en now I hear a sweet aerial band, + Summon thy faithful Arthur to depart. + +Let not thy tears an absent lover mourn, + Remember that he bravely, nobly died; +Remember that he quickly will return, + And claim again his lov'd, his destin'd bride." + +As thus the warrior's fainting spirits fled, + And parting life streamed forth at every vein, +His quivering lip, in whispers, softly said, + "Remember, Arthur dies to live again!" + +"Oh stay, dear youth!" the hapless maiden cries, + My best-lov'd Arthur, but one moment stay! +And close not yet those all-enlivening eyes, + So lately lighted at the torch of day. + +Ah! yet once more, that look of tender love, + Of fond regret, my Arthur, let me view! +Let one more effort thy affection, prove, + And bid me once, once more, a long adieu. + +Now, ere the moon withdraws her feeble light, + Ope yet again on me thy fading eye! +He hears not! memory has ta'en her flight, + And vanish'd with that last convulsive sigh. + +Why did I variegated wreaths prepare, + To pay the conqueror every honor due? +Or, why, with fillets, bind my flowing hair, + And tinge my arms of the bright azure hue?[7] + +Oh! must this constant bosom beat no more? + This skilful hand no more direct the spear? +Must lost Albina still her fate deplore, + And ever drop the unavailing tear? + +Must I no more that lovely face review, + Expressing each emotion of the mind? +No more repeat a sweetly sad adieu? + No more gay chaplets on his forehead bind? + +His forehead, high and fair, with martial grace, + And bold, free curls of glossy chesnut crown'd; +The full, dark eye-brow which adorn'd his face, + O'erwhelming foes with terror as he frown'd. + +His voice, though strong, harmoniously clear, + No more shall fill Albina with delight; +No more shall sooth her still-attentive ear, + And make her fancy every sorrow light. + +Farewell to love, to happiness, and joy! + Yet will I cull the summer's choicest bloom; +Funereal chaplets shall my time employ, + And wither daily on my Arthur's tomb." + +As thus she mourn'd, with bitterest woe opprest, + A ray of light illumin'd all the grove, +And a consoling voice the fair addrest, + In the soft accents of parental love. + +Though still she clasp'd her hero's valued corse, + She slowly rais'd her languid, streaming eyes, +And own'd astonishment's resistless force, + Viewing the stranger with a wild surprize. + +The form was clad in robes of purest white, + That swept with solemn dignity the ground; +Contrasting with the blackest gloom of night, + Which reign'd in awful majesty around. + +The silver beard did reverence demand,[8] + And told her that a holy bard was there, +Whose shrivell'd fingers grasp'd a flaming brand, + Which threw a lustre on the waving hair. + +His eye possess'd the brilliant fire of youth, + United with the wisdom of the sage; +And speaking, with the simple voice of truth, + He blended the solemnity of age. + +"Arise! thou loveliest of misfortune's train, + And cease these weak, desponding tears to shed; +The soft effusions of thy grief restrain, + Which serve but to disturb the peaceful dead. + +The youth you mourn, far from these scenes of woe, + To worlds of never-ending joy is flown; +Where his blest bosom with delight shall glow, + And his fair temples wear a princely crown. + +Ah then, presumptuous! question not the skies, + Nor more with vain laments his loss deplore; +Attend to this, and cease your fruitless sighs, + You soon shall meet where you can part no more."[9] + +Awe-struck, his sacred wisdom she confest, + Which pour'd sweet consolation on her mind; +She cross'd her blood-stain'd hands upon her breast, + And bow'd her humble, grateful head, resign'd. + +AUGUST 27, 1794. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 1: Alluding to the armour of the Romani.] + +[Footnote 2: The Britons fought in low chariots, which they could leave +and re-ascend at pleasure.] + +[Footnote 3: The shield being their only armour, when held out to +protect a wounded or dying friend, left them defenceless.] + +[Footnote 4: The groves were consecrated to the celebration of religious +mysteries.] + +[Footnote 5: The Roman standard.] + +[Footnote 6: The Druids are said to have preached the doctrine of +transmigration, in order to inspire their warriors with the greater +contempt of death.] + +[Footnote 7: The practice of staining themselves with blue was common +among the Britons.] + +[Footnote 8: The people, excepting the priests, shaved off all the hair +from their faces, but what grew on the upper lip.] + +[Footnote 9: This equivocal manner of speech may be supposed natural +enough in one of this order of priests, who, it is said, held a more +refined idea of a future state than they preached to the people.] + + + * * * * * + + Alas! no more that joyous morn appears + That led the tranquil hours of spotless fame; + For I have steep'd a father's couch in tears, + +SHENSTONE. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE FRATERNAL DUEL. + + +'Oh! hide me from the sun! I loath the sight! + I cannot bear his bright, obtrusive ray: +Nought is so dreadful to my gloom as light! + Nothing so dismal as the blaze of day! + +No more may I its sparkling glories view! + No more its piercing lustre meet my eye! +On night's black wings my only comfort flew; + At breath of morn I sicken and I die. + +Where can I fly? In what sequester'd clime + Does darkness ever hold her ebon reign? +Where woeful dirges measure out the time, + And endless echoes breathe the sullen strain. + +Where dreary mountains rear their low'ring heads, + To pierce the heavy and umbrageous clouds; +And where the cavern dewy moisture sheds, + And night's thick veil the guilty mourner shrouds. + +There, lost in horrors, I might vent my sighs; + To open misery myself resign; +Might snatch each torturing vision ere it flies, + And feast on prospects desolate as mine. + +Oh! let me thither quickly take my flight, + And chuse a favourite and a final seat, +In scenes which would each gentler mind affright, + But for my guilt affords a fit retreat. + +There, where no ray, no gleam of light could come, + There, and there only, could I find relief; +There might I ruminate on Edward's doom, + And lose myself in luxury of grief. + +And, as it is, though joys around me shine, + Though pleasure here erects her dazzling brow, +Wrapt in despondence, will I droop and pine, + And tears of anguish shall for ever flow. + +Oh Edward! could'st thou see this alter'd frame, + Which youthful graces lately did adorn! +Could'st thou behold, and think me still the same, + Thy once gay friend, thus hapless and forlorn? + +The cheek, so late by ruddy health embrown'd, + Now pale and faded with incessant tears; +The eye, which once elate, disdain'd the ground, + Now sunk and languid in its orb appears. + +Oh! never, never will I cease to grieve! + And sure repentance pardon may obtain! +Can woe unfeign'd incite heav'n to relieve + A wretch opprest with agonizing pain? + +Ah no! my hands are stain'd with brother's blood! + A father's curses load my sinking head! +I wish to die, but dare not pass the flood, + For there, as well as here, my hopes are fled. + +Sleep, which was meant to chase away the thought, + To lull the sound of dissonant despair, +Appears to me with added terrors fraught, + And my torn heart can find no refuge there. + +If, for a moment, I its fetters wear, + And its soft pressure these pale eyes controul, +I injur'd Emma's just reproaches hear, + Or Edward's form appals my shrinking soul. + +When in those transitory sleeps I lie, + I oft his beauteous, bleeding form review; +A mild, benignant lustre lights his eye, + As come to bid a friend a last adieu. + +I start, I shudder at his tuneful voice, + When it, in soothing whispers, meets my ear; +That sound, which oft has made my heart rejoice, + I now all-trembling and affrighted hear. + +Was it thy fault, dear, much-lamented youth + If lovely Emma did thy suit prefer? +She saw thee form'd of tenderness and truth, + And kings might glory to be lov'd by her. + +Thy native sweetness won her artless heart; + And well our different characters she knew; +Whilst thy mild looks did happiness impart, + She saw the murderer in each glance I threw. + +Yet for this, meanly, did I thee upbraid, + And basely urg'd an elder brother's right; +Then, calling impious passion to my aid, + Forc'd thee, unwilling, to the fatal fight. + +Oh! ne'er shall I forget the dreadful hour, + I sheath'd my weapon in thy noble breast; +Thy dying hand clasp'd mine, with feeble pow'r, + And to thy mangled bosom fondly prest. + +Whilst o'er thee, I, in speechless anguish hung, + Thou saw'st the wild distraction of my eye; +And, though the chills of death restrain'd thy tongue + Thy bosom heav'd a sympathetic sigh. + +With cruel tenderness my friends contriv'd, + To bear me from the drear, polluted shore; +Of every joy, of peace itself depriv'd, + Which this despairing breast shall know no more. + +Since this what frenzy has inspir'd my mind! + My tortur'd mem'ry cannot it retrace; +No relique now of former days I find, + But horrors, which e'en madness can't efface. + +My dearest brother, and my tenderest friend, + O come, and save me from this dark abyss! +Draw hence the darts which my rack'd bosom rend! + And bear me with you to the realms of bliss! + +Ah! whence that pang which smote my shuddering heart? + Where now, for refuge, can lost Anselm fly? +'Tis Death! I know him by his crimson dart! + And, am I fit? Oh heav'ns! I cannot die! + +My spirit is not form'd for rapid flight; + It cannot cut the vast expanse of air, +No, never can it reach the realms of light, + For sin, a weight immoveable, lies there!' + +Thus wretched Anselm rav'd: unhappy youth! + Though passion hurried thee so far astray, +Thy infant soul ador'd the God of Truth, + And virtue usher'd in thy vernal day. + +Oh! had he learn'd his passions to restrain, + And let cool reason in his breast preside, +His op'ning wisdom had not bloom'd in vain, + Nor had he, ere the prime of manhood, died. + +Yet, if remorse could expiate his guilt, + If the worst sufferings could the crime erase, +If tears could wash away the blood he spilt, + Then Anselm's penitence obtain'd him grace. + + +AUGUST 20, 1794. + + + +IN A LETTER to A.R.C. ON HER WISHING TO BE CALLED ANNA. + + +Forgive me, if I wound your ear, + By calling of you Nancy, +Which is the name of my sweet friend, + The other's but her fancy. + +Ah, dearest girl! how could your mind + The strange distinction frame? +The whimsical, unjust caprice, + Which robs you of your name. + +_Nancy_ agrees with what we see, + A being wild and airy; +Gay as a nymph of Flora's train, + Fantastic as a fairy. + +But _Anna's_ of a different kind, + A melancholy maid; +Boasting a sentimental soul, + In solemn pomp array'd. + +Oh ne'er will I forsake the sound, + So artless and so free! +Be what you will with all mankind. + But _Nancy_ still with me. + + + + +THE LONELY WALK, + +To W.S.B. + + +When the grey evening spreads a calm around, + Tell me, has thy bewilder'd fancy sought, +Retir'd in some sequestered spot of ground, + Rest, from the labour of eternal thought? + +When, wrapt in self, the soul enjoys repose, + The wearied brain resigns its fervent heat, +In dream-like musing every care we lose, + And wind our way with slowly-moving feet. + +Oft, to indulge the thought-exploded sigh, + When, slowly wandering at the close of day, +Light emanations from th'abstracted eye, + With transient beauty in the sun-beams play, + +Thy sister seeks the solitary shade. + Her mind inhaling the aerial gloom, +Sees, not-observing, the fair landscape fade, + And sullen mist usurping day-light's room. + +Not her's the feelings which regret inspires, + When sorrows keen have made the spirits low; +Adversity has damp'd the youthful fires, + And all the tears that fall are tears of woe. + +Ah no! possessing every social bliss, + I cannot, will not at my fate repine; +Or ask for happiness excelling this, + When such a world of treasures now are mine! + +And, when the melancholy grove I seek, + Scarce can my palpitating heart controul, +While silent tears are trembling on my cheek, + The flood of pleasure swelling in my soul. + +But soon my too-elated thoughts are calm, + The tumults of the mental chaos cease; +A soft oblivion the rais'd senses charm, + And lull to a reflecting, soothing peace. + +Hail, sweet enhancements of the languid mind! + Whose calm reposes restless worldlings scorn; +But from whose aid recruited strength we find, + And waken, lively as the bird of morn. + +And thou, lov'd boy, in whose congenial breast, + I doubt not but those sentiments reside; +For we, our thoughts, our actions have confest, + As much in hearts as persons are allied; + +Hail thou, my brother! may thy steps be led + By heav'nly wisdom through this world of care, +And gain the realms for which our Saviour, bled! + Nor pain, nor lassitude await us there. + +OCTOBER 13, 1794. + + + * * * * * + +_The first Percy, who came over with William the Conqueror, married a +Saxon lady, called Emma de Port, said to have been the daughter of the +last Saxon Earl of Northumberland, whose possessions had been given to +him (Lord William de Percy) for his services_. + +_I have taken the liberty of supposing this lady to have had a +brother._ + + * * * * * + + + + +THE OUTLAW. + + +Before the fair Aurora spread + Her azure mantle o'er the skies, +While sleep its pleasing influence shed, + On grateful mortals weary eyes, + +Emerg'd from a surrounding wood, + On a bleak mountain's sullen brow, +A solitary outlaw stood, + And view'd, through mist, the world below. + +With deep regret his bosom fraught, + His arms were wreath'd in sorrow's knot[10]; +Nor seem'd he yet, by patience taught, + To bear submissively his lot. + +Hidden was each enlivening grace; + Deprest by his untimely doom; +A hectic flush o'erspread his face, + Instead of nature's florid bloom. + +Untutor'd in the school of grief, + His pining spirit spoke in sighs; +Though almost hopeless of relief, + He look'd around with eager eyes; + +And fondly bent an anxious ear, + To the slow murmuring of the breeze, +Essaying oft, in vain, to hear + A friendly step beneath the trees. + +"Delusive wish!" at last he cried, + "Why wilt thou fill my aching breast? +And thus my miseries deride, + By telling how I might be blest. + +"No kind consolers hither bend, + By sympathy to ease my care; +Here comes no ever-faithful friend, + Who yet might shield me from despair. + +"The abbey's well-known tow'r I seek, + It fades from my impassion'd eye; +The fancied outlines softly break, + And melt into the distant sky. + +"No pitying object now remains, + That I may know those scenes are near, +Where generous love and friendship reigns, + And Alwin's name may claim a tear. + +"And you, my lov'd paternal groves, + Where I no more must shew my head; +In your fair walks a stranger roves, + And treacherous Normans daily tread! + +"E'en now their presence may prophane + The halls where Herbert did reside! +E'en now may joy and gladness reign, + And Adelaide be Percy's bride. + +"Yet no! her soul, the seat of truth, + Would ne'er a second love receive! +The sacred vows of artless youth, + Her Alwin ever shall believe! + +"They still shall comfort my sad heart, + And sooth the anguish of my mind; +Shall still a cheering hope impart, + And make me somewhat more resign'd. + +"Ah! yet I hear her trembling hand, + Withdraw the bolt to set me free! +Yet hear the hasty, kind command, + My Alwin fly, and live for me! + +"No other can obtain my love! + I would for thee the world resign! +Then let thy prompt obedience prove + That thou art truly, wholly mine." + +"And ever to her promise true, + No pleasure shall her soul elate, +For, yet her constant thoughts pursue + A wretched Outlaw's hapless fate! + +"In vain proud Ranulph[11] shall upbraid, + My Adelaide is still the same! +And, for thy sake, dear, lovely maid, + I will not curse the Norman name! + +"Not, though my father's large domains, + Are plunder'd by the murderous bands; +And my Northumbria's fertile plains, + Lie wasted by their cruel hands; + +"Though, as a son, I mourn the fate + Of those, to whom my life I owe; +And hate the hearts that thus create + The dimness of severest woe; + +"Though I behold no friendly steel, + To give my Emma vengeance, drawn; +And though a brother's pangs I feel, + To know her destitute, forlorn; + +"Though, banish'd from the sight of day, + In dreary solitude I pine; +And, forc'd to feel a tyrant's sway, + Each dear paternal right resign; + +"Yet will I seal my lips; nor dare + To extricate my haughty foes: +The hateful, guilty root I spare, + Which can produce so fair a rose. + +"But thou, my heart, wilt thou be calm? + Oh! tell me, can reflection cease; +And this fond bosom, now so warm, + Be ever tranquilliz'd to peace! + +"Ah, no! a father's scornful eye + Is ever present to my view; +And tells me, Herbert dar'd to die, + Though Normans could his son subdue. + +"Each feeble plea his soul disdains, + They cannot for the fault atone; +Though, when I left Northumbria's plains, + I had not fifteen summers known. + +"And hear me, Herbert, when I swear + It was not fear that urg'd my flight; +A worthless life was not my care, + I thought but of a parent's right. + +"Then pardon that my youth comply'd, + To ease a mother's anxious fears +That, when I rather would have died, + I yielded to a sister's tears. + +"Alas! a peasant's humble shed, + Soon saw our sainted parents' death, +Who, while our hearts in anguish bled, + With pious hopes resign'd her breath. + +"When mists foretel the ev'ning near, + And clouds of chilling dew arise, +We sought the grave of her so dear, + And offer'd there our tears and sighs. + +"'Till mild reflection lent her aid, + And bade our filial sorrows cease; +The fever of our souls allay'd, + We sunk into a mournful peace. + +"My pensive bosom strove to keep + A dying mother's last request; +I let the thoughts of vengeance sleep, + And studied to make Emma blest. + +"No longer shunning of the dawn, + Or seeking the sequester'd shade, +I call'd my sister to the lawn, + And trod with her the flow'ry glade. + +"Submitting to our wayward fate, + I talk'd not of the treasures flown; +But still seem'd easy and sedate, + While pressing verdure not my own. + +"Then all I wish'd, and all I fear'd, + Was by fraternal love inspir'd; +And one, by every tie endear'd, + The only friend my soul desir'd. + +"Yet soon that pleasing calmness fled, + A Norman beauty won my heart, +Imperious love my footsteps led, + And bade all secrecy depart. + +"I own'd the splendour of my race, + Altho' a peasant's form I bore; +I fancied silence was disgrace, + And hid my sentiments no more. + +"Her father's tongue my fate decreed, + And doom'd great Herbert's son to shame; +For, tho' by love from prison freed, + I bear an outlaw's hateful name. + +"My sister no fond friend can shield, + No relative allay her grief; +For tyranny all hearts hath steel'd, + And nought can give her soul relief. + +"With ev'ry quality to charm, + A guardian will not heaven allow, +To screen thy artless youth from harm, + And, fair deserted! help thee now! + +"No aid, no comfort, can be nigh! + And shall thy brother here remain? +Has he not fortitude to fly, + And burst the heavy, servile chain? + +"Why should I linger here alone, + Unseen by every human eye? +To live unfriended and unknown, + And in this dreary desart die. + +"For now the sun-beams gild the sky, + And give the misty morning grace, +Far from the light I'm doom'd to fly, + Abandon'd by the human race. + +"But no! I'll bear suspense no more! + Too dear a price to purchase breath; +I'll seek the scenes I yet deplore, + And meet a welcome, wish'd-for, death." + +Tortur'd to frenzy, Alwin flew, + And as he left his sad retreat, +He, turning, look'd a last adieu, + And shook the dew-drops from his feet. + +His hurried steps nor press'd the ground, + Nor pointed out the path he came; +And, though so long the way he found, + Despair buoy'd up his fainting frame. + +The sun shot forth a feeble ray, + But hid his glorious orb from sight, +And the pale evening's modest grey, + Had soften'd the too-glaring light, + +When Alwin reach'd the humble cot, + That once he did with Emma share, +And, weeping, hail'd the well-known spot, + In vain, for Emma was not there. + +Repuls'd, he turn'd his languid eye, + Where Ranulph's lofty turrets rose; +And, heaving disappointment's sigh, + He sought the mansion of his foes. + +His faltering step, when there he came, + A proud, disdainful air possest; +Memory recall'd his former shame, + And indignation fill'd his breast. + +He enter'd, in his wild attire, + With hasty pace and haggard brow, +Scorn fill'd his azure eye with fire, + And gave his cheeks a deeper glow. + +A graceful knight who met his view, + Sat pleading by a lady's side; +And Alwin's jealous bosom knew + Lord Percy, and his fated bride. + +Mistaken youth! thy eyes have seen, + The persons pictur'd in thy mind; +But who is that, with pensive mien, + And forehead on her hand reclin'd? + +O'er whom Lord Ranulph fondly bends, + With sorrow seated on his brow; +While the regretting tear descends + O'er his pale cheek, in silent woe. + +"Ah! is it thus?" sad Alwin said, + The fancied bride the accents knew, +Lord Percy rais'd his drooping head, + And lovely Emma met his view. + +Then rapture and surprize prevail'd, + Each bosom felt confus'd delight; +While his return the mourner hail'd, + And thus his sorrows did requite. + +"O, dearest Alwin, now no more + My father disapproves our flame; +No longer we thy loss deplore, + Or tremble to pronounce thy name. + +"A noble friend has gain'd our cause, + And vanquish'd all his former hate; +Who, ere he own'd a lover's laws, + With generous tears had wept thy fate." + +"Yes, injur'd youth," Lord Ranulph cried, + "Thou art this day my chosen heir; +In Adelaide behold thy bride, + Thy sister's future husband, there. + +"Lord Percy, to a candid mind, + Unites a fervour like thy own; +And Emma, not to merit blind, + Refers his cause to thee alone. + +"If thou wilt grant his fond desire, + 'Twill gain a brave, a noble friend; +And the possessions of thy sire, + To his posterity descend." + +"And did my Emma stay to hear, + Her brother sanctify her choice? +Ah Percy! now you need not fear + From Alwin, a dissenting voice. + +"Blest in my love, in Emma blest, + My heart each cherish'd wish obtains; +Northumbrians, now no more opprest, + Shall own a son of Herbert reigns. + +"May ye rebuild the peasant's cot, + Exalt the woe-depressed head, +And o'er each desolated spot, + The fostering calm of quiet spread! + +"May sterne reserve and caution cease! + With lenient hand dispense your sway; +Give them the healing balm of peace, + Their wounded spirits will obey. + +"Ah! cheer their gloom! dispel their care! + The smile will soon replace the tear; +And, wedded to a Saxon fair, + The foreign lord no more appear." + +1794. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 10: "Wreathing his arms in this sad knot."--SHAKESPERE'S +TEMPEST.] + +[Footnote 11: Lord of Cumberland.] + + + + +INVITATION, + +To J.B.C. + + +Now spring appears, with beauty crown'd, +And all is light and life around, +Why comes not Jane? When friendship calls, +Why leaves she not Augusta's walls? +Where cooling zephyrs faintly blow, +Nor spread the cheering, healthful glow. +That glides through each awaken'd vein, +As skimming o'er the spacious plain, +We look around with joyous eye, +And view no boundaries but the sky. + +Already April's reign is o'er, +Her evening tints delight no more; +No more the violet scents the gale, +No more the mist o'erspreads the vale; +The lovely queen of smiles and tears, +Who gave thee birth, no more appears; +But blushing May, with brow serene, +And vestments of a livelier green, +Commands the winged choir to sing, +And with wild notes the meadows ring. + +O come! ere all the train is gone, +No more to hail thy twenty-one; +That age which higher honor shares, +And well becomes the wreath it wears. +From lassitude and cities flee, +And breathe the air of heav'n, with me. + + +MAY 5, 1795. + + + + +WRITTEN ON + +WHITSUN-MONDAY, + +1795. + + +At an open window sitting, + On this day of mirth and glee, +'Cross a flow'ry vista flitting, + Many passing forms I see. +Ah! lovely prospect, stay awhile! + And longer glad my doating eye, +With poverty's delighted smile, + And lighten'd step, as passing by; + +With labour's spruce and ruddy train, + Deck'd out in all their best array, +Who, months of toil and care disdain, + Paid by the pleasures of a day. +The village girl still let me view, + Hast'ning to the neighb'ring fair; +Her cap adorn'd with pink or blue, + And nicely smooth her glossy hair. + +With sparkling eye and smiling face, + Ting'd o'er with beauty's warmest glow; +With timid air, and humble grace, + With clear and undepressed brow. +Go! lovely girl, and share the day, + To thy industrious merit due; +There join the dance, or choral lay; + Thou blooming, village rose, adieu! + +And thou, O youth, so blythe and free, + Bounding swiftly o'er the plain, +Go, taste the joys of liberty, + And cheer thy spirit, happy swain! +How different to the lonely hour, + When slowly following the plough, +Self-buoyant joy forgets the pow'r, + Which warms thy gladden'd bosom now. + +If some rural prize desiring, + Or ambitious of applause, +Loud huzzas thy wishes firing, + Thy steady hand the furrow draws; +Ne'er a victor fam'd in story, + Greater praise and reverence drew, +Than thou, attir'd in humble glory, + So, guiltless conqueror, adieu! + +Oh, here a charming group appears! + A cottage family, so gay, +Whose youthful hopes, uncheck'd by fears, + In smiles of thoughtless rapture play. +Here, borne in fond, parental arms, + The infant's roving eye we view; +Boasting a thousand, thousand charms, + Endearing innocents, adieu! + +They go! no more with beating heart, + And lively, dancing step to tread; +Unwillingly will they depart, + To seek again their homely shed. +Ah! Eve, I love thy veil of grey, + Which will conceal them from my view, +For, bending home their weary way, + How sad would be our last adieu! + + + * * * * * + +_The following was suggested by reading a whimsical description, given +by Scarron, of the deformity of his person, contrasted with its former +elegance, in the Curiosities of Literature, vol. 2, page 247_. + + * * * * * + + + + +PHILEMON. + + +Ye blooming youth, possest of every grace, + Which can delight the eye, or please the ear, +Who boast a polish'd mind and faultless face, + Awhile the councils of Philemon hear! + +Let not pride lift the thoughtless head too high, + Temerity arch o'er the scornful brow, +Contemptuous glances arm the sparkling eye, + Or the high heart with self-complacence glow! + +Alas! full soon the eve of life arrives, + Though pale Disease's train approach not nigh; +Short is the summer of the happiest lives, + If no rude storm disturbs the smiling sky. + +This wretched body, bending to the earth, + Once, on the wings of health, alert and gay, +Shone forth the foremost in the train of mirth, + And cloudless skies announc'd a beauteous day. + +My parents oft, with fond complacence view'd, + The elegance of my external form; +And thought my mind with excellence endued, + Bright as my genius, as my fancy warm. + +There was a time, poor as I now appear, + I admiration met in every look; +And, harsh as now my words may grate your ear, + Each tongue was silent when Philemon spoke. + +Once could this voice make every bosom thrill, + As it pour'd forth the light or plaintive lay; +And once these fingers, with superior skill, + Upon the lute could eloquently play. + +By partial friendship sooth'd, by flattery fann'd, + I learnt with conscious grace the dance to lead, +To guide the Phaeton with careless hand, + And rule, with flowing rein, the prancing steed. + +Sick with the glory of a trifler's fame, + By folly nurtur'd, I was proud and vain; +Till Chastisement in kindest mercy came, + Though then her just decrees I dar'd arraign. + +The form that sought so late the public view, + That glow'd with transport, as the world admir'd, +Fill'd with false shame, from every eye withdrew, + And to the shades of solitude retir'd. + +Consum'd by fevers, spiritless, forlorn, + Blasted by apoplexy's dreadful rage, +My bleeding heart by keen remembrance torn, + I past my prime in premature old age. + +I heard my parent's ill-suppressed sighs, + And wish'd myself upon the peaceful bier; +I saw the anguish of their sleepless eyes, + The smile dissembled, and the secret tear. + +Oft, with a kind of gratifying woe, + I recollected every former charm, +And, with the spleen of a malicious foe, + Delighted still to keep my sorrows warm. + +"Where is the lustre of the gladsome eye, + The airy smile, the animated mien, +The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye, + So lately envied, now no longer seen. + +"I too have gloried in my waving hair, + No ringlets now remain to raise my pride; +Nor can I now lay the white forehead bare, + And push the too luxuriant locks aside." + +Thus, like a child, I sigh'd for pleasures past, + And lost my hours in a delusive dream; +But Reason op'd my blinded eyes at last, + And clear'd each mist by her refulgent beam. + +I saw futurity before me spread, + A scourge or sceptre offer'd to my view, +Alarm'd, from Folly's erring mazes fled, + And to my God with humble rev'rence drew. + +I bow'd, submissive, at the holy shrine, + His mercy with warm gratitude confest, +Which had reveal'd the spark of life divine, + That slumber'd in my earth-enamoured breast. + +Had I, as friendship and self-love desir'd, + Still suck'd delirium at the fane of praise, +I might, my conscience lull'd and passions fir'd, + Have lost my soul in the bewitching blaze. + +Dear rising train, let not my words offend! + Nor the pure dictates of my love despise; +To one, late like yourselves, attention lend, + And, taught by his experience, be wise! + +Ah! banish from your eye the fiend Disdain; + Let fair simplicity supply its place; +Nor longer let conceit the bosom stain; + The child of weakness, follow'd by disgrace. + +Should time from you each glowing beauty wrest, + You will not then those self-reproaches feel, +Which every eye awaken'd in my breast, + And twenty winters scarce suffic'd to heel. + +Nor will your friends observe each faded charm, + Since still your countenance its smile retains, +And the same lov'd companion, kind and warm, + With unassuming manners, yet remains. + + +SEPT. 8, 1795. + + + + +ON A FAN. + + +Now I've painted these flowers, say what can I do, +To render them worthy acceptance from you? +I know of no sybil, whose wonderful art +Could to them superior virtues impart, +Who, of magical influence wonders could tell, +And, who over each blossom could mutter a spell. + +You only the humbler enchantments can prove, +That arise from esteem, from respect, and from love; +With such I assail you, and pow'rful the charm, +When applied to a heart sympathetic and warm; +To a heart such as that, which, if right I divine, +O C--ll--n--n! dwells in that bosom of thine. + +NOV. 10, 1795. + + + + +TO SIMPLICITY. + + +Fair village nymph, ah! may I meet + Thy pleasing form where'er I stray! +With open air and converse sweet, + Still cheer my undiscover'd way! + +With eyes, that shew the placid mind, + And with no feign'd emotions roll; +With mien, that sprightly or resign'd, + Bespeaks the temper of the soul. + +With smiles, where not the lips alone + Receive a brighter, vermil hue, +The cheek does warmer roses own, + And the eyes beam, a deeper blue! + +Though Fashion's minions scorn thy pow'r, + And slight thee, 'cause in russet drest, +Yet Joy frequents thy peaceful bow'r, + And sorrow flies to thee for rest. + +The echoing laugh, the rapturous tear, + The smile of friendship, gay and free, +Delight but when they are sincere, + And given, lovely nymph, by thee. + +When my Rosina reads a tale, + Though sweet the tuneful accents flow, +No studied pathos does prevail + To bid the hearer's bosom glow; + +Her voice to sympathy resign'd, + Each different feeling can impart. +And, tell me not, we e'er can find + A modulator, like the heart! + +And Mary's locks of glossy brown, + That fall in waves, with graceful swell, +In ever-varying ringlets thrown, + The fairest curls of art excel. + +Still rob'd in innocence and ease, + Daughter of Truth, shall thou prevail, +When Affectation cannot please, + And all the spells of Fashion fail. + + +NOV. 17, 1795. + + + + +THE TERRORS OF GUILT. + + +Yon coward, with the streaming hair, +And visage, madden'd to despair, +With step convuls'd, unsettled eye, +And bosom lab'ring with a sigh, +Is _Guilt!_--Behold, he hears the name, +And starts with horror, fear, and shame! + +See! slow Suspicion by his side, + With winking, microscopic eye! +And Mystery, his muffled guide, + With fearful speech, and head awry. + +See! scowling Malice there attend, +Bold Falsehood, an apparent friend; +Avarice, repining o'er his pelf, +Mean Cunning, lover of himself; +Hatred, the son of conscious Fear, +Impatient Envy, with a fiend-like sneer, +And shades of blasted Hopes, which still are hovering near! + +All other woes will find relief, +And time alleviate every grief; +Memory, though slowly, will decay, +And Sorrow's empire pass away. +Awhile Misfortune may controul, +And Pain oppress the virtuous soul, +Yet Innocence can still beguile +The patient sufferer of a smile, +The beams of Hope may still dispense +A grateful feeling to the sense; +Friendship may cast her arms around, +And with fond tears embalm the wound, +Or Piety's soft incense rise, +And waft reflection to the skies; +But those fell pangs which he endures, +Nor Time forgets, nor Kindness cures; +Like Ocean's waves, they still return, +Like Etna's fires, forever burn. + +Round him no genial zephyrs fly, +No fair horizon glads his eye, +No joys to him does Nature yield, +The solemn grove, or laughing field; +Though both with loud rejoicings ring, +No pleasure does the echo bring, +Not bubbling waters as they roll, +Can tranquillize his bursting soul, +For Conscience still, with tingling smart, +Asserts his empire o'er his heart, +And even when his eye-lids close, +With clamourous scream affrights repose. + +Oppress'd with light, he seeks to shun +The splendid glories of the sun; +The busy crowds that hover near, +Torment his eye, distract his ear; +He hastens to the secret shades, +Where not a ray the gloom pervades; +Where Contemplation may retreat, +And Silence take his mossy seat; +Yet even there no peace he knows, +His fev'rish blood, no calmer flows; +Some hid assassins 'vengeful knife, +Is rais'd to end his wretched life. +He shudders, starts, and stares around, +With breathless fright, to catch the fancied sound; +Seeks for the dagger in his breast, +And gripes it 'neath his ruffled vest. + +Lo! now he plunges in the flood, +To cleanse his garments, stain'd with blood, +His sanguine arm, in terror, laves; +But ah! its hue defies the waves. +Deprest, bewildered, thence he flies, +And, to avoid Detection, tries, +Who, frowning, still before him stands, +The sword of Justice in her hands; +Abhorrent Scorn, unpitying Shame, +And Punishments without a name, +Still on her sounding steps attend, +And every added horror lend. +He turns away, with dread and fear, +But the fell spectres still are near. +Though Falsehood's mazes see him wind! +Yet Infamy is close behind, +Lifting her horn, with horrors fraught, +Whose hideous yell is frenzy to the thought. + +Now, maniac-like, he comes again, +And mixes with the jocund train; +But still those eyes that wildly roll, +Bespeak the tempest in his soul. +In yon deep cave he strives to rest, +But Mem'ry harrows up his breast; +He clasps the goblet, foe to Care, +And lo! Distraction hovers there. + +Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to know, +The sad varieties of woe; +Where'er thy footsteps turn, to meet, +An earthquake yawning at thy feet, +While o'er thy head pale meteors glare, +And boding tempests fill the air, +In throbbing anguish doom'd to roam, +Yet never find a peaceful home. +Haste! to the shrine of Mercy hie, +There lift the penitential eye, +With breaking heart thy sins deplore, +And wound Integrity no more! +Repentance then thy soul shall save, +And snatch thee, ransom'd, from the grave. + +JULY 1796. + + + * * * * * + +_The death of Selred, last King of the East-Saxons, reduced that part +of the Heptarchy to dependance on Mercia. The rest is imaginary_. + + * * * * * + + + + +CEN'LIN, PRINCE OF MERCIA. + + +When Britain many chiefs obey'd, +And seven Saxon princes sway'd, +The Mercian monarch, fam'd afar, +In peace respected, fear'd in war, +Favour'd by heav'n above the rest, +In his brave son was fully blest; +For none like Cen'lin did arise, +So virtuous, elegant, and wise. + +Of partial Mercian eyes the joy, +His parents idoliz'd the boy; +Saw with just pride each op'ning grace, +His charms of mind, of form, and face. +And as he oft, with modest air, +His thoughts and feelings did declare, +His father would delighted hear, +Would fondly drop the grateful tear; +And proudly cast his eyes around, +But not an equal could be found. +Warm from each lip applauses broke, +And every tongue his praises spoke; +The list'ning courtiers spread his fame, +And blessings follow'd Cen'lins name. + +Now twenty summer's suns had flown, +And Mercia's hopes were fully blown; +When ah! conceal'd in coarse disguise, +To Selred's[12] court their darling flies. +Selred, his father's scorn and hate, +Became the ruler of his fate. +There flatter'd, lov'd, the youth remain'd, +Till Cenulph's threats his heir regain'd. +But ah! no more the son of mirth, +His pensive eye now sought the earth; +No more within the dance to move, +Or list to sages, did he love; +But from surrounding friends would fly, +To pour in solitude the sigh. +And soon again the youth withdrew, +Again to th' Eastern-Saxons flew. +His father heard, opprest with woe, +His aged heart forgot to glow; +He learnt his foes an army led, +With youthful Cen'lin at their head, +He call'd his warriors forth to meet, +And stretch the rebel at his feet: +Tears from his eyes in anguish broke, +As thus the aged monarch spoke: + +"Ye Mercians, let your banners fly! +The graceless youth this day shall die! +For, since he dares an army bring +Against his father and his king, +Though dear as life, I will not spare, +Nor listen to affection's pray'r! +If all my people should implore, +I'll pardon the rash boy no more! +His harden'd heart, to duty blind, +No ties of gratitude can bind; +This hoary head would else have rest, +And pleasure warm this aching breast. +Ah, cruel youth! thy wrongs I feel, +More deep than wounds of pointed steel. +For, if forlorn the parent's doom, +Who bears his offspring to the tomb, +Some comfort still his breast may know, +Some soothing thought may calm his woe, +And when he gives a loose to pain, +He feels not that he mourns in vain, +But fancies still his darling nigh, +And grateful for each bursting sigh, +Still bending o'er, with list'ning ear, +Each weeping, fond complaint to hear, +The dear-lov'd phantom hovers round, +And pours a balm in every wound. + +"How doubly poignant is my smart, +Bereaved of my Cen'lin's heart! +Exil'd from that deluded breast, +Where I had fondly hop'd to rest, +With faith undoubting, sweet repose, +Till Death should bid my eye-lids close. +And sometimes yet will hope arise; +Till now he ever scorn'd disguise; +Some cursed fiend might taint his youth, +And warp a temper form'd for truth. +When late he humbly knelt for grace, +And clasp'd my knees in close embrace, +Upon his lips a secret hung, +But something seem'd to stay his tongue; +I prest not, for my anger slept, +And fondness only saw he wept; +Ah! fatal haste! then had I known +The serpent, I had sav'd my son! +Yet surely pardon frank as mine, +A noble heart would more confine! +When leaguing with my bitter foe, +To strike some grand, decisive blow; +Perhaps to rob me of my throne, +And make it, ere the time, his own; +Or, should wan guilt a danger dread, +To humble this devoted head, +Each throbbing pang of conscience drown, +And seize, with bloody hands, the crown. +O'er this offence I cast a veil, +And fondly hush'd the whisper'd tale. +Ah fool! deluded by the grace, +Of that fine form, and perfect face; +I thought his bosom free from sin, +Nor dreamt a demon lurk'd within. +His voice, which ever could controul, +Each passion of the hearer's soul, +With ease my partial heart beguil'd, +Who knew no sorrows when he smil'd. +And ah! my friends, your downcast eyes, +Your pensive air, and smother'd sighs, +All tell me you lament the fate, +Of him, whom yet you cannot hate. +And shall I bear then to behold, +That form inanimate and cold, +His smiling lips depriv'd of breath, +His eyes for ever clos'd in death! +Ah no! my heart with anguish swells, +And every throbbing vein rebels. +Let sorrow weep, or anger thrill, +Yet all the parent triumphs still. + +"Oh Father! who in mercy reigns, +If thy all-ruling will ordains, +That my unhappy Cen'lin dies, +Remove the picture from my eyes! +At the same moment set us free, +Both rebel sons, my God, to thee!" +Thus did the king pour forth his pray'r, +With all the wildness of despair; +Then, stilling every rising sigh, +He calm'd the anguish of his eye, +And though within the burthen lay, +He wip'd the falling tears away. + +When lo! there comes a youthful train, +Descending swiftly to the plain, +Drest like the fairest sons of day, +In floating robes and colours gay; +No crested helmets there appear, +No glittering shield or pointed spear, +But youths with honey-suckles crown'd, +Or their fair locks with fillets bound, +Whose circling ranks and varied dyes, +Shew'd like the bow, that gilds the skies. +Whilst in the van a pair were seen, +Of peerless charms and graceful mien; +One lovely form the Mercians knew, +And gladden'd at the pleasing view, +Who, with the glow of youthful prime, +Had all the majesty of time. +And beauteous was the fair he led, +As any fabled Grecian maid; +The nymphs who tend Aurora's car, +And usher in the morning star, +Though made inhabitants of air, +Were not more elegant and fair; +Nor Dian's ever-healthful train, +When skimming o'er the spacious plain. +Had not more pure, more lively dyes, +Or brighter lustre in their eyes. + +The king, so late by woe deprest, +Felt hope reanimate his breast, +And as his Cen'lin nearer drew, +His waking hopes more vivid grew. +"My friends," he cried, "will you believe, +That open mien can e'er deceive? +That blooming form can e'er unfold, +A heart ungenerous and cold, +That melting softness of the eye, +Can harbour direst cruelty? +Ah no! a poison's baleful pow'r, +Lurks not beneath so fair a flow'r. +Nor are those youths with amber hair, +Such as fell treason would prepare, +An aged monarch to dethrone, +And hear, unmov'd, a father's groan. +Gay are their looks, no dark disguise, +Dims the mild radiance of their eyes; +No murderous thoughts their souls employ, +But, heralds of transporting joy, +They come to bid suspicion cease, +And sooth my sorrow into peace." +Caution could scarce awhile controul +The strong delights of Cenulph's soul, +When Cen'lin knelt, and by his side +Half-kneeling, bent his lovely bride. +But, when he first essay'd to speak, +A hasty blush pass'd o'er his cheek, +He hung awhile his graceful head, +Till thus, with air confus'd he said: +"I come, by love with honours crown'd, +Yet sorrow casts a shade around, +That when my consort here I bring, +The heiress of a potent king, +The Mercians, clad in armour, come, +To lead their princess to her home. +No joyful hail our nuptial greets, +No proof of love my Ela meets, +But scarlet banners, waving high, +The bridal knot and wreath supply. +Alas! I see mistrust has won +E'en Cenulph's fondness from his son; +Or could my ever-honour'd sire, +A proof of Cen'lin's faith require? +Can force so needful now appear, +To aid a pow'r which I revere? +When eager beauty's form to view, +I first to Selred's court withdrew, +A single wish thy pow'r maintain'd, +A single wish thy son regain'd. +I left the maid whose matchless charms, +Each rooted prejudice disarms, +Who rul'd my heart with sovereign sway, +And taught a Mercian to obey +Laws that East-Saxons can impart, +When wit and beauty string the dart; +Left her when hope my doubts beguil'd, +And on our love her father smil'd. +Oft have I tried to win thine ear, +The fond, romantic tale to hear, +But when I found a lonely hour, +My coward soul has lost the pow'r; +As on my lips the accents hung, +Thy hate to Selred check'd my tongue. +Yet flattering hopes my passion fed, +And from thy court again I fled; +I thought when you my fair beheld, +And knew how greatly she excell'd, +In every charm, each art refin'd, +And virtue of the female mind, +Thy judgment would approve my choice, +And bless it with a cheerful voice. +And ah! though fortune did combine +With love, in making Ela mine, +I cannot from a grief refrain, +Remembering that I gave thee pain. +Yet if thy Cen'lin e'er could please, +If e'er my cares could give thee ease, +Let mild affection now arise, +And beam forgiveness from thine eyes! +No more thy son shall make thee know +A pain, or give thee cause of woe. +No nights the Mercians have to fear, +For all I love is center'd here," +He spoke, and o'er his father's soul, +A stream of healing comfort stole; +He rose, with slow, majestic grace, +Tears of delight adorn'd his face, +His pious heart with rapture glow'd, +And joy a second youth bestow'd. + +"To meet thee thus, my son," he cried, +"This peerless maiden for your bride, +Bids each distressing thought depart, +And joy again possess my heart. +Fair princess, thine the happy fate, +To heal the wounds of mutual hate; +No longer shall this bosom know, +An Eastern-Saxon as my foe; +And she, who bids that passion rest, +Doubt not, shall be supremely blest; +The part is holy and benign, +Befitting such a form as thine. +This day, far dearer than before, +Kind heav'n does twice my son restore, +For by those speaking looks I see, +Another valued child in thee." + +As then he raised them to his breast, +Around the joyful Mercians prest, +And made their shouts of triumph rise, +To the fair concave of the skies. + +OCTOBER 1795. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 12: King of the East-Saxons.] + + + + +RHAPSODY. + + +Lo! here a cloud comes sailing, richly clad +In royal purple, which the parting beams +Of bounteous Phoebus edge with tints of gold +And lucid crimson. One might fancy it +A noble bird, that laves its graceful form, +And bathes its rosy bosom in the light. +Look! how it swells and rears its snowy crest +With haughty grandeur; while the blue expanse, +In smiling patience lets the boaster pass, +And swell his train with all the lazy vapours +That hover in the air: an easy prey +To the gigantic phantom, whose curl'd wing, +Sweeps in these worthless triflers of the sky, +And wraps them in his bosom. Go, vain shadow! +Sick with the burthen of thy fancied greatness, +A breath of zephyr wafts thee into nothing, +Scatters thy spreading plumes, uncrowns thy front, +And drives thee downward to thy mother earth, +To mix with vapour and dissolve in dew. + +Such are the dreams of hope, which to the eye +Of youthful inexperience, seem to touch +The pure, unclouded sky of certainty. +Buoy'd up by the fond eloquence of thought, +And nurtur'd by the smile of vanity, +Each hour the air-born vision gathers bulk, +And Fancy decks it with a thousand hues, +Varied and wild, till it abounds in charms +Which sink the soul to sadness, when the breath +Of gentle Reason breaks the beauteous bubble, +And leaves us nought but vain regret behind. + + +FEBRUARY 1, 1797. + + + + +HUMAN PLEASURE OR PAIN. + + +When clouds and rain deform the sky, + And light'nings glare around, +Amidst the dreary, cheerless scene, + Some comfort may be found. + +There will, at some far-distant spot, + A streak of light appear, +Or, when the sullen vapours break, + The ether will be clear. + +And if the sun illumes the east, + And sheds his gladsome ray, +Some boding mist, or passing cloud + Will threat the rising day. + +The heart rejoicing in the view, + And dancing with delight, +Oft feels the touch of palsied fear, + And sinks at thought of night. + +So Hope's bright torch more clearly shines, + Amidst surrounding gloom, +And, beldame Fortune vainly throws + Her mantle o'er the tomb. + + +MARCH 15,1797. + + + + +THE COMPLAINT OF FANCY. + +To A.R.C. + + +As, musing, late I sat reclin'd, +And waking dreams absorb'd my mind, +A damsel came, of various dyes, +Like painted Iris from the skies; +A purfled saffron was her vest, +And sweet gum-cistus form'd her crest; +In many a playful ring, her hair +Flew light and flossy in the air; +The mantle, blue and gold, she wore, +A rose of opals held before, +While, graceful in her fairy hand, +Appear'd a crimson-tufted wand, +Whose shade on every object threw +A glowing tint of roseate hue. + +"Whence art thou, blooming nymph?" I cried, +And thus a tuneful voice replied: +"Men call me Fancy; at my shrine +Myriads confess my power divine; +There painters bend the willing knee, +And laurell'd poets sue to me: +For mine is every vivid ray, +Which partial Nature gave the day; +And, to the music of my song, +A thousand nameless charms belong. + +"The friend of Happiness, I dwell +Belov'd alike in court or cell; +Where Glory lifts her ardent eye, +With hasty, kindred zeal I fly, +In sun-beams place the hero's form, +And bid his arm command the storm; +On swelling clouds an altar raise, +And fan the tow'ring flame of praise. + +"Oft, from the lorn enthusiast's lyre, +My fingers strike etherial fire, +And give to sounds of piercing woe, +Extatic rapture's fervent glow. +Oft sooth the maniac's throbbing vein, +And grace her simple, wilder'd strain; +The tribe of Pain in fetters keep, +Lull wounded Memory to sleep, +And, in the mind of gloomy Care, +Bid Thought an angel's semblance wear. + +"Dear to each blest aerial pow'r, +E'en Wisdom calls me to her bow'r; +My songs her leisure hours beguile, +And teach her holy lip to smile. +And, when the Muse, with thoughtful care, +Has woven chaplets for her hair, +I let her, with her myrtles, twine, +Full many a fragrant rose of mine. + +"Then why, since all the wise and gay, +To me a grateful homage pay, +Since I to all my hand extend, +And, liberal, every heart befriend, +Does Nancy from the croud retire, +And rend my blossoms from her lyre? +Though every string the loss bewail, +And tones of mellow sweetness fail, +Which us'd to charm the pensive ear, +When list'ning Friendship bent to hear. + +"Tell her I wish not to intrude +Upon her sacred solitude, +Nor cast my undulating chain, +Around her glowing heart again; +No! every claim I now resign, +Yet let some small regard be mine; +Let one, who nurs'd her infant years, +And wip'd away some bitter tears, +Still animate the scenes around, +And make her tread on fairy ground; +Give playful sweetness to each lay, +And decorate the passing day. + +"Tell her, if now she scorns my strain, +She may invoke my name in vain; +In vain my proffered aid implore, +Contemn'd, I hardly pardon more." + +She said, and springing from the earth, +Attending found her suitor Mirth, +Who caught her hand, with lively air, +And plac'd her in his silver chair, +Which through the yielding ether flew, +And quickly bore them from my view. + + + + +ON THE EVE OF DEPARTURE FROM O---- + + +Loud beats the rain! The hollow groan + Of rushing winds I hear, +That with a deep and sullen moan, + Pass slowly by the ear. + +Soon will my dying fire refuse + To yield a cheerful ray, +Yet, shivering still I sit and muse + The latest spark away. + +Ah, what a night! the chilly air + Bids comfort hence depart, +While sad repining's clammy wings + Cling icy, to my heart. + +To-morrow's dawn may fair arise, + And lovely to the view; +The sun with radiance gild the skies, + Yet then--I say adieu! + +Oh, stay, dear Night, with cautious care, + And lingering footsteps move, +Though day may be more soft and fair, + Not her, but thee, I love. + +Stay, wild in brow, severe in mien, + Stay! and ward off the foe; +Who, unrelenting smiles serene, + Yet tells me I must go. + +Forsake these hospitable halls, + Where Truth and Friendship dwell, +To these high towers and ancient walls, + Pronounce a long farewell. + +Alas! will Time's rapacious hand, + These golden days restore? +Or will he suffer me to taste + These golden days no more? + +Will he permit that here again, + I turn my willing feet? +That my glad eyes may here again, + The look of kindness meet? + +That here I ever may behold, + Felicity to dwell, +And often have the painful task + Of sighing out farewell? + +Ah, be it so! my fears I lose, + By hope's sweet visions fed; +And as I fly to seek repose, + She flutters round my bed. + + +NOV. 17, 1796. + + + + +TO M.I. + + +Thou, Margaret, lov'st the secret shade, + The murmuring brook, or tow'ring tree; +The village cot within the glade, + And lonely walk have charms for thee. + +To thee more dear the jasmine bow'r, + That shelt'ring, undisturb'd retreat, +Than the high canopy of pow'r, + Or Luxury's embroider'd seat. + +More sweet the early morning breeze, + Whose odours fill the rural vale, +The waving bosom of the seas, + When ruffled by the rising gale. + +Than all which pride or pomp bestow, + To grace the lofty Indian maid, +Who prizes more the diamond's glow, + Than all in humbler vest array'd. + +Sweet is the rural festive song, + Which sounds so wildly o'er the plain, +When thoughtless mirth the notes prolong, + And heart-felt pleasure pours the strain. + +Sweet is the dance where light and gay, + The village maiden trips along; +Her simple robe in careless play, + As her fleet step winds round the throng. + +Sweet is the labourer's blazing fire, + When evening shades invite to rest; +Though weary, home does joy inspire, + And social love dilates his breast. + +His rural lass with glee prepares, + The dainties fondness made her hoard; +Her husband now the banquet shares, + And children croud around the board. + +Ah! who could wish to view the air + Of listless ease and languid wealth? +Who with such pleasures could compare + The joys of innocence and health? + + +AUGUST 20, 1796. + + + + +CANTATA. DEL METASTASIO. + + +"D'atre nubi è il sol ravvolto, + Luce infausta il Ciel colora. + Pur chi sa? Quest' alma ancora + La speranza non perdè. + +Non funesta ogni tempesta + Co' naufragj all' onde il seno; + Ogni tuono, ogni baleno + Sempre un fulmine non è." + + + + +TRANSLATION. + + +Dark, mournful clouds hang o'er the sun, + Lights gleam portentous in the air, +And yet who knows? This troubled heart + Still gives not up to blank despair. + +Not big with shipwrecks every storm, + That sweeps the bosom of the main, +Nor does the threatening, turbid sky, + Always the thunder-bolt contain. + + + + +LA FORTUNA. DELLO STESSO. + + +A chi serena io miro, + Chiaro è di notte il cielo: + Torna per lui nel gelo + La terra a germogliar. + +Ma se a taluno io giro + Torbido il guardo, e fosco, + Fronde gli niega il bosco, + Onde non trova in mar. + + + + +TRANSLATION. + + +To him whom kindly I behold, + The midnight sky is clear, +And 'mid the wintry frost and cold, + The blushing flowers appear. + +But to the wretch who meets my eye, + When kindled by disdain, +The very grove will leaves deny, + And waveless be the main. + + + + +CANTATA DELLO STESSO. + + +Finchè un zeffiro soave + Tien del mar l'ira placata, + Ogni nave + È fortunata, + È felice ogni nocchier; + +È ben prova di coraggio + Incontrar l'onde funeste, + Navigar fra le tempeste, + E non perdere il sentier. + + + + +TRANSLATION. + + +Whilst zephyr sooths the angry waves + Of Ocean into rest, +Each vessel is in safety borne, + And every pilot blest. + +But he indeed demands our praise, + Who stems the tempest's force, +And midst the ire of hostile waves, + Pursues his destin'd course. + + + + +SONETTO. + +DI GIOVANNI DELLA CASA. + + +Oh sonno, oh della cheta, umida, ombrosa + Notte placido figlio; oh de' mortali + Egri conforto, oblio dolce de' mali, + Sì gravi, ond' è la vita aspra, e nojosa: +Soccorri al core omai, che langue, e posa + Non have; e queste membra stanche, e frali + Solleva: a me ten vola, oh sonno, e l'ali + Tue brune sovra me distendi, e posa. +Ov' è il silenzio, che'l dì fugge, e'l lume? + E i lievi sogni, che con non secure + Vestigia di seguirti han per costume? +Lasso, che'nvan te chiamo, e queste oscure, + E gelide ombre invan lusingo; oh piume + D'asprezza colme; oh notti acerbe, e dure! + + + + +SONNET, TO SLEEP. + +TRANSLATION. + + +Son of the silent, dark, and humid Night, + Consoler of the wretched, by whose sway +The gloomy train of ills are put to flight, + That blacken Life's uncertain, tedious day, + +O! succour now this restless, pining heart! + Give to these feeble, weary limbs repose! +Fly to me, Sleep! and let thy sombre wings + Over my couch their dusky plumes disclose! + +O! where is Silence, who avoids the light? + Where the wild dreams that flutter in thy train? +Alas! in vain I call thee, cruel Night! + And flatter these insensate shades in vain. + +And oh! without thy cheering dews are shed, +How full of hardships is the downy bed! + + + + +EDITHA. + + +Breathing the violet-scented gale, + Near to a river's limpid source, +Which, through a wide-extended vale, + Wound slowly on its sleeping course, + +Attended by a youthful pair, + With rubied lip and roving eye, +Oft would fair Editha repair, + And let her children wander nigh. + +There pleas'd behold their footsteps turn, + To each new object in their way, +Their ringlets glittering in the sun, + Their faces careless, blythe, and gay. + +Once, when they drest their flaxen hair, + With flow'rets wild of various hue, +And with a proud, exulting air, + To their delighted parent drew: + +"Ah! thus may every day arise! + And pleasure thus your hearts, pervade!" +The widow'd mother fondly cries, + "Before the youthful blossoms fade. + +"My sighs are all dispers'd in air, + Resign'd to fate, I weep no more, +Your welfare now is all my care, + Yet am I constant as before. + +"The world, because a vermil bloom, + Tinges my yet unfading cheek, +Says I forget my William's tomb, + A new and earthly love to seek. + +"Because I join the social train, + With lip that wears a kindred smile; +And a gay sonnet's lively strain, + Does oft the lonely hour beguile: + +"Because no longer now I mourn, + With sweeping robes of sable hue; +No more I clasp the marble urn, + Or vainly bid the world adieu. + +"Ah! ill my secret soul they know, + Where my lost hero still remains, +Where memory makes my bosom glow, + And binds me still in closer chains. + +"Whoe'er hath seen my William's form, + Heighten'd with every martial grace, +The ever-varying, unknown charm, + Which beam'd in his expressive face; + +"Or heard his fine ideas try, + In Fancy's fairy garb to teach, +While the sweet language of his eye, + Excell'd the eloquence of speech, + +"Could ne'er suppose my faith would fail, + Or aught again this heart enslave; +That absence would o'er love prevail, + Or hope be bounded by the grave. + +"Could all but I his merit know? + His wit and talents see? +And is his name by all below + Remember'd, but by me? + +"No, ne'er will I the memory lose, + Though from my sight thy form is flown, +Of tenderness for other's woes, + And noble firmness in thy own. + +"No slavish fear thy soul deprest, + Of Death, or his attendant train; +For in thy pure and spotless breast, + The fear of heav'n did only reign. + +"Thus, when the still-unsated waves + Spread o'er thy head their whelming arms, +When horrid darkness reign'd around, + And lightnings flash'd their dire alarms, + +[13]"When, wing'd with death, each moment flew, + And blood the foaming ocean stain'd, +Thy courage cool, consistent, true, + Its native energy maintain'd. + +"And when the fatal moment came, + The bullet enter'd in thy side, +Only thy spirit's beauteous frame, + Its prisoner flying, droop'd and died. + +"This is it that consoles my mind, + Which to my love aspiring flies, +And makes me hope, in future days, + To hail my William in the skies. + +"Should tears from my pale eyelids steal, + I teach my children's how to flow, +And make their little bosoms feel, + Before their time, the touch, of woe. + +"I will not weep! the world shall see + That I a nobler tribute pay; +More grateful both to heaven and thee, + By guiding them in virtue's way." + +Embracing then her fondest cares, + She cast her raptur'd eyes above, +And breath'd to heav'n emphatic pray'rs, + Of mingled reverence and love. + +APRIL 15, 1795. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 13: I know not if I have expressed myself with much clearness +here, but I meant to describe a sea-fight as concisely as possible.] + + + + +TO M.I. + + +Light breezes dance along the air, + The sky in smiles is drest, +And heav'ns pure vault, serene and fair, + Pourtrays the cheerful breast. + +Each object on this moving ball + Assumes a lovely hue; +So fair good-humour brightens all + That comes within her view. + +Her presence glads the youthful train, + Reanimates the gay, +And, round her, by the couch of pain, + The light-wing'd graces play. + +Her winning mein and prompt reply, + Can sullen pride appease; +And the sweet arching of her eye + E'en apathy must please. + +To you, with whom the damsel dwells + A voluntary guest, +To you, Maria, memory tells, + This tribute is addrest. + +The feeble strains that I bequeath, + With melody o'erpay; +And let thy lov'd piano breathe + A sweet responsive lay. + +Although the mellow sounds will rise, + So distant from my ear, +The charmer Fancy, when she tries, + Can make them present here. + +Can paint thee, as with raptur'd bend, + You hail the powers of song; +When the light fingers quick descend, + And fly the notes along: + +Feel the soft chord of sadness meet, + An echo in the soul, +And waking joy the strains repeat, + When Mirth's-quick measures roll. + +This "mistress of the powerful spell," + Can every joy impart; +And ah! you doubtless know too well + How she can wring the heart. + +She rules me with despotic reign, + As now I say <I>adieu_; +And makes me feel a sort of pain, + As if I spoke to you. + + +FEB. 14, 1797. + + + + +WRITTEN IN ZIMMERMANN'S SOLITUDE. + + +Hail, melancholy sage! whose thoughtful eye, +Shrunk from the mere _spectator's_ careless gaze, +And, in retirement sought the social smile, +The heart-endearing aspect, and the voice +Of soothing tenderness, which Friendship breathes, +And which sounds far more grateful to the ear, +Than the soft notes of distant flute at eve, +Stealing across the waters: Zimmermann! +Thou draw'st not Solitude as others do, +With folded arms, with pensive, nun-like air, +And tearful eye, averted from mankind. +No! warm, benign, and cheerful, she appears +The friend of Health, of Piety, and Peace; +The kind Samaritan that heals our woes, +The nurse of Science, and, of future fame +The gentle harbinger: her meek abode +Is that dear home, which still the virtuous heart, +E'en in the witching maze of Pleasure's dance, +In wild Ambition's dream, regards with love, +And hopes, with fond security, to pass +The evening of a long-protracted day, +Serenely joyful, there. + + + + +IN MEMORY OF MR. AGOSTINO ISOLA, + +OF CAMBRIDGE, + +Who died on the 5th of June, 1797. + + +Awake, O Gratitude! nor let the tears +Of selfish Sorrow smother up thy voice, +When it should speak of a departed friend. +A tender friend, the first I ever lost! +For Destiny till now was merciful, +And though I oft have felt a transient pang, +For worth unknown, and wept awhile for those, +Whom long acquaintance only made me love, +No keen regret laid pining at my heart, +Nor Memory in the solitary hour, +Would sting with grief, as when she speaks +Thy virtue, knowledge, wisdom, gentleness, +Thy venerable age, and says that I +Had once the happiness to call thee friend. + +Yes! I once bore that title, and my heart +Thought nobler of itself, that one so good, +So honor'd, so rever'd, should give it me. +O _Isola!_ when that glad season comes, +Which brought redemption to a ruin'd world, +And, like thee, hides beneath the snow of age, +A gay, benevolent, and feeling heart, +I hop'd again to hear thy tongue repeat, +With youthful warmth and zealous energy, +Those passages, where Poetry assumes +An air divine, and wakes th' attentive soul +To holy rapture! Then you promis'd me +The luxury to weep o'er Dante's muse, +And fair Italia's loftier poets hail. + + I have often heard +That years would blunt the feelings of the soul, +And apathy ice the once-glowing heart. +Injurious prejudice! Dear, guileless friend! +Thou read'st mankind, but saw not, or forgot +Their faults and vices; for thy breast was still +The residence of sweet Simplicity, +Daughter of letter'd Wisdom, and the friend +Of Love and Pity. Happy soul, farewell! +Long shall we mourn thee! longer will it be, +"Ere we shall look upon thy like again!" + + + * * * * * + +This humble tribute to the memory of my venerated friend, was written in +the first impulse of my sorrow for his loss, and though unworthy of his +virtues, is still a small memorial of my respect for a man, on whose +tomb might justly be inscribed, as I have seen on an old monument: + + + "Heven hath his soule. + He fruits of Pietie, + This Towne his want. + Our hearts his Memorie." + + + + +TO THE NUNS OF BODNEY. + + +Ye holy women, say! will ye accept +The passing tribute of a humble friend? +Stranger indeed to you and to your faith, +But O! I hope not stranger to the zeal, +Which warm'd your bosoms in Religion's cause. +When impious men commanded you to break +The vow which bound your souls, and which in youth +Warm Piety's emphatic lips had made. +Say! will ye suffer me on that rude tomb, +Where she reposes (whose benignant smile, +Whose animated, life-inspiring eye, +And faded form, majestic, still appears +In Thought's delusive hour) to shed a tear? +On her, whose sainted look, though seen but once, +I never can forget, till Time shall wrap +The veil of Death around me, and make dumb +The voice of Memory. Ah! "how low she lies!" +No marble monument to speak her praise, +And tell the world that here a DILLON rests. +One, who in beauty's prime forsook the world, +And, _self-bereav'd_ of all it holds most dear, +Retir'd, to pass the pilgrimage of life, +In solemn prayer and peaceful solitude. +Ah, vain desire! Ambition's scowling eye +Must see the cloister, as the palace, low, +And meek-ey'd Quiet quit her last abode, +Ere he can pause to look upon the wreck, +And rue the wild impatience of his hand. + +Hail! blessed spirit! This rude cypher'd stone. +On which a sister's pensive eye shall muse +In sorrow, and another relative +In sweet, though mournful, recollection, bend, +Shall call a tear into the stranger's eye +Whene'er he hears the tale, yet make him proud +That Britain's hospitable land should yield +All that you could accept, _an humble grave_. + + + + +_Written in London, on the 19th of March, 1796._ + + +A lov'd companion, chosen friend, + Does at this hour depart, +Whom the dear name of father binds + Still closer to my heart. + +On him may joy-dispensing heav'n + Each calm delight bestow, +And eas'd of peace-destroying care + His life serenely flow! + +Did I but know his bosom calm, + And free from anxious fear, +Around me in more cheerful hues + Would every scene appear. + +And I will hope that he, who ne'er + Repin'd at heav'n's decree, +But ever patient and resign'd, + Submissive bent the knee: + +Who, best of fathers, never sought + For arbitrary sway, +But free within each youthful mind, + Bade Reason lead the way. + +Who taught us, 'stead of servile fear, + A warm esteem to prove, +And bade each act of duty spring, + From gratitude and love. + +Yes, I must hope that generous mind + With many cares opprest, +Shall in the winter of his days + With sweet repose be blest. + + + * * * * * + +_A friend, a year or two ago, gave me_ Joseph's Reconciliation with +his Brethren, _as a subject to write upon; but I was afraid of not +treating it in such a manner as a sacred story deserved, and gave up +the attempt, when I had written little more than the following lines, +to account for their not knowing him, although he well remembered them; +and am persuaded to let them appear here_. + + * * * * * + + + + +FRAGMENT. + + + * * * * * + +They, ere he left them, had attain'd their prime +And were less alter'd by the hand of Time; +But, the slim youth no longer met their view, +Fair, as the fancy e'er a seraph drew. +Who still, upborne by joy, in smiles was found, +With step elate that scarcely press'd the ground. +Before a grief had raz'd his youthful breast, +Or care had robb'd his brilliant eyes of rest. +When lofty visions swam before his sight, +And dreams of empire wrapt his soul at night. +Whose hair luxuriant flow'd in glossy pride, +And, from his snowy forehead, wav'd aside; +Which, vein'd with purest azure, rose serene, +And threw complacence o'er a rapturous mien. +The wandering light that sparkled in his eye, +The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye, +The speaking form, by each emotion sway'd, +The voice, that softest music had convey'd, +Were now matur'd. No more the child they saw, +But one, with majesty, inspiring awe; +Whose silken locks no more in ringlets flow, +But gold and purple bind his manly brow: +No more the envied robe his limbs invest, +In all the pomp of eastern monarchs drest. +The sun of Egypt had embrown'd his face, +And time had ripen'd every youthful grace. + +As when the morn, in vivid colours gay, +And tender beauty, flies to meet the day, +Her lively tints lose their primeval hue, +The white and saffron mingle with the blue, +A glowing blush o'er the whole ether reigns, +But not a cloud its genuine tint retains. + + * * * * * + + + + +FRAGMENT. + + +Where yonder mossy ruins lie, +And desolation strikes the eye, +A noble mansion, high and fair, +Once rear'd its turrets in the air. +There infant warriors drew their breath, +And learn'd to scorn the fear of death. +In halls where martial trophies hung, +They listen'd while the minstrels sung, +Of pain and glory, toil and care, +And all the horrid charms of war: +There caught the fond desire of fame, +And panted for a hero's name. +Alas! too oft in youthful bloom, +Renown has crown'd the early tomb, +Has pierc'd the widow's bosom deep, +And taught the mother's eyes to weep. +She, on whose tale the stripling hung, +While pride and sorrow rul'd her tongue. +His father's gallant acts to tell, +How bold he fought, how bravely fell. + +Methinks e'en now I hear her speak, +I see the tear upon her cheek; +The musing boy's abstracted brow, +And the high-arching eye below. +The stifled sigh and anxious heave, +The kindling heart which dares not grieve; +The finely-elevated head, +The hand upon the bosom spread, +Proclaim him wrought by potent charms, +And speak his very soul in arms. + +Incautious zeal! what hast thou done? +The tale has robb'd thee of thy son. +And while thy pious tears deplore, +The loss of him who lives no more, +Ambition wakes her restless fire, +The boy will emulate his sire, + + * * * * * + + + + +_Written April the 18th, 1796_ + + +The beauteous queen of social love, +Descending from the realms above, +Through the wide space of ether flew, +With care this little world to view, +Till, tir'd with wandering, at the last, +Through every different climate past, +She sought not out a splendid dome, +But made this humble cot her home. + +The sweetest lyre would strive in vain, +To sing the pleasures of her reign, +Whose powerful influence does impart, +New softness to the feeling heart, +Bids it each narrow thought resign, +And fills it with a warmth benign. + +From morning till the close of day, +Here all a grateful homage pay, +For here she plays her harmless wiles, +And scatters her endearing smiles; +Here no proud rivals intervene, +And all, though glowing, is serene. +Here, since she first her visit paid, +Still has the sweet enchantress staid, +And never met a single slight, +Or spread her snowy plumes for flight. + +Contented 'neath the humble roof; +No timid heart is kept aloof; +A kind and condescending guest, +She lightens each despairing breast; +Where pain her poignant venom spreads, +The balm of tenderness she sheds, +Which breathes a calm repose around, +And heals at last the burning wound. + +When the heart throbs with bitter woe, +Her winning mien disarms the foe, +And the kind glances of her eye, +Force the desponding power to fly. +She gives a zest to every joy, +Forbids tranquillity to cloy, +Softens misfortune, chases fear, +And balm distills in every tear. +'Tis she alone can make us know, +A truly blissful hour below, +Can smooth the furrow'd brow of life, +And hush the thundering voice of strife. + +O, may she still exert her power, +Still lead us to the rural bower, +Which vaunting Pride does ne'er disgrace, +Or critic Envy's spiteful face. +Here Raymond ever shall delight, +To sit and watch the closing night; +And open-hearted Gertrude here, +With her sweet infant shall appear. +Here oft her brother shall prepare, +A wreath for Mary's curling hair; +While soft-voic'd Anna, fond of play, +And all the train, alert and gay, +In healthful games shall frolic round, +And revel on the mossy ground. + +Here Edmund shall forget his care, +And often fill an elbow chair; +While Sophia, friendly and sincere, +Shall ever find a welcome here. + +Yet would my hovering fancy trace, +The features of each happy face; +And sympathy informs my mind, +That they the same emotions find; +That in each scene of harmless glee, +Memory recalls the absent three: +And all, though distance strives to part, +Will hold communion in the heart. + + + +FINIS. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELEGIES AND OTHER SMALL POEMS *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Elegies and Other Small Poems</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Matilda Betham</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 20, 2004 [eBook #11193]<br /> +[Most recently updated: June 24, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELEGIES AND OTHER SMALL POEMS ***</div> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h1> + ELEGIES AND OTHER SMALL POEMS + </h1> + <p class="center"> + <b>BY MATILDA BETHAM.</b> + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + + <p> + + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>To the Hon. LADY JERNINGHAM</i>. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>Madam</i>, + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>The many endearing instances of regard I have experienced + since I had the honor of being known to your Ladyship, while + they impress my mind with gratitude, flatter my hopes with a + favourable reception of the following miscellanies, which, + under your patronage, I venture to submit to the public</i>. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>Considered as the first essays of an early period of life, + and as the exercises of leisure, my wishes suggest, that they + may not, perhaps, be found wholly unworthy of attention; but + whatever be their fate with others, I shall feel myself much + gratified, if, in your Ladyship's judgment, they may be + allowed some merit</i>. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>Though there cannot be a greater pleasure than dwelling on + the excellencies of a distinguished and amiable character, I + know not that it would be permitted me to indulge my present + inclination with enumerating those virtues and endowments + which confessedly distinguish your Ladyship, but my wishes I + may offer, and that you may long, very long, continue to + bless your family, to adorn your rank, and console the + unhappy, is the sincere prayer of</i> + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>Your Ladyship's most obliged humble servant, MATILDA + BETHAM</i>. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + <i>Stonham, Nov. 20, 1797.</i> + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + TO THE READER. + </h2> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + If, in the following pages, there may be found any + unacknowledged imitations, I hope I shall not be censured as + an intentional plagiarist; for it has been my wish, however I + may be esteemed presumptuous, not to be unjust; and I + sometimes fear lest an imperfect recollection of another's + idea should have appeared to me as a dawning thought of my + own. Wherever I could recollect a similar passage, although + unnoticed at the time I wrote, it has been either altered or + acknowledged. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + I commit these trifles to the press with the anxiety + necessarily resulting from a desire that they may not be + deemed altogether worthless. Though the natural partiality of + the writer may be somewhat strengthened by the commendations + of friends and parents, I am well aware that no apology can + give currency to imperfection. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> + I have not vainly attempted to ascend to the steeps of + Parnassus. If, wandering at its foot, I have mistaken + perishable shrubs for never-dying flowers, the errors of a + youthful mind, first viewing the fascinating regions of + fancy, will not be rigidly condemned; for wherever there is + true taste, there will be genuine candour. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + CONTENTS. + </h2> + <table summary="Table of Contents" cellpadding="7"> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> + <hr /> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_1">To ——, with Arthur and + Albina</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_1a">Arthur and Albina</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_2">The Fraternal Duel</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_2a">Lines in a Letter to A.R.C.</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_3">The Lonely Walk</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_4">The Outlaw</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_5">Invitation</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_6">Whitsun-Monday</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_7">Philemon</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_8">On a Fan</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_9">To Simplicity</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_10">The Terrors of Guilt</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_11">Cen'lin, Prince of Mercia</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_12">Rhapsody</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_13">Human Pleasure or Pain</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_14">The Complaint of Fancy</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_14a">On the Eve of Departure from + O——</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_15">To M.I.</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_16">Translation from Metastasio</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_22">—— from Della Casa</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_24">Editha</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_25">To M.I.</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_26">Written in Zimmermann's + Solitude</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_27">To the Memory of Mr. Agostino + Isola</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_28">To the Nuns of Bodney</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_29">Fragment</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_30">Fragment</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#RULE4_31">Written April 18, 1796.</a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> + <hr /> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_1"><!-- RULE4 1 --></a> + To —— WITH ARTHUR and ALBINA. + </h2> + <p class="center"> + 1794. + </p> + + <p class="noindent"> + Ah! if your eye should e'er these lines survey,<br/> + Dismiss from thence its penetrating ray:<br/> + Let Criticism then her distance keep,<br/> + And dreaded Justice then be lull'd to sleep;<br/> + For, let whatever sentence be their due,<br/> + I feel I cannot censure bear from you. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr /> + <p class="center"> + <i>A British Maid awaits the arrival of her lover from the + battle, on a hill, where, at its commencement, she had + retired to make vows to heaven for his + success.—Evening</i>. + </p> + <hr /> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_1a"><!-- RULE4 1a --></a> + ARTHUR and ALBINA. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Ah me! the yellow western sky turns pale, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And leaves the cheerless sons of earth to mourn; + </p> + <p> + And yet I hear not in the silent vale, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A sound to tell me Arthur does return. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah, haste ye hours! quick plume the loit'ring wing! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Bring back my hero, crown'd with glorious spoils! + </p> + <p> + Let bards on lofty harps his triumphs sing, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And loud applause repay successful toils! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Reward the flame, ye great celestial pow'rs, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The noble flame that in his bosom glows! + </p> + <p> + Inspire him, Druids, from your holy bow'rs, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With strength to conquer iron-breasted foes!<a href="#note-1">1</a> + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With heighten'd vigour brace his nervous arm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And let his lance with ten-fold fury fly, + </p> + <p> + Make him terrific by some potent charm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And add new lightening to his piercing eye! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Then may my lover gain unrivall'd fame, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The Roman banners may less proudly flow, + </p> + <p> + Then he may humble their detested name, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And their high plumes wave o'er' a British brow! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Then may his chariot,<a href="#note-2">2</a> wheeling + o'er the plain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Hurl death and desolation all around, + </p> + <p> + While his intrepid front appals their train, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And make our proud invaders bite the ground! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But yet I hear no lively foot advance; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No sound of triumph greets my list'ning ear!' + </p> + <p> + And I may carve this eagle-darting lance + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + For one, whose voice I never more shall hear! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Perhaps my vows have never reach'd the skies, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor heav'n, propitious, smil'd upon my pray'r; + </p> + <p> + And ah! to morrow's crimson dawn may rise + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To plunge me in the horrors of despair! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Yet well he knows the dreadful spear to wield— + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Alas! their fearful limbs are fenc'd with care: + </p> + <p> + And, what can valour, when th'extended + shield<a href="#note-3">3</a> + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + May leave, so oft, his gen'rous bosom bare? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Say, reverend Druids, can you bless in vain? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Can you in vain extend your spotless hands? + </p> + <p> + Will not heav'n listen when its priests complain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And save its altars from unhallow'd bands? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh yes! I'll fear no more! The sacred + groves,<a href="#note-4">4</a> + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That rear their untouch'd branches to the skies; + </p> + <p> + Beneath whose shade its chosen servant roves, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Hidden from weak, unconsecrated eyes: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Beneath whose shade the choral bards rehearse, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Piercing, with uprais'd eyes, each mist that shrouds, + </p> + <p> + And, listening, catch the heav'n-dictated verse, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By airs etherial wailed from the clouds: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + It ne'er can be—but hark! I hear the sound + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of some one's step; yet not the youth I love; + </p> + <p> + He would have flown, and scarcely touch'd the ground, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Not ling'ring thus, with weary caution, move. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The heavy wanderer approaches nigh, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + But the drear darkness skreens him from my views + </p> + <p> + Ah, gracious heav'n! it was my Arthur's sigh, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which the unwilling breeze so faintly blew. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh speak! inform me what I have to fear! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Speak, and relieve my doubting, trembling heart! + </p> + <p> + To thy Albina, with a tongue sincere, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A portion of thy wretchedness impart!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Sweet maid," replied the wounded, dying youth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In accents mournful, tremulous and slow, + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I will ever answer thee with truth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + While yet the feeble tide of life shall flow. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + We made the haughty Roman chiefs retire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The tow'ring, sacrilegious eagle<a href="#note-5">5</a> + flew; + </p> + <p> + Our bosoms swell'd with more than mortal fire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When from the field indignant they withdrew. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But ill bespeaks my faint and languid tongue, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The glowing beauties of that joyful sight; + </p> + <p> + Ill can my breast, with keenest torture wrung, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Dwell on the charming terrors of the fight. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + To others then I leave the envied strain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which shall for ages rend the British air; + </p> + <p> + Nor will thy partial ear expect, in vain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To find the humble name of Arthur there. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + I go, while now the victory is warm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The just reward of valour to obtain; + </p> + <p> + Soon I return, clad in a nobler form,<a href="#note-6">6</a> + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Again to triumph, and again be slain. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah! then, my dear Albina, cease to grieve, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor at thy lover's glorious fate repine; + </p> + <p> + For, though my present favour'd form I leave, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + This constant heart shall still be only thine. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Alas! e'en now I feel the icy hand + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of hasty death, press down my swelling heart; + </p> + <p> + E'en now I hear a sweet aerial band, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Summon thy faithful Arthur to depart. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Let not thy tears an absent lover mourn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Remember that he bravely, nobly died; + </p> + <p> + Remember that he quickly will return, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And claim again his lov'd, his destin'd bride." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + As thus the warrior's fainting spirits fled, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And parting life streamed forth at every vein, + </p> + <p> + His quivering lip, in whispers, softly said, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + "Remember, Arthur dies to live again!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Oh stay, dear youth!" the hapless maiden cries, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + My best-lov'd Arthur, but one moment stay! + </p> + <p> + And close not yet those all-enlivening eyes, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + So lately lighted at the torch of day. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah! yet once more, that look of tender love, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of fond regret, my Arthur, let me view! + </p> + <p> + Let one more effort thy affection, prove, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And bid me once, once more, a long adieu. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Now, ere the moon withdraws her feeble light, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Ope yet again on me thy fading eye! + </p> + <p> + He hears not! memory has ta'en her flight, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And vanish'd with that last convulsive sigh. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Why did I variegated wreaths prepare, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To pay the conqueror every honor due? + </p> + <p> + Or, why, with fillets, bind my flowing hair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And tinge my arms of the bright azure hue?<a href="#note-7">7</a> + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! must this constant bosom beat no more? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + This skilful hand no more direct the spear? + </p> + <p> + Must lost Albina still her fate deplore, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And ever drop the unavailing tear? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Must I no more that lovely face review, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Expressing each emotion of the mind? + </p> + <p> + No more repeat a sweetly sad adieu? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No more gay chaplets on his forehead bind? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + His forehead, high and fair, with martial grace, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And bold, free curls of glossy chesnut crown'd; + </p> + <p> + The full, dark eye-brow which adorn'd his face, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + O'erwhelming foes with terror as he frown'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + His voice, though strong, harmoniously clear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No more shall fill Albina with delight; + </p> + <p> + No more shall sooth her still-attentive ear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And make her fancy every sorrow light. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Farewell to love, to happiness, and joy! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Yet will I cull the summer's choicest bloom; + </p> + <p> + Funereal chaplets shall my time employ, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And wither daily on my Arthur's tomb." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + As thus she mourn'd, with bitterest woe opprest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A ray of light illumin'd all the grove, + </p> + <p> + And a consoling voice the fair addrest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In the soft accents of parental love. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Though still she clasp'd her hero's valued corse, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + She slowly rais'd her languid, streaming eyes, + </p> + <p> + And own'd astonishment's resistless force, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Viewing the stranger with a wild surprize. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The form was clad in robes of purest white, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That swept with solemn dignity the ground; + </p> + <p> + Contrasting with the blackest gloom of night, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which reign'd in awful majesty around. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The silver beard did reverence demand,<a href="#note-8">8</a> + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And told her that a holy bard was there, + </p> + <p> + Whose shrivell'd fingers grasp'd a flaming brand, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which threw a lustre on the waving hair. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + His eye possess'd the brilliant fire of youth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + United with the wisdom of the sage; + </p> + <p> + And speaking, with the simple voice of truth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + He blended the solemnity of age. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Arise! thou loveliest of misfortune's train, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And cease these weak, desponding tears to shed; + </p> + <p> + The soft effusions of thy grief restrain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which serve but to disturb the peaceful dead. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The youth you mourn, far from these scenes of woe, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To worlds of never-ending joy is flown; + </p> + <p> + Where his blest bosom with delight shall glow, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And his fair temples wear a princely crown. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah then, presumptuous! question not the skies, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor more with vain laments his loss deplore; + </p> + <p> + Attend to this, and cease your fruitless sighs, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + You soon shall meet where you can part no + more."<a href="#note-9">9</a> + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Awe-struck, his sacred wisdom she confest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which pour'd sweet consolation on her mind; + </p> + <p> + She cross'd her blood-stain'd hands upon her breast, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And bow'd her humble, grateful head, resign'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + AUGUST 27, 1794. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="note-1"><!-- Note Anchor 1 --></a>1: Alluding to the + armour of the Romani. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-2"><!-- Note Anchor 2 --></a>2: The Britons + fought in low chariots, which they could leave and re-ascend + at pleasure. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-3"><!-- Note Anchor 3 --></a>3: The shield + being their only armour, when held out to protect a wounded + or dying friend, left them defenceless. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-4"><!-- Note Anchor 4 --></a>4: The groves were + consecrated to the celebration of religious mysteries. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-5"><!-- Note Anchor 5 --></a>5: The Roman + standard. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-6"><!-- Note Anchor 6 --></a>6: The Druids are + said to have preached the doctrine of transmigration, in + order to inspire their warriors with the greater contempt of + death. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-7"><!-- Note Anchor 7 --></a>7: The practice of + staining themselves with blue was common among the Britons. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-8"><!-- Note Anchor 8 --></a>8: The people, + excepting the priests, shaved off all the hair from their + faces, but what grew on the upper lip. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-9"><!-- Note Anchor 9 --></a>9: This equivocal + manner of speech may be supposed natural enough in one of + this order of priests, who, it is said, held a more refined + idea of a future state than they preached to the people. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr /> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Alas! no more that joyous morn appears + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + That led the tranquil hours of spotless fame; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + For I have steep'd a father's couch in tears, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p style="text-align: right;"> + SHENSTONE. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr /> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_2"><!-- RULE4 2 --></a> + THE FRATERNAL DUEL. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + 'Oh! hide me from the sun! I loath the sight! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I cannot bear his bright, obtrusive ray: + </p> + <p> + Nought is so dreadful to my gloom as light! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nothing so dismal as the blaze of day! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + No more may I its sparkling glories view! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No more its piercing lustre meet my eye! + </p> + <p> + On night's black wings my only comfort flew; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + At breath of morn I sicken and I die. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Where can I fly? In what sequester'd clime + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Does darkness ever hold her ebon reign? + </p> + <p> + Where woeful dirges measure out the time, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And endless echoes breathe the sullen strain. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Where dreary mountains rear their low'ring heads, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To pierce the heavy and umbrageous clouds; + </p> + <p> + And where the cavern dewy moisture sheds, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And night's thick veil the guilty mourner shrouds. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + There, lost in horrors, I might vent my sighs; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To open misery myself resign; + </p> + <p> + Might snatch each torturing vision ere it flies, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And feast on prospects desolate as mine. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! let me thither quickly take my flight, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And chuse a favourite and a final seat, + </p> + <p> + In scenes which would each gentler mind affright, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + But for my guilt affords a fit retreat. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + There, where no ray, no gleam of light could come, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + There, and there only, could I find relief; + </p> + <p> + There might I ruminate on Edward's doom, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lose myself in luxury of grief. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And, as it is, though joys around me shine, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though pleasure here erects her dazzling brow, + </p> + <p> + Wrapt in despondence, will I droop and pine, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And tears of anguish shall for ever flow. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh Edward! could'st thou see this alter'd frame, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which youthful graces lately did adorn! + </p> + <p> + Could'st thou behold, and think me still the same, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thy once gay friend, thus hapless and forlorn? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The cheek, so late by ruddy health embrown'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Now pale and faded with incessant tears; + </p> + <p> + The eye, which once elate, disdain'd the ground, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Now sunk and languid in its orb appears. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! never, never will I cease to grieve! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And sure repentance pardon may obtain! + </p> + <p> + Can woe unfeign'd incite heav'n to relieve + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A wretch opprest with agonizing pain? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah no! my hands are stain'd with brother's blood! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A father's curses load my sinking head! + </p> + <p> + I wish to die, but dare not pass the flood, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + For there, as well as here, my hopes are fled. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Sleep, which was meant to chase away the thought, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To lull the sound of dissonant despair, + </p> + <p> + Appears to me with added terrors fraught, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And my torn heart can find no refuge there. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + If, for a moment, I its fetters wear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And its soft pressure these pale eyes controul, + </p> + <p> + I injur'd Emma's just reproaches hear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or Edward's form appals my shrinking soul. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When in those transitory sleeps I lie, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I oft his beauteous, bleeding form review; + </p> + <p> + A mild, benignant lustre lights his eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + As come to bid a friend a last adieu. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + I start, I shudder at his tuneful voice, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When it, in soothing whispers, meets my ear; + </p> + <p> + That sound, which oft has made my heart rejoice, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I now all-trembling and affrighted hear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Was it thy fault, dear, much-lamented youth + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + If lovely Emma did thy suit prefer? + </p> + <p> + She saw thee form'd of tenderness and truth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And kings might glory to be lov'd by her. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Thy native sweetness won her artless heart; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And well our different characters she knew; + </p> + <p> + Whilst thy mild looks did happiness impart, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + She saw the murderer in each glance I threw. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Yet for this, meanly, did I thee upbraid, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And basely urg'd an elder brother's right; + </p> + <p> + Then, calling impious passion to my aid, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Forc'd thee, unwilling, to the fatal fight. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! ne'er shall I forget the dreadful hour, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I sheath'd my weapon in thy noble breast; + </p> + <p> + Thy dying hand clasp'd mine, with feeble pow'r, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And to thy mangled bosom fondly prest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Whilst o'er thee, I, in speechless anguish hung, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thou saw'st the wild distraction of my eye; + </p> + <p> + And, though the chills of death restrain'd thy tongue + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thy bosom heav'd a sympathetic sigh. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With cruel tenderness my friends contriv'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To bear me from the drear, polluted shore; + </p> + <p> + Of every joy, of peace itself depriv'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which this despairing breast shall know no more. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Since this what frenzy has inspir'd my mind! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + My tortur'd mem'ry cannot it retrace; + </p> + <p> + No relique now of former days I find, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + But horrors, which e'en madness can't efface. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + My dearest brother, and my tenderest friend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + O come, and save me from this dark abyss! + </p> + <p> + Draw hence the darts which my rack'd bosom rend! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And bear me with you to the realms of bliss! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah! whence that pang which smote my shuddering heart? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Where now, for refuge, can lost Anselm fly? + </p> + <p> + 'Tis Death! I know him by his crimson dart! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And, am I fit? Oh heav'ns! I cannot die! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + My spirit is not form'd for rapid flight; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + It cannot cut the vast expanse of air, + </p> + <p> + No, never can it reach the realms of light, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + For sin, a weight immoveable, lies there!' + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Thus wretched Anselm rav'd: unhappy youth! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though passion hurried thee so far astray, + </p> + <p> + Thy infant soul ador'd the God of Truth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And virtue usher'd in thy vernal day. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! had he learn'd his passions to restrain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And let cool reason in his breast preside, + </p> + <p> + His op'ning wisdom had not bloom'd in vain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor had he, ere the prime of manhood, died. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Yet, if remorse could expiate his guilt, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + If the worst sufferings could the crime erase, + </p> + <p> + If tears could wash away the blood he spilt, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Then Anselm's penitence obtain'd him grace. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + AUGUST 20, 1794. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3><a name="RULE4_2a"><!-- RULE4 2 --></a> + IN A + </h3> + <h2> + LETTER to A.R.C. + </h2> + <h3> + ON HER WISHING TO BE CALLED<br/> + ANNA. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Forgive me, if I wound your ear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By calling of you Nancy, + </p> + <p> + Which is the name of my sweet friend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The other's but her fancy. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah, dearest girl! how could your mind + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The strange distinction frame? + </p> + <p> + The whimsical, unjust caprice, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which robs you of your name. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + <i>Nancy</i> agrees with what we see, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A being wild and airy; + </p> + <p> + Gay as a nymph of Flora's train, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Fantastic as a fairy. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But <i>Anna's</i> of a different kind, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A melancholy maid; + </p> + <p> + Boasting a sentimental soul, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In solemn pomp array'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh ne'er will I forsake the sound, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + So artless and so free! + </p> + <p> + Be what you will with all mankind. + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + But <i>Nancy</i> still with me. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_3"><!-- RULE4 3 --></a> + THE LONELY WALK, + </h2> + <h3> + To W.S.B. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + When the grey evening spreads a calm around, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Tell me, has thy bewilder'd fancy sought, + </p> + <p> + Retir'd in some sequestered spot of ground, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Rest, from the labour of eternal thought? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When, wrapt in self, the soul enjoys repose, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The wearied brain resigns its fervent heat, + </p> + <p> + In dream-like musing every care we lose, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And wind our way with slowly-moving feet. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oft, to indulge the thought-exploded sigh, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When, slowly wandering at the close of day, + </p> + <p> + Light emanations from th'abstracted eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With transient beauty in the sun-beams play, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Thy sister seeks the solitary shade. + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Her mind inhaling the aerial gloom, + </p> + <p> + Sees, not-observing, the fair landscape fade, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And sullen mist usurping day-light's room. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Not her's the feelings which regret inspires, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When sorrows keen have made the spirits low; + </p> + <p> + Adversity has damp'd the youthful fires, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And all the tears that fall are tears of woe. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah no! possessing every social bliss, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I cannot, will not at my fate repine; + </p> + <p> + Or ask for happiness excelling this, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When such a world of treasures now are mine! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And, when the melancholy grove I seek, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Scarce can my palpitating heart controul, + </p> + <p> + While silent tears are trembling on my cheek, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The flood of pleasure swelling in my soul. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But soon my too-elated thoughts are calm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The tumults of the mental chaos cease; + </p> + <p> + A soft oblivion the rais'd senses charm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lull to a reflecting, soothing peace. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Hail, sweet enhancements of the languid mind! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Whose calm reposes restless worldlings scorn; + </p> + <p> + But from whose aid recruited strength we find, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And waken, lively as the bird of morn. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And thou, lov'd boy, in whose congenial breast, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I doubt not but those sentiments reside; + </p> + <p> + For we, our thoughts, our actions have confest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + As much in hearts as persons are allied; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Hail thou, my brother! may thy steps be led + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By heav'nly wisdom through this world of care, + </p> + <p> + And gain the realms for which our Saviour, bled! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor pain, nor lassitude await us there. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + OCTOBER 13, 1794. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr /> + <p class="center"> + <i>The first Percy, who came over with William the Conqueror, + married a Saxon lady, called Emma de Port, said to have been + the daughter of the last Saxon Earl of Northumberland, whose + possessions had been given to him (Lord William de Percy) for + his services</i>. + </p> + <p class="center"> + <i>I have taken the liberty of supposing this lady to have + had a brother.</i> + </p> + <hr /> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_4"><!-- RULE4 4 --></a> + THE OUTLAW. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Before the fair Aurora spread + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Her azure mantle o'er the skies, + </p> + <p> + While sleep its pleasing influence shed, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + On grateful mortals weary eyes, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Emerg'd from a surrounding wood, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + On a bleak mountain's sullen brow, + </p> + <p> + A solitary outlaw stood, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And view'd, through mist, the world below. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With deep regret his bosom fraught, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + His arms were wreath'd in sorrow's knot<a href="#note-10">10</a>; + </p> + <p> + Nor seem'd he yet, by patience taught, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To bear submissively his lot. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Hidden was each enlivening grace; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Deprest by his untimely doom; + </p> + <p> + A hectic flush o'erspread his face, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Instead of nature's florid bloom. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Untutor'd in the school of grief, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + His pining spirit spoke in sighs; + </p> + <p> + Though almost hopeless of relief, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + He look'd around with eager eyes; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And fondly bent an anxious ear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To the slow murmuring of the breeze, + </p> + <p> + Essaying oft, in vain, to hear + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A friendly step beneath the trees. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Delusive wish!" at last he cried, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + "Why wilt thou fill my aching breast? + </p> + <p> + And thus my miseries deride, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By telling how I might be blest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No kind consolers hither bend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By sympathy to ease my care; + </p> + <p> + Here comes no ever-faithful friend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Who yet might shield me from despair. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "The abbey's well-known tow'r I seek, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + It fades from my impassion'd eye; + </p> + <p> + The fancied outlines softly break, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And melt into the distant sky. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No pitying object now remains, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That I may know those scenes are near, + </p> + <p> + Where generous love and friendship reigns, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And Alwin's name may claim a tear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And you, my lov'd paternal groves, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Where I no more must shew my head; + </p> + <p> + In your fair walks a stranger roves, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And treacherous Normans daily tread! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "E'en now their presence may prophane + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The halls where Herbert did reside! + </p> + <p> + E'en now may joy and gladness reign, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And Adelaide be Percy's bride. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Yet no! her soul, the seat of truth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Would ne'er a second love receive! + </p> + <p> + The sacred vows of artless youth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Her Alwin ever shall believe! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "They still shall comfort my sad heart, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And sooth the anguish of my mind; + </p> + <p> + Shall still a cheering hope impart, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And make me somewhat more resign'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ah! yet I hear her trembling hand, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Withdraw the bolt to set me free! + </p> + <p> + Yet hear the hasty, kind command, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + My Alwin fly, and live for me! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No other can obtain my love! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I would for thee the world resign! + </p> + <p> + Then let thy prompt obedience prove + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That thou art truly, wholly mine." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And ever to her promise true, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No pleasure shall her soul elate, + </p> + <p> + For, yet her constant thoughts pursue + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A wretched Outlaw's hapless fate! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "In vain proud Ranulph<a href="#note-11">11</a> shall + upbraid, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + My Adelaide is still the same! + </p> + <p> + And, for thy sake, dear, lovely maid, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I will not curse the Norman name! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Not, though my father's large domains, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Are plunder'd by the murderous bands; + </p> + <p> + And my Northumbria's fertile plains, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Lie wasted by their cruel hands; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Though, as a son, I mourn the fate + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of those, to whom my life I owe; + </p> + <p> + And hate the hearts that thus create + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The dimness of severest woe; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Though I behold no friendly steel, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To give my Emma vengeance, drawn; + </p> + <p> + And though a brother's pangs I feel, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To know her destitute, forlorn; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Though, banish'd from the sight of day, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In dreary solitude I pine; + </p> + <p> + And, forc'd to feel a tyrant's sway, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Each dear paternal right resign; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Yet will I seal my lips; nor dare + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To extricate my haughty foes: + </p> + <p> + The hateful, guilty root I spare, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which can produce so fair a rose. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "But thou, my heart, wilt thou be calm? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Oh! tell me, can reflection cease; + </p> + <p> + And this fond bosom, now so warm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Be ever tranquilliz'd to peace! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ah, no! a father's scornful eye + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Is ever present to my view; + </p> + <p> + And tells me, Herbert dar'd to die, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though Normans could his son subdue. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Each feeble plea his soul disdains, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + They cannot for the fault atone; + </p> + <p> + Though, when I left Northumbria's plains, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I had not fifteen summers known. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And hear me, Herbert, when I swear + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + It was not fear that urg'd my flight; + </p> + <p> + A worthless life was not my care, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I thought but of a parent's right. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Then pardon that my youth comply'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To ease a mother's anxious fears + </p> + <p> + That, when I rather would have died, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I yielded to a sister's tears. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Alas! a peasant's humble shed, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Soon saw our sainted parents' death, + </p> + <p> + Who, while our hearts in anguish bled, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With pious hopes resign'd her breath. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "When mists foretel the ev'ning near, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And clouds of chilling dew arise, + </p> + <p> + We sought the grave of her so dear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And offer'd there our tears and sighs. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "'Till mild reflection lent her aid, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And bade our filial sorrows cease; + </p> + <p> + The fever of our souls allay'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + We sunk into a mournful peace. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "My pensive bosom strove to keep + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A dying mother's last request; + </p> + <p> + I let the thoughts of vengeance sleep, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And studied to make Emma blest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No longer shunning of the dawn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or seeking the sequester'd shade, + </p> + <p> + I call'd my sister to the lawn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And trod with her the flow'ry glade. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Submitting to our wayward fate, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I talk'd not of the treasures flown; + </p> + <p> + But still seem'd easy and sedate, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + While pressing verdure not my own. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Then all I wish'd, and all I fear'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Was by fraternal love inspir'd; + </p> + <p> + And one, by every tie endear'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The only friend my soul desir'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Yet soon that pleasing calmness fled, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A Norman beauty won my heart, + </p> + <p> + Imperious love my footsteps led, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And bade all secrecy depart. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "I own'd the splendour of my race, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Altho' a peasant's form I bore; + </p> + <p> + I fancied silence was disgrace, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And hid my sentiments no more. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Her father's tongue my fate decreed, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And doom'd great Herbert's son to shame; + </p> + <p> + For, tho' by love from prison freed, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I bear an outlaw's hateful name. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "My sister no fond friend can shield, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No relative allay her grief; + </p> + <p> + For tyranny all hearts hath steel'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And nought can give her soul relief. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "With ev'ry quality to charm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A guardian will not heaven allow, + </p> + <p> + To screen thy artless youth from harm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And, fair deserted! help thee now! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No aid, no comfort, can be nigh! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And shall thy brother here remain? + </p> + <p> + Has he not fortitude to fly, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And burst the heavy, servile chain? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Why should I linger here alone, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Unseen by every human eye? + </p> + <p> + To live unfriended and unknown, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And in this dreary desart die. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "For now the sun-beams gild the sky, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And give the misty morning grace, + </p> + <p> + Far from the light I'm doom'd to fly, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Abandon'd by the human race. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "But no! I'll bear suspense no more! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Too dear a price to purchase breath; + </p> + <p> + I'll seek the scenes I yet deplore, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And meet a welcome, wish'd-for, death." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Tortur'd to frenzy, Alwin flew, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And as he left his sad retreat, + </p> + <p> + He, turning, look'd a last adieu, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And shook the dew-drops from his feet. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + His hurried steps nor press'd the ground, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor pointed out the path he came; + </p> + <p> + And, though so long the way he found, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Despair buoy'd up his fainting frame. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The sun shot forth a feeble ray, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + But hid his glorious orb from sight, + </p> + <p> + And the pale evening's modest grey, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Had soften'd the too-glaring light, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When Alwin reach'd the humble cot, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That once he did with Emma share, + </p> + <p> + And, weeping, hail'd the well-known spot, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In vain, for Emma was not there. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Repuls'd, he turn'd his languid eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Where Ranulph's lofty turrets rose; + </p> + <p> + And, heaving disappointment's sigh, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + He sought the mansion of his foes. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + His faltering step, when there he came, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A proud, disdainful air possest; + </p> + <p> + Memory recall'd his former shame, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And indignation fill'd his breast. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + He enter'd, in his wild attire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With hasty pace and haggard brow, + </p> + <p> + Scorn fill'd his azure eye with fire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And gave his cheeks a deeper glow. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + A graceful knight who met his view, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Sat pleading by a lady's side; + </p> + <p> + And Alwin's jealous bosom knew + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Lord Percy, and his fated bride. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Mistaken youth! thy eyes have seen, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The persons pictur'd in thy mind; + </p> + <p> + But who is that, with pensive mien, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And forehead on her hand reclin'd? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + O'er whom Lord Ranulph fondly bends, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With sorrow seated on his brow; + </p> + <p> + While the regretting tear descends + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + O'er his pale cheek, in silent woe. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ah! is it thus?" sad Alwin said, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The fancied bride the accents knew, + </p> + <p> + Lord Percy rais'd his drooping head, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lovely Emma met his view. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Then rapture and surprize prevail'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Each bosom felt confus'd delight; + </p> + <p> + While his return the mourner hail'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And thus his sorrows did requite. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "O, dearest Alwin, now no more + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + My father disapproves our flame; + </p> + <p> + No longer we thy loss deplore, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or tremble to pronounce thy name. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "A noble friend has gain'd our cause, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And vanquish'd all his former hate; + </p> + <p> + Who, ere he own'd a lover's laws, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With generous tears had wept thy fate." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Yes, injur'd youth," Lord Ranulph cried, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + "Thou art this day my chosen heir; + </p> + <p> + In Adelaide behold thy bride, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thy sister's future husband, there. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Lord Percy, to a candid mind, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Unites a fervour like thy own; + </p> + <p> + And Emma, not to merit blind, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Refers his cause to thee alone. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "If thou wilt grant his fond desire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + 'Twill gain a brave, a noble friend; + </p> + <p> + And the possessions of thy sire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To his posterity descend." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And did my Emma stay to hear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Her brother sanctify her choice? + </p> + <p> + Ah Percy! now you need not fear + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + From Alwin, a dissenting voice. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Blest in my love, in Emma blest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + My heart each cherish'd wish obtains; + </p> + <p> + Northumbrians, now no more opprest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Shall own a son of Herbert reigns. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "May ye rebuild the peasant's cot, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Exalt the woe-depressed head, + </p> + <p> + And o'er each desolated spot, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The fostering calm of quiet spread! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "May sterne reserve and caution cease! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With lenient hand dispense your sway; + </p> + <p> + Give them the healing balm of peace, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Their wounded spirits will obey. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ah! cheer their gloom! dispel their care! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The smile will soon replace the tear; + </p> + <p> + And, wedded to a Saxon fair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The foreign lord no more appear." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + 1794. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="note-10"><!-- Note Anchor 10 --></a>10: "Wreathing + his arms in this sad knot."—SHAKESPERE'S TEMPEST. + </p> + <p> + <a name="note-11"><!-- Note Anchor 11 --></a>11: Lord of + Cumberland. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_5"><!-- RULE4 5 --></a> + INVITATION, + </h2> + <h3> + To J.B.C. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Now spring appears, with beauty crown'd,<br/> + And all is light and life around,<br/> + Why comes not Jane? When friendship calls,<br/> + Why leaves she not Augusta's walls?<br/> + Where cooling zephyrs faintly blow,<br/> + Nor spread the cheering, healthful glow.<br/> + That glides through each awaken'd vein,<br/> + As skimming o'er the spacious plain,<br/> + We look around with joyous eye,<br/> + And view no boundaries but the sky. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Already April's reign is o'er,<br/> + Her evening tints delight no more;<br/> + No more the violet scents the gale,<br/> + No more the mist o'erspreads the vale;<br/> + The lovely queen of smiles and tears,<br/> + Who gave thee birth, no more appears;<br/> + But blushing May, with brow serene,<br/> + And vestments of a livelier green,<br/> + Commands the winged choir to sing,<br/> + And with wild notes the meadows ring. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + O come! ere all the train is gone,<br/> + No more to hail thy twenty-one;<br/> + That age which higher honor shares,<br/> + And well becomes the wreath it wears.<br/> + From lassitude and cities flee,<br/> + And breathe the air of heav'n, with me. + </p> + <p class="center"> + MAY 5, 1795. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3><a name="RULE4_6"><!-- RULE4 6 --></a> + WRITTEN ON + </h3> + <h2> + WHITSUN-MONDAY, + </h2> + <p class="center"> + 1795. + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + At an open window sitting, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + On this day of mirth and glee, + </p> + <p> + 'Cross a flow'ry vista flitting, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Many passing forms I see. + </p> + <p> + Ah! lovely prospect, stay awhile! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And longer glad my doating eye, + </p> + <p> + With poverty's delighted smile, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lighten'd step, as passing by; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With labour's spruce and ruddy train, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Deck'd out in all their best array, + </p> + <p> + Who, months of toil and care disdain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Paid by the pleasures of a day. + </p> + <p> + The village girl still let me view, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Hast'ning to the neighb'ring fair; + </p> + <p> + Her cap adorn'd with pink or blue, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And nicely smooth her glossy hair. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With sparkling eye and smiling face, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Ting'd o'er with beauty's warmest glow; + </p> + <p> + With timid air, and humble grace, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With clear and undepressed brow. + </p> + <p> + Go! lovely girl, and share the day, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To thy industrious merit due; + </p> + <p> + There join the dance, or choral lay; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thou blooming, village rose, adieu! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And thou, O youth, so blythe and free, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Bounding swiftly o'er the plain, + </p> + <p> + Go, taste the joys of liberty, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And cheer thy spirit, happy swain! + </p> + <p> + How different to the lonely hour, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When slowly following the plough, + </p> + <p> + Self-buoyant joy forgets the pow'r, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which warms thy gladden'd bosom now. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + If some rural prize desiring, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or ambitious of applause, + </p> + <p> + Loud huzzas thy wishes firing, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thy steady hand the furrow draws; + </p> + <p> + Ne'er a victor fam'd in story, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Greater praise and reverence drew, + </p> + <p> + Than thou, attir'd in humble glory, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + So, guiltless conqueror, adieu! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh, here a charming group appears! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A cottage family, so gay, + </p> + <p> + Whose youthful hopes, uncheck'd by fears, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In smiles of thoughtless rapture play. + </p> + <p> + Here, borne in fond, parental arms, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The infant's roving eye we view; + </p> + <p> + Boasting a thousand, thousand charms, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Endearing innocents, adieu! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + They go! no more with beating heart, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lively, dancing step to tread; + </p> + <p> + Unwillingly will they depart, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To seek again their homely shed. + </p> + <p> + Ah! Eve, I love thy veil of grey, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which will conceal them from my view, + </p> + <p> + For, bending home their weary way, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + How sad would be our last adieu! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr /> + <p class="center"> + <i>The following was suggested by reading a whimsical + description, given by Scarron, of the deformity of his + person, contrasted with its former elegance, in the + Curiosities of Literature, vol. 2, page 247</i>. + </p> + <hr /> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_7"><!-- RULE4 7 --></a> + PHILEMON. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Ye blooming youth, possest of every grace, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which can delight the eye, or please the ear, + </p> + <p> + Who boast a polish'd mind and faultless face, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Awhile the councils of Philemon hear! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Let not pride lift the thoughtless head too high, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Temerity arch o'er the scornful brow, + </p> + <p> + Contemptuous glances arm the sparkling eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or the high heart with self-complacence glow! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Alas! full soon the eve of life arrives, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though pale Disease's train approach not nigh; + </p> + <p> + Short is the summer of the happiest lives, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + If no rude storm disturbs the smiling sky. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + This wretched body, bending to the earth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Once, on the wings of health, alert and gay, + </p> + <p> + Shone forth the foremost in the train of mirth, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And cloudless skies announc'd a beauteous day. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + My parents oft, with fond complacence view'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The elegance of my external form; + </p> + <p> + And thought my mind with excellence endued, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Bright as my genius, as my fancy warm. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + There was a time, poor as I now appear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I admiration met in every look; + </p> + <p> + And, harsh as now my words may grate your ear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Each tongue was silent when Philemon spoke. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Once could this voice make every bosom thrill, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + As it pour'd forth the light or plaintive lay; + </p> + <p> + And once these fingers, with superior skill, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Upon the lute could eloquently play. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + By partial friendship sooth'd, by flattery fann'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I learnt with conscious grace the dance to lead, + </p> + <p> + To guide the Phaeton with careless hand, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And rule, with flowing rein, the prancing steed. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Sick with the glory of a trifler's fame, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By folly nurtur'd, I was proud and vain; + </p> + <p> + Till Chastisement in kindest mercy came, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though then her just decrees I dar'd arraign. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The form that sought so late the public view, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That glow'd with transport, as the world admir'd, + </p> + <p> + Fill'd with false shame, from every eye withdrew, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And to the shades of solitude retir'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Consum'd by fevers, spiritless, forlorn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Blasted by apoplexy's dreadful rage, + </p> + <p> + My bleeding heart by keen remembrance torn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I past my prime in premature old age. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + I heard my parent's ill-suppressed sighs, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And wish'd myself upon the peaceful bier; + </p> + <p> + I saw the anguish of their sleepless eyes, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The smile dissembled, and the secret tear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oft, with a kind of gratifying woe, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I recollected every former charm, + </p> + <p> + And, with the spleen of a malicious foe, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Delighted still to keep my sorrows warm. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Where is the lustre of the gladsome eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The airy smile, the animated mien, + </p> + <p> + The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + So lately envied, now no longer seen. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "I too have gloried in my waving hair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + No ringlets now remain to raise my pride; + </p> + <p> + Nor can I now lay the white forehead bare, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And push the too luxuriant locks aside." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Thus, like a child, I sigh'd for pleasures past, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lost my hours in a delusive dream; + </p> + <p> + But Reason op'd my blinded eyes at last, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And clear'd each mist by her refulgent beam. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + I saw futurity before me spread, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A scourge or sceptre offer'd to my view, + </p> + <p> + Alarm'd, from Folly's erring mazes fled, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And to my God with humble rev'rence drew. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + I bow'd, submissive, at the holy shrine, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + His mercy with warm gratitude confest, + </p> + <p> + Which had reveal'd the spark of life divine, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That slumber'd in my earth-enamoured breast. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Had I, as friendship and self-love desir'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Still suck'd delirium at the fane of praise, + </p> + <p> + I might, my conscience lull'd and passions fir'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Have lost my soul in the bewitching blaze. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Dear rising train, let not my words offend! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Nor the pure dictates of my love despise; + </p> + <p> + To one, late like yourselves, attention lend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And, taught by his experience, be wise! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah! banish from your eye the fiend Disdain; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Let fair simplicity supply its place; + </p> + <p> + Nor longer let conceit the bosom stain; + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The child of weakness, follow'd by disgrace. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Should time from you each glowing beauty wrest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + You will not then those self-reproaches feel, + </p> + <p> + Which every eye awaken'd in my breast, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And twenty winters scarce suffic'd to heel. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Nor will your friends observe each faded charm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Since still your countenance its smile retains, + </p> + <p> + And the same lov'd companion, kind and warm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With unassuming manners, yet remains. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + SEPT. 8, 1795. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_8"><!-- RULE4 8 --></a> + ON A FAN. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Now I've painted these flowers, say what can I do,<br/> + To render them worthy acceptance from you?<br/> + I know of no sybil, whose wonderful art<br/> + Could to them superior virtues impart,<br/> + Who, of magical influence wonders could tell,<br/> + And, who over each blossom could mutter a spell. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + You only the humbler enchantments can prove,<br/> + That arise from esteem, from respect, and from + love;<br/> + With such I assail you, and pow'rful the charm,<br/> + When applied to a heart sympathetic and warm;<br/> + To a heart such as that, which, if right I divine,<br/> + O C—ll—n—n! dwells in that bosom of + thine. + </p> + <p class="center"> + NOV. 10, 1795. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_9"><!-- RULE4 9 --></a> + TO SIMPLICITY. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Fair village nymph, ah! may I meet + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Thy pleasing form where'er I stray! + </p> + <p> + With open air and converse sweet, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Still cheer my undiscover'd way! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With eyes, that shew the placid mind, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And with no feign'd emotions roll; + </p> + <p> + With mien, that sprightly or resign'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Bespeaks the temper of the soul. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + With smiles, where not the lips alone + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Receive a brighter, vermil hue, + </p> + <p> + The cheek does warmer roses own, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And the eyes beam, a deeper blue! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Though Fashion's minions scorn thy pow'r, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And slight thee, 'cause in russet drest, + </p> + <p> + Yet Joy frequents thy peaceful bow'r, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And sorrow flies to thee for rest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The echoing laugh, the rapturous tear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The smile of friendship, gay and free, + </p> + <p> + Delight but when they are sincere, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And given, lovely nymph, by thee. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When my Rosina reads a tale, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though sweet the tuneful accents flow, + </p> + <p> + No studied pathos does prevail + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To bid the hearer's bosom glow; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Her voice to sympathy resign'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Each different feeling can impart. + </p> + <p> + And, tell me not, we e'er can find + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A modulator, like the heart! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And Mary's locks of glossy brown, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That fall in waves, with graceful swell, + </p> + <p> + In ever-varying ringlets thrown, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The fairest curls of art excel. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Still rob'd in innocence and ease, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Daughter of Truth, shall thou prevail, + </p> + <p> + When Affectation cannot please, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And all the spells of Fashion fail. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + NOV. 17, 1795. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_10"><!-- RULE4 10 --></a> + THE TERRORS OF GUILT. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Yon coward, with the streaming hair,<br/> + And visage, madden'd to despair,<br/> + With step convuls'd, unsettled eye,<br/> + And bosom lab'ring with a sigh,<br/> + Is <i>Guilt!</i>—Behold, he hears the name,<br/> + And starts with horror, fear, and shame! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + See! slow Suspicion by his side, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With winking, microscopic eye! + </p> + <p> + And Mystery, his muffled guide, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With fearful speech, and head awry. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + See! scowling Malice there attend,<br/> + Bold Falsehood, an apparent friend;<br/> + Avarice, repining o'er his pelf,<br/> + Mean Cunning, lover of himself;<br/> + Hatred, the son of conscious Fear,<br/> + Impatient Envy, with a fiend-like sneer,<br/> + And shades of blasted Hopes, which still are hovering + near! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + All other woes will find relief,<br/> + And time alleviate every grief;<br/> + Memory, though slowly, will decay,<br/> + And Sorrow's empire pass away.<br/> + Awhile Misfortune may controul,<br/> + And Pain oppress the virtuous soul,<br/> + Yet Innocence can still beguile<br/> + The patient sufferer of a smile,<br/> + The beams of Hope may still dispense<br/> + A grateful feeling to the sense;<br/> + Friendship may cast her arms around,<br/> + And with fond tears embalm the wound,<br/> + Or Piety's soft incense rise,<br/> + And waft reflection to the skies;<br/> + But those fell pangs which he endures,<br/> + Nor Time forgets, nor Kindness cures;<br/> + Like Ocean's waves, they still return,<br/> + Like Etna's fires, forever burn. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Round him no genial zephyrs fly,<br/> + No fair horizon glads his eye,<br/> + No joys to him does Nature yield,<br/> + The solemn grove, or laughing field;<br/> + Though both with loud rejoicings ring,<br/> + No pleasure does the echo bring,<br/> + Not bubbling waters as they roll,<br/> + Can tranquillize his bursting soul,<br/> + For Conscience still, with tingling smart,<br/> + Asserts his empire o'er his heart,<br/> + And even when his eye-lids close,<br/> + With clamourous scream affrights repose. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oppress'd with light, he seeks to shun<br/> + The splendid glories of the sun;<br/> + The busy crowds that hover near,<br/> + Torment his eye, distract his ear;<br/> + He hastens to the secret shades,<br/> + Where not a ray the gloom pervades;<br/> + Where Contemplation may retreat,<br/> + And Silence take his mossy seat;<br/> + Yet even there no peace he knows,<br/> + His fev'rish blood, no calmer flows;<br/> + Some hid assassins 'vengeful knife,<br/> + Is rais'd to end his wretched life.<br/> + He shudders, starts, and stares around,<br/> + With breathless fright, to catch the fancied sound;<br/> + Seeks for the dagger in his breast,<br/> + And gripes it 'neath his ruffled vest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Lo! now he plunges in the flood,<br/> + To cleanse his garments, stain'd with blood,<br/> + His sanguine arm, in terror, laves;<br/> + But ah! its hue defies the waves.<br/> + Deprest, bewildered, thence he flies,<br/> + And, to avoid Detection, tries,<br/> + Who, frowning, still before him stands,<br/> + The sword of Justice in her hands;<br/> + Abhorrent Scorn, unpitying Shame,<br/> + And Punishments without a name,<br/> + Still on her sounding steps attend,<br/> + And every added horror lend.<br/> + He turns away, with dread and fear,<br/> + But the fell spectres still are near.<br/> + Though Falsehood's mazes see him wind!<br/> + Yet Infamy is close behind,<br/> + Lifting her horn, with horrors fraught,<br/> + Whose hideous yell is frenzy to the thought. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Now, maniac-like, he comes again,<br/> + And mixes with the jocund train;<br/> + But still those eyes that wildly roll,<br/> + Bespeak the tempest in his soul.<br/> + In yon deep cave he strives to rest,<br/> + But Mem'ry harrows up his breast;<br/> + He clasps the goblet, foe to Care,<br/> + And lo! Distraction hovers there. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to know,<br/> + The sad varieties of woe;<br/> + Where'er thy footsteps turn, to meet,<br/> + An earthquake yawning at thy feet,<br/> + While o'er thy head pale meteors glare,<br/> + And boding tempests fill the air,<br/> + In throbbing anguish doom'd to roam,<br/> + Yet never find a peaceful home.<br/> + Haste! to the shrine of Mercy hie,<br/> + There lift the penitential eye,<br/> + With breaking heart thy sins deplore,<br/> + And wound Integrity no more!<br/> + Repentance then thy soul shall save,<br/> + And snatch thee, ransom'd, from the grave. + </p> + <p class="center"> + JULY 1796. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr /> + <p class="center"> + <i>The death of Selred, last King of the East-Saxons, reduced + that part of the Heptarchy to dependance on Mercia. The rest + is imaginary</i>. + </p> + <hr /> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_11"><!-- RULE4 11 --></a> + CEN'LIN, PRINCE OF MERCIA. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + When Britain many chiefs obey'd,<br/> + And seven Saxon princes sway'd,<br/> + The Mercian monarch, fam'd afar,<br/> + In peace respected, fear'd in war,<br/> + Favour'd by heav'n above the rest,<br/> + In his brave son was fully blest;<br/> + For none like Cen'lin did arise,<br/> + So virtuous, elegant, and wise. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Of partial Mercian eyes the joy,<br/> + His parents idoliz'd the boy;<br/> + Saw with just pride each op'ning grace,<br/> + His charms of mind, of form, and face.<br/> + And as he oft, with modest air,<br/> + His thoughts and feelings did declare,<br/> + His father would delighted hear,<br/> + Would fondly drop the grateful tear;<br/> + And proudly cast his eyes around,<br/> + But not an equal could be found.<br/> + Warm from each lip applauses broke,<br/> + And every tongue his praises spoke;<br/> + The list'ning courtiers spread his fame,<br/> + And blessings follow'd Cen'lins name. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Now twenty summer's suns had flown,<br/> + And Mercia's hopes were fully blown;<br/> + When ah! conceal'd in coarse disguise,<br/> + To Selred's<a href="#note-12">12</a> court their + darling flies.<br/> + Selred, his father's scorn and hate,<br/> + Became the ruler of his fate.<br/> + There flatter'd, lov'd, the youth remain'd,<br/> + Till Cenulph's threats his heir regain'd.<br/> + But ah! no more the son of mirth,<br/> + His pensive eye now sought the earth;<br/> + No more within the dance to move,<br/> + Or list to sages, did he love;<br/> + But from surrounding friends would fly,<br/> + To pour in solitude the sigh.<br/> + And soon again the youth withdrew,<br/> + Again to th' Eastern-Saxons flew.<br/> + His father heard, opprest with woe,<br/> + His aged heart forgot to glow;<br/> + He learnt his foes an army led,<br/> + With youthful Cen'lin at their head,<br/> + He call'd his warriors forth to meet,<br/> + And stretch the rebel at his feet:<br/> + Tears from his eyes in anguish broke,<br/> + As thus the aged monarch spoke: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ye Mercians, let your banners fly!<br/> + The graceless youth this day shall die!<br/> + For, since he dares an army bring<br/> + Against his father and his king,<br/> + Though dear as life, I will not spare,<br/> + Nor listen to affection's pray'r!<br/> + If all my people should implore,<br/> + I'll pardon the rash boy no more!<br/> + His harden'd heart, to duty blind,<br/> + No ties of gratitude can bind;<br/> + This hoary head would else have rest,<br/> + And pleasure warm this aching breast.<br/> + Ah, cruel youth! thy wrongs I feel,<br/> + More deep than wounds of pointed steel.<br/> + For, if forlorn the parent's doom,<br/> + Who bears his offspring to the tomb,<br/> + Some comfort still his breast may know,<br/> + Some soothing thought may calm his woe,<br/> + And when he gives a loose to pain,<br/> + He feels not that he mourns in vain,<br/> + But fancies still his darling nigh,<br/> + And grateful for each bursting sigh,<br/> + Still bending o'er, with list'ning ear,<br/> + Each weeping, fond complaint to hear,<br/> + The dear-lov'd phantom hovers round,<br/> + And pours a balm in every wound. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "How doubly poignant is my smart,<br/> + Bereaved of my Cen'lin's heart!<br/> + Exil'd from that deluded breast,<br/> + Where I had fondly hop'd to rest,<br/> + With faith undoubting, sweet repose,<br/> + Till Death should bid my eye-lids close.<br/> + And sometimes yet will hope arise;<br/> + Till now he ever scorn'd disguise;<br/> + Some cursed fiend might taint his youth,<br/> + And warp a temper form'd for truth.<br/> + When late he humbly knelt for grace,<br/> + And clasp'd my knees in close embrace,<br/> + Upon his lips a secret hung,<br/> + But something seem'd to stay his tongue;<br/> + I prest not, for my anger slept,<br/> + And fondness only saw he wept;<br/> + Ah! fatal haste! then had I known<br/> + The serpent, I had sav'd my son!<br/> + Yet surely pardon frank as mine,<br/> + A noble heart would more confine!<br/> + When leaguing with my bitter foe,<br/> + To strike some grand, decisive blow;<br/> + Perhaps to rob me of my throne,<br/> + And make it, ere the time, his own;<br/> + Or, should wan guilt a danger dread,<br/> + To humble this devoted head,<br/> + Each throbbing pang of conscience drown,<br/> + And seize, with bloody hands, the crown.<br/> + O'er this offence I cast a veil,<br/> + And fondly hush'd the whisper'd tale.<br/> + Ah fool! deluded by the grace,<br/> + Of that fine form, and perfect face;<br/> + I thought his bosom free from sin,<br/> + Nor dreamt a demon lurk'd within.<br/> + His voice, which ever could controul,<br/> + Each passion of the hearer's soul,<br/> + With ease my partial heart beguil'd,<br/> + Who knew no sorrows when he smil'd.<br/> + And ah! my friends, your downcast eyes,<br/> + Your pensive air, and smother'd sighs,<br/> + All tell me you lament the fate,<br/> + Of him, whom yet you cannot hate.<br/> + And shall I bear then to behold,<br/> + That form inanimate and cold,<br/> + His smiling lips depriv'd of breath,<br/> + His eyes for ever clos'd in death!<br/> + Ah no! my heart with anguish swells,<br/> + And every throbbing vein rebels.<br/> + Let sorrow weep, or anger thrill,<br/> + Yet all the parent triumphs still. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Oh Father! who in mercy reigns,<br/> + If thy all-ruling will ordains,<br/> + That my unhappy Cen'lin dies,<br/> + Remove the picture from my eyes!<br/> + At the same moment set us free,<br/> + Both rebel sons, my God, to thee!"<br/> + Thus did the king pour forth his pray'r,<br/> + With all the wildness of despair;<br/> + Then, stilling every rising sigh,<br/> + He calm'd the anguish of his eye,<br/> + And though within the burthen lay,<br/> + He wip'd the falling tears away. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When lo! there comes a youthful train,<br/> + Descending swiftly to the plain,<br/> + Drest like the fairest sons of day,<br/> + In floating robes and colours gay;<br/> + No crested helmets there appear,<br/> + No glittering shield or pointed spear,<br/> + But youths with honey-suckles crown'd,<br/> + Or their fair locks with fillets bound,<br/> + Whose circling ranks and varied dyes,<br/> + Shew'd like the bow, that gilds the skies.<br/> + Whilst in the van a pair were seen,<br/> + Of peerless charms and graceful mien;<br/> + One lovely form the Mercians knew,<br/> + And gladden'd at the pleasing view,<br/> + Who, with the glow of youthful prime,<br/> + Had all the majesty of time.<br/> + And beauteous was the fair he led,<br/> + As any fabled Grecian maid;<br/> + The nymphs who tend Aurora's car,<br/> + And usher in the morning star,<br/> + Though made inhabitants of air,<br/> + Were not more elegant and fair;<br/> + Nor Dian's ever-healthful train,<br/> + When skimming o'er the spacious plain.<br/> + Had not more pure, more lively dyes,<br/> + Or brighter lustre in their eyes. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The king, so late by woe deprest,<br/> + Felt hope reanimate his breast,<br/> + And as his Cen'lin nearer drew,<br/> + His waking hopes more vivid grew.<br/> + "My friends," he cried, "will you believe,<br/> + That open mien can e'er deceive?<br/> + That blooming form can e'er unfold,<br/> + A heart ungenerous and cold,<br/> + That melting softness of the eye,<br/> + Can harbour direst cruelty?<br/> + Ah no! a poison's baleful pow'r,<br/> + Lurks not beneath so fair a flow'r.<br/> + Nor are those youths with amber hair,<br/> + Such as fell treason would prepare,<br/> + An aged monarch to dethrone,<br/> + And hear, unmov'd, a father's groan.<br/> + Gay are their looks, no dark disguise,<br/> + Dims the mild radiance of their eyes;<br/> + No murderous thoughts their souls employ,<br/> + But, heralds of transporting joy,<br/> + They come to bid suspicion cease,<br/> + And sooth my sorrow into peace."<br/> + Caution could scarce awhile controul<br/> + The strong delights of Cenulph's soul,<br/> + When Cen'lin knelt, and by his side<br/> + Half-kneeling, bent his lovely bride.<br/> + But, when he first essay'd to speak,<br/> + A hasty blush pass'd o'er his cheek,<br/> + He hung awhile his graceful head,<br/> + Till thus, with air confus'd he said:<br/> + "I come, by love with honours crown'd,<br/> + Yet sorrow casts a shade around,<br/> + That when my consort here I bring,<br/> + The heiress of a potent king,<br/> + The Mercians, clad in armour, come,<br/> + To lead their princess to her home.<br/> + No joyful hail our nuptial greets,<br/> + No proof of love my Ela meets,<br/> + But scarlet banners, waving high,<br/> + The bridal knot and wreath supply.<br/> + Alas! I see mistrust has won<br/> + E'en Cenulph's fondness from his son;<br/> + Or could my ever-honour'd sire,<br/> + A proof of Cen'lin's faith require?<br/> + Can force so needful now appear,<br/> + To aid a pow'r which I revere?<br/> + When eager beauty's form to view,<br/> + I first to Selred's court withdrew,<br/> + A single wish thy pow'r maintain'd,<br/> + A single wish thy son regain'd.<br/> + I left the maid whose matchless charms,<br/> + Each rooted prejudice disarms,<br/> + Who rul'd my heart with sovereign sway,<br/> + And taught a Mercian to obey<br/> + Laws that East-Saxons can impart,<br/> + When wit and beauty string the dart;<br/> + Left her when hope my doubts beguil'd,<br/> + And on our love her father smil'd.<br/> + Oft have I tried to win thine ear,<br/> + The fond, romantic tale to hear,<br/> + But when I found a lonely hour,<br/> + My coward soul has lost the pow'r;<br/> + As on my lips the accents hung,<br/> + Thy hate to Selred check'd my tongue.<br/> + Yet flattering hopes my passion fed,<br/> + And from thy court again I fled;<br/> + I thought when you my fair beheld,<br/> + And knew how greatly she excell'd,<br/> + In every charm, each art refin'd,<br/> + And virtue of the female mind,<br/> + Thy judgment would approve my choice,<br/> + And bless it with a cheerful voice.<br/> + And ah! though fortune did combine<br/> + With love, in making Ela mine,<br/> + I cannot from a grief refrain,<br/> + Remembering that I gave thee pain.<br/> + Yet if thy Cen'lin e'er could please,<br/> + If e'er my cares could give thee ease,<br/> + Let mild affection now arise,<br/> + And beam forgiveness from thine eyes!<br/> + No more thy son shall make thee know<br/> + A pain, or give thee cause of woe.<br/> + No nights the Mercians have to fear,<br/> + For all I love is center'd here,"<br/> + He spoke, and o'er his father's soul,<br/> + A stream of healing comfort stole;<br/> + He rose, with slow, majestic grace,<br/> + Tears of delight adorn'd his face,<br/> + His pious heart with rapture glow'd,<br/> + And joy a second youth bestow'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "To meet thee thus, my son," he cried,<br/> + "This peerless maiden for your bride,<br/> + Bids each distressing thought depart,<br/> + And joy again possess my heart.<br/> + Fair princess, thine the happy fate,<br/> + To heal the wounds of mutual hate;<br/> + No longer shall this bosom know,<br/> + An Eastern-Saxon as my foe;<br/> + And she, who bids that passion rest,<br/> + Doubt not, shall be supremely blest;<br/> + The part is holy and benign,<br/> + Befitting such a form as thine.<br/> + This day, far dearer than before,<br/> + Kind heav'n does twice my son restore,<br/> + For by those speaking looks I see,<br/> + Another valued child in thee." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + As then he raised them to his breast,<br/> + Around the joyful Mercians prest,<br/> + And made their shouts of triumph rise,<br/> + To the fair concave of the skies. + </p> + <p class="center"> + OCTOBER 1795. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="note-12"><!-- Note Anchor 12 --></a>12: King of the + East-Saxons. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_12"><!-- RULE4 12 --></a> + RHAPSODY. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Lo! here a cloud comes sailing, richly clad<br/> + In royal purple, which the parting beams<br/> + Of bounteous Phoebus edge with tints of gold<br/> + And lucid crimson. One might fancy it<br/> + A noble bird, that laves its graceful form,<br/> + And bathes its rosy bosom in the light.<br/> + Look! how it swells and rears its snowy crest<br/> + With haughty grandeur; while the blue expanse,<br/> + In smiling patience lets the boaster pass,<br/> + And swell his train with all the lazy vapours<br/> + That hover in the air: an easy prey<br/> + To the gigantic phantom, whose curl'd wing,<br/> + Sweeps in these worthless triflers of the sky,<br/> + And wraps them in his bosom. Go, vain shadow!<br/> + Sick with the burthen of thy fancied greatness,<br/> + A breath of zephyr wafts thee into nothing,<br/> + Scatters thy spreading plumes, uncrowns thy front,<br/> + And drives thee downward to thy mother earth,<br/> + To mix with vapour and dissolve in dew. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Such are the dreams of hope, which to the eye<br/> + Of youthful inexperience, seem to touch<br/> + The pure, unclouded sky of certainty.<br/> + Buoy'd up by the fond eloquence of thought,<br/> + And nurtur'd by the smile of vanity,<br/> + Each hour the air-born vision gathers bulk,<br/> + And Fancy decks it with a thousand hues,<br/> + Varied and wild, till it abounds in charms<br/> + Which sink the soul to sadness, when the breath<br/> + Of gentle Reason breaks the beauteous bubble,<br/> + And leaves us nought but vain regret behind. + </p> + <p class="center"> + FEBRUARY 1, 1797. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_13"><!-- RULE4 13 --></a> + HUMAN PLEASURE OR PAIN. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + When clouds and rain deform the sky, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And light'nings glare around, + </p> + <p> + Amidst the dreary, cheerless scene, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Some comfort may be found. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + There will, at some far-distant spot, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A streak of light appear, + </p> + <p> + Or, when the sullen vapours break, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The ether will be clear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And if the sun illumes the east, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And sheds his gladsome ray, + </p> + <p> + Some boding mist, or passing cloud + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Will threat the rising day. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The heart rejoicing in the view, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And dancing with delight, + </p> + <p> + Oft feels the touch of palsied fear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And sinks at thought of night. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + So Hope's bright torch more clearly shines, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Amidst surrounding gloom, + </p> + <p> + And, beldame Fortune vainly throws + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Her mantle o'er the tomb. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + MARCH 15,1797. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_14"><!-- RULE4 14 --></a> + THE COMPLAINT OF FANCY. + </h2> + <h3> + To A.R.C. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + As, musing, late I sat reclin'd,<br/> + And waking dreams absorb'd my mind,<br/> + A damsel came, of various dyes,<br/> + Like painted Iris from the skies;<br/> + A purfled saffron was her vest,<br/> + And sweet gum-cistus form'd her crest;<br/> + In many a playful ring, her hair<br/> + Flew light and flossy in the air;<br/> + The mantle, blue and gold, she wore,<br/> + A rose of opals held before,<br/> + While, graceful in her fairy hand,<br/> + Appear'd a crimson-tufted wand,<br/> + Whose shade on every object threw<br/> + A glowing tint of roseate hue. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Whence art thou, blooming nymph?" I cried,<br/> + And thus a tuneful voice replied:<br/> + "Men call me Fancy; at my shrine<br/> + Myriads confess my power divine;<br/> + There painters bend the willing knee,<br/> + And laurell'd poets sue to me:<br/> + For mine is every vivid ray,<br/> + Which partial Nature gave the day;<br/> + And, to the music of my song,<br/> + A thousand nameless charms belong. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "The friend of Happiness, I dwell<br/> + Belov'd alike in court or cell;<br/> + Where Glory lifts her ardent eye,<br/> + With hasty, kindred zeal I fly,<br/> + In sun-beams place the hero's form,<br/> + And bid his arm command the storm;<br/> + On swelling clouds an altar raise,<br/> + And fan the tow'ring flame of praise. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Oft, from the lorn enthusiast's lyre,<br/> + My fingers strike etherial fire,<br/> + And give to sounds of piercing woe,<br/> + Extatic rapture's fervent glow.<br/> + Oft sooth the maniac's throbbing vein,<br/> + And grace her simple, wilder'd strain;<br/> + The tribe of Pain in fetters keep,<br/> + Lull wounded Memory to sleep,<br/> + And, in the mind of gloomy Care,<br/> + Bid Thought an angel's semblance wear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Dear to each blest aerial pow'r,<br/> + E'en Wisdom calls me to her bow'r;<br/> + My songs her leisure hours beguile,<br/> + And teach her holy lip to smile.<br/> + And, when the Muse, with thoughtful care,<br/> + Has woven chaplets for her hair,<br/> + I let her, with her myrtles, twine,<br/> + Full many a fragrant rose of mine. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Then why, since all the wise and gay,<br/> + To me a grateful homage pay,<br/> + Since I to all my hand extend,<br/> + And, liberal, every heart befriend,<br/> + Does Nancy from the croud retire,<br/> + And rend my blossoms from her lyre?<br/> + Though every string the loss bewail,<br/> + And tones of mellow sweetness fail,<br/> + Which us'd to charm the pensive ear,<br/> + When list'ning Friendship bent to hear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Tell her I wish not to intrude<br/> + Upon her sacred solitude,<br/> + Nor cast my undulating chain,<br/> + Around her glowing heart again;<br/> + No! every claim I now resign,<br/> + Yet let some small regard be mine;<br/> + Let one, who nurs'd her infant years,<br/> + And wip'd away some bitter tears,<br/> + Still animate the scenes around,<br/> + And make her tread on fairy ground;<br/> + Give playful sweetness to each lay,<br/> + And decorate the passing day. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Tell her, if now she scorns my strain,<br/> + She may invoke my name in vain;<br/> + In vain my proffered aid implore,<br/> + Contemn'd, I hardly pardon more." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + She said, and springing from the earth,<br/> + Attending found her suitor Mirth,<br/> + Who caught her hand, with lively air,<br/> + And plac'd her in his silver chair,<br/> + Which through the yielding ether flew,<br/> + And quickly bore them from my view. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3><a name="RULE4_14a"><!-- RULE4 14 --></a> + ON THE + </h3> + <h2> + EVE OF DEPARTURE + </h2> + <h3> + From O—— + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Loud beats the rain! The hollow groan + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of rushing winds I hear, + </p> + <p> + That with a deep and sullen moan, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Pass slowly by the ear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Soon will my dying fire refuse + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To yield a cheerful ray, + </p> + <p> + Yet, shivering still I sit and muse + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The latest spark away. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah, what a night! the chilly air + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Bids comfort hence depart, + </p> + <p> + While sad repining's clammy wings + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Cling icy, to my heart. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + To-morrow's dawn may fair arise, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lovely to the view; + </p> + <p> + The sun with radiance gild the skies, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Yet then—I say adieu! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh, stay, dear Night, with cautious care, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lingering footsteps move, + </p> + <p> + Though day may be more soft and fair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Not her, but thee, I love. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Stay, wild in brow, severe in mien, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Stay! and ward off the foe; + </p> + <p> + Who, unrelenting smiles serene, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Yet tells me I must go. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Forsake these hospitable halls, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Where Truth and Friendship dwell, + </p> + <p> + To these high towers and ancient walls, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Pronounce a long farewell. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Alas! will Time's rapacious hand, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + These golden days restore? + </p> + <p> + Or will he suffer me to taste + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + These golden days no more? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Will he permit that here again, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I turn my willing feet? + </p> + <p> + That my glad eyes may here again, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The look of kindness meet? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + That here I ever may behold, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Felicity to dwell, + </p> + <p> + And often have the painful task + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of sighing out farewell? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah, be it so! my fears I lose, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By hope's sweet visions fed; + </p> + <p> + And as I fly to seek repose, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + She flutters round my bed. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + NOV. 17, 1796. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_15"><!-- RULE4 15 --></a> + TO M.I. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Thou, Margaret, lov'st the secret shade, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The murmuring brook, or tow'ring tree; + </p> + <p> + The village cot within the glade, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lonely walk have charms for thee. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + To thee more dear the jasmine bow'r, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That shelt'ring, undisturb'd retreat, + </p> + <p> + Than the high canopy of pow'r, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or Luxury's embroider'd seat. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + More sweet the early morning breeze, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Whose odours fill the rural vale, + </p> + <p> + The waving bosom of the seas, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When ruffled by the rising gale. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Than all which pride or pomp bestow, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To grace the lofty Indian maid, + </p> + <p> + Who prizes more the diamond's glow, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Than all in humbler vest array'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Sweet is the rural festive song, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which sounds so wildly o'er the plain, + </p> + <p> + When thoughtless mirth the notes prolong, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And heart-felt pleasure pours the strain. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Sweet is the dance where light and gay, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The village maiden trips along; + </p> + <p> + Her simple robe in careless play, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + As her fleet step winds round the throng. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Sweet is the labourer's blazing fire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When evening shades invite to rest; + </p> + <p> + Though weary, home does joy inspire, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And social love dilates his breast. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + His rural lass with glee prepares, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The dainties fondness made her hoard; + </p> + <p> + Her husband now the banquet shares, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And children croud around the board. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ah! who could wish to view the air + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of listless ease and languid wealth? + </p> + <p> + Who with such pleasures could compare + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The joys of innocence and health? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + AUGUST 20, 1796. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_16"><!-- RULE4 16 --></a> + CANTATA. DEL METASTASIO. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + "D'atre nubi è il sol ravvolto, + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + Luce infausta il Ciel colora. + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + Pur chi sa? Quest' alma ancora + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + La speranza non perdè. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Non funesta ogni tempesta + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + Co' naufragj all' onde il seno; + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + Ogni tuono, ogni baleno + </p> + <p class="poem4"> + Sempre un fulmine non è." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <h3> + TRANSLATION. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Dark, mournful clouds hang o'er the sun, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Lights gleam portentous in the air, + </p> + <p> + And yet who knows? This troubled heart + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Still gives not up to blank despair. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Not big with shipwrecks every storm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That sweeps the bosom of the main, + </p> + <p> + Nor does the threatening, turbid sky, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Always the thunder-bolt contain. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + LA FORTUNA. DELLO STESSO. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + A chi serena io miro, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Chiaro è di notte il cielo: + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Torna per lui nel gelo + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + La terra a germogliar. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ma se a taluno io giro + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Torbido il guardo, e fosco, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Fronde gli niega il bosco, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Onde non trova in mar. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <h3> + TRANSLATION. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + To him whom kindly I behold, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The midnight sky is clear, + </p> + <p> + And 'mid the wintry frost and cold, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The blushing flowers appear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But to the wretch who meets my eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When kindled by disdain, + </p> + <p> + The very grove will leaves deny, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And waveless be the main. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + CANTATA DELLO STESSO. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Finchè un zeffiro soave + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Tien del mar l'ira placata, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Ogni nave + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + È fortunata, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + È felice ogni nocchier; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + È ben prova di coraggio + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Incontrar l'onde funeste, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Navigar fra le tempeste, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + E non perdere il sentier. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <h3> + TRANSLATION. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Whilst zephyr sooths the angry waves + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of Ocean into rest, + </p> + <p> + Each vessel is in safety borne, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And every pilot blest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But he indeed demands our praise, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Who stems the tempest's force, + </p> + <p> + And midst the ire of hostile waves, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Pursues his destin'd course. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_22"><!-- RULE4 22 --></a> + SONETTO. + </h2> + <h3> + DI GIOVANNI DELLA CASA. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Oh sonno, oh della cheta, umida, ombrosa + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Notte placido figlio; oh de' mortali + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Egri conforto, oblio dolce de' mali, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Sì gravi, ond' è la vita aspra, e nojosa: + </p> + <p> + Soccorri al core omai, che langue, e posa + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Non have; e queste membra stanche, e frali + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Solleva: a me ten vola, oh sonno, e l'ali + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Tue brune sovra me distendi, e posa. + </p> + <p> + Ov' è il silenzio, che'l dì fugge, e'l + lume? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + E i lievi sogni, che con non secure + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Vestigia di seguirti han per costume? + </p> + <p> + Lasso, che'nvan te chiamo, e queste oscure, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + E gelide ombre invan lusingo; oh piume + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + D'asprezza colme; oh notti acerbe, e dure! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + SONNET, TO SLEEP. + </h2> + <h3> + TRANSLATION. + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Son of the silent, dark, and humid Night, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Consoler of the wretched, by whose sway + </p> + <p> + The gloomy train of ills are put to flight, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That blacken Life's uncertain, tedious day, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + O! succour now this restless, pining heart! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Give to these feeble, weary limbs repose! + </p> + <p> + Fly to me, Sleep! and let thy sombre wings + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Over my couch their dusky plumes disclose! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + O! where is Silence, who avoids the light? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Where the wild dreams that flutter in thy train? + </p> + <p> + Alas! in vain I call thee, cruel Night! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And flatter these insensate shades in vain. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And oh! without thy cheering dews are shed,<br/> + How full of hardships is the downy bed! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_24"><!-- RULE4 24 --></a> + EDITHA. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Breathing the violet-scented gale, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Near to a river's limpid source, + </p> + <p> + Which, through a wide-extended vale, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Wound slowly on its sleeping course, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Attended by a youthful pair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With rubied lip and roving eye, + </p> + <p> + Oft would fair Editha repair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And let her children wander nigh. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + There pleas'd behold their footsteps turn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To each new object in their way, + </p> + <p> + Their ringlets glittering in the sun, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Their faces careless, blythe, and gay. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Once, when they drest their flaxen hair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With flow'rets wild of various hue, + </p> + <p> + And with a proud, exulting air, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To their delighted parent drew: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ah! thus may every day arise! + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And pleasure thus your hearts, pervade!" + </p> + <p> + The widow'd mother fondly cries, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + "Before the youthful blossoms fade. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "My sighs are all dispers'd in air, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Resign'd to fate, I weep no more, + </p> + <p> + Your welfare now is all my care, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Yet am I constant as before. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "The world, because a vermil bloom, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Tinges my yet unfading cheek, + </p> + <p> + Says I forget my William's tomb, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A new and earthly love to seek. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Because I join the social train, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With lip that wears a kindred smile; + </p> + <p> + And a gay sonnet's lively strain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Does oft the lonely hour beguile: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Because no longer now I mourn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With sweeping robes of sable hue; + </p> + <p> + No more I clasp the marble urn, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or vainly bid the world adieu. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Ah! ill my secret soul they know, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Where my lost hero still remains, + </p> + <p> + Where memory makes my bosom glow, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And binds me still in closer chains. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Whoe'er hath seen my William's form, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Heighten'd with every martial grace, + </p> + <p> + The ever-varying, unknown charm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which beam'd in his expressive face; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Or heard his fine ideas try, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + In Fancy's fairy garb to teach, + </p> + <p> + While the sweet language of his eye, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Excell'd the eloquence of speech, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Could ne'er suppose my faith would fail, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or aught again this heart enslave; + </p> + <p> + That absence would o'er love prevail, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Or hope be bounded by the grave. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Could all but I his merit know? + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + His wit and talents see? + </p> + <p> + And is his name by all below + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Remember'd, but by me? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No, ne'er will I the memory lose, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Though from my sight thy form is flown, + </p> + <p> + Of tenderness for other's woes, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And noble firmness in thy own. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "No slavish fear thy soul deprest, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of Death, or his attendant train; + </p> + <p> + For in thy pure and spotless breast, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The fear of heav'n did only reign. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Thus, when the still-unsated waves + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Spread o'er thy head their whelming arms, + </p> + <p> + When horrid darkness reign'd around, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And lightnings flash'd their dire alarms, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + <a href="#note-13">13</a>"When, wing'd with death, each + moment flew, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And blood the foaming ocean stain'd, + </p> + <p> + Thy courage cool, consistent, true, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Its native energy maintain'd. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And when the fatal moment came, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The bullet enter'd in thy side, + </p> + <p> + Only thy spirit's beauteous frame, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Its prisoner flying, droop'd and died. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "This is it that consoles my mind, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Which to my love aspiring flies, + </p> + <p> + And makes me hope, in future days, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + To hail my William in the skies. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Should tears from my pale eyelids steal, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + I teach my children's how to flow, + </p> + <p> + And make their little bosoms feel, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Before their time, the touch, of woe. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "I will not weep! the world shall see + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That I a nobler tribute pay; + </p> + <p> + More grateful both to heaven and thee, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + By guiding them in virtue's way." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Embracing then her fondest cares, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + She cast her raptur'd eyes above, + </p> + <p> + And breath'd to heav'n emphatic pray'rs, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Of mingled reverence and love. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + APRIL 15, 1795. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="note-13"><!-- Note Anchor 13 --></a>13: I know not + if I have expressed myself with much clearness here, but I + meant to describe a sea-fight as concisely as possible. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_25"><!-- RULE4 25 --></a> + TO M.I. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Light breezes dance along the air, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The sky in smiles is drest, + </p> + <p> + And heav'ns pure vault, serene and fair, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Pourtrays the cheerful breast. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Each object on this moving ball + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Assumes a lovely hue; + </p> + <p> + So fair good-humour brightens all + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + That comes within her view. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Her presence glads the youthful train, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Reanimates the gay, + </p> + <p> + And, round her, by the couch of pain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + The light-wing'd graces play. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Her winning mein and prompt reply, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Can sullen pride appease; + </p> + <p> + And the sweet arching of her eye + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + E'en apathy must please. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + To you, with whom the damsel dwells + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A voluntary guest, + </p> + <p> + To you, Maria, memory tells, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + This tribute is addrest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The feeble strains that I bequeath, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With melody o'erpay; + </p> + <p> + And let thy lov'd piano breathe + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A sweet responsive lay. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Although the mellow sounds will rise, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + So distant from my ear, + </p> + <p> + The charmer Fancy, when she tries, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Can make them present here. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Can paint thee, as with raptur'd bend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + You hail the powers of song; + </p> + <p> + When the light fingers quick descend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And fly the notes along: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Feel the soft chord of sadness meet, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + An echo in the soul, + </p> + <p> + And waking joy the strains repeat, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + When Mirth's-quick measures roll. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + This "mistress of the powerful spell," + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Can every joy impart; + </p> + <p> + And ah! you doubtless know too well + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + How she can wring the heart. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + She rules me with despotic reign, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + As now I say <i>adieu</i>; + </p> + <p> + And makes me feel a sort of pain, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + As if I spoke to you. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="center"> + FEB. 14, 1797. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3><a name="RULE4_26"><!-- RULE4 26 --></a> + WRITTEN IN + </h3> + <h2> + ZIMMERMANN'S SOLITUDE. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Hail, melancholy sage! whose thoughtful eye,<br/> + Shrunk from the mere <i>spectator's</i> careless + gaze,<br/> + And, in retirement sought the social smile,<br/> + The heart-endearing aspect, and the voice<br/> + Of soothing tenderness, which Friendship breathes,<br/> + And which sounds far more grateful to the ear,<br/> + Than the soft notes of distant flute at eve,<br/> + Stealing across the waters: Zimmermann!<br/> + Thou draw'st not Solitude as others do,<br/> + With folded arms, with pensive, nun-like air,<br/> + And tearful eye, averted from mankind.<br/> + No! warm, benign, and cheerful, she appears<br/> + The friend of Health, of Piety, and Peace;<br/> + The kind Samaritan that heals our woes,<br/> + The nurse of Science, and, of future fame<br/> + The gentle harbinger: her meek abode<br/> + Is that dear home, which still the virtuous heart,<br/> + E'en in the witching maze of Pleasure's dance,<br/> + In wild Ambition's dream, regards with love,<br/> + And hopes, with fond security, to pass<br/> + The evening of a long-protracted day,<br/> + Serenely joyful, there. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3><a name="RULE4_27"><!-- RULE4 27 --></a> + IN MEMORY OF + </h3> + <h2> + MR. AGOSTINO ISOLA, + </h2> + <h3> + OF CAMBRIDGE, + </h3> + <p class="center"> + Who died on the 5th of June, 1797. + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Awake, O Gratitude! nor let the tears<br/> + Of selfish Sorrow smother up thy voice,<br/> + When it should speak of a departed friend.<br/> + A tender friend, the first I ever lost!<br/> + For Destiny till now was merciful,<br/> + And though I oft have felt a transient pang,<br/> + For worth unknown, and wept awhile for those,<br/> + Whom long acquaintance only made me love,<br/> + No keen regret laid pining at my heart,<br/> + Nor Memory in the solitary hour,<br/> + Would sting with grief, as when she speaks<br/> + Thy virtue, knowledge, wisdom, gentleness,<br/> + Thy venerable age, and says that I<br/> + Had once the happiness to call thee friend. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Yes! I once bore that title, and my heart<br/> + Thought nobler of itself, that one so good,<br/> + So honor'd, so rever'd, should give it me.<br/> + O <i>Isola!</i> when that glad season comes,<br/> + Which brought redemption to a ruin'd world,<br/> + And, like thee, hides beneath the snow of age,<br/> + A gay, benevolent, and feeling heart,<br/> + I hop'd again to hear thy tongue repeat,<br/> + With youthful warmth and zealous energy,<br/> + Those passages, where Poetry assumes<br/> + An air divine, and wakes th' attentive soul<br/> + To holy rapture! Then you promis'd me<br/> + The luxury to weep o'er Dante's muse,<br/> + And fair Italia's loftier poets hail. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p style="text-align: right"> + I have often heard + </p> + <p> + That years would blunt the feelings of the soul, + </p> + <p> + And apathy ice the once-glowing heart. + </p> + <p> + Injurious prejudice! Dear, guileless friend! + </p> + <p> + Thou read'st mankind, but saw not, or forgot + </p> + <p> + Their faults and vices; for thy breast was still + </p> + <p> + The residence of sweet Simplicity, + </p> + <p> + Daughter of letter'd Wisdom, and the friend + </p> + <p> + Of Love and Pity. Happy soul, farewell! + </p> + <p> + Long shall we mourn thee! longer will it be, + </p> + <p> + "Ere we shall look upon thy like again!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr /> + <p> + This humble tribute to the memory of my venerated friend, was + written in the first impulse of my sorrow for his loss, and + though unworthy of his virtues, is still a small memorial of + my respect for a man, on whose tomb might justly be + inscribed, as I have seen on an old monument: + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="poem2"> + "Heven hath his soule. + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + He fruits of Pietie, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + This Towne his want. + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Our hearts his Memorie." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_28"><!-- RULE4 28 --></a> + TO THE NUNS OF BODNEY. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Ye holy women, say! will ye accept<br/> + The passing tribute of a humble friend?<br/> + Stranger indeed to you and to your faith,<br/> + But O! I hope not stranger to the zeal,<br/> + Which warm'd your bosoms in Religion's cause.<br/> + When impious men commanded you to break<br/> + The vow which bound your souls, and which in youth<br/> + Warm Piety's emphatic lips had made.<br/> + Say! will ye suffer me on that rude tomb,<br/> + Where she reposes (whose benignant smile,<br/> + Whose animated, life-inspiring eye,<br/> + And faded form, majestic, still appears<br/> + In Thought's delusive hour) to shed a tear?<br/> + On her, whose sainted look, though seen but once,<br/> + I never can forget, till Time shall wrap<br/> + The veil of Death around me, and make dumb<br/> + The voice of Memory. Ah! "how low she lies!"<br/> + No marble monument to speak her praise,<br/> + And tell the world that here a DILLON rests.<br/> + One, who in beauty's prime forsook the world,<br/> + And, <i>self-bereav'd</i> of all it holds most + dear,<br/> + Retir'd, to pass the pilgrimage of life,<br/> + In solemn prayer and peaceful solitude.<br/> + Ah, vain desire! Ambition's scowling eye<br/> + Must see the cloister, as the palace, low,<br/> + And meek-ey'd Quiet quit her last abode,<br/> + Ere he can pause to look upon the wreck,<br/> + And rue the wild impatience of his hand. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Hail! blessed spirit! This rude cypher'd stone.<br/> + On which a sister's pensive eye shall muse<br/> + In sorrow, and another relative<br/> + In sweet, though mournful, recollection, bend,<br/> + Shall call a tear into the stranger's eye<br/> + Whene'er he hears the tale, yet make him proud<br/> + That Britain's hospitable land should yield<br/> + All that you could accept, <i>an humble grave</i>. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3> + <i>Written in London, on the 19th of March, 1796.</i> + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + A lov'd companion, chosen friend, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Does at this hour depart, + </p> + <p> + Whom the dear name of father binds + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Still closer to my heart. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + On him may joy-dispensing heav'n + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Each calm delight bestow, + </p> + <p> + And eas'd of peace-destroying care + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + His life serenely flow! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Did I but know his bosom calm, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + And free from anxious fear, + </p> + <p> + Around me in more cheerful hues + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Would every scene appear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And I will hope that he, who ne'er + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Repin'd at heav'n's decree, + </p> + <p> + But ever patient and resign'd, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Submissive bent the knee: + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Who, best of fathers, never sought + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + For arbitrary sway, + </p> + <p> + But free within each youthful mind, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + Bade Reason lead the way. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Who taught us, 'stead of servile fear, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + A warm esteem to prove, + </p> + <p> + And bade each act of duty spring, + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + From gratitude and love. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Yes, I must hope that generous mind + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With many cares opprest, + </p> + <p> + Shall in the winter of his days + </p> + <p class="poem2"> + With sweet repose be blest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr /> + <p class="center"> + <i>A friend, a year or two ago, gave me</i> Joseph's + Reconciliation with his Brethren, <i>as a subject to write + upon; but I was afraid of not treating it in such a manner as + a sacred story deserved, and gave up the attempt, when I had + written little more than the following lines, to account for + their not knowing him, although he well remembered them; and + am persuaded to let them appear here</i>. + </p> + <hr /> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_29"><!-- RULE4 29 --></a> + FRAGMENT. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <hr style="width: 35%" /> + <p> + They, ere he left them, had attain'd their prime<br/> + And were less alter'd by the hand of Time;<br/> + But, the slim youth no longer met their view,<br/> + Fair, as the fancy e'er a seraph drew.<br/> + Who still, upborne by joy, in smiles was found,<br/> + With step elate that scarcely press'd the ground.<br/> + Before a grief had raz'd his youthful breast,<br/> + Or care had robb'd his brilliant eyes of rest.<br/> + When lofty visions swam before his sight,<br/> + And dreams of empire wrapt his soul at night.<br/> + Whose hair luxuriant flow'd in glossy pride,<br/> + And, from his snowy forehead, wav'd aside;<br/> + Which, vein'd with purest azure, rose serene,<br/> + And threw complacence o'er a rapturous mien.<br/> + The wandering light that sparkled in his eye,<br/> + The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye,<br/> + The speaking form, by each emotion sway'd,<br/> + The voice, that softest music had convey'd,<br/> + Were now matur'd. No more the child they saw,<br/> + But one, with majesty, inspiring awe;<br/> + Whose silken locks no more in ringlets flow,<br/> + But gold and purple bind his manly brow:<br/> + No more the envied robe his limbs invest,<br/> + In all the pomp of eastern monarchs drest.<br/> + The sun of Egypt had embrown'd his face,<br/> + And time had ripen'd every youthful grace. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + As when the morn, in vivid colours gay,<br/> + And tender beauty, flies to meet the day,<br/> + Her lively tints lose their primeval hue,<br/> + The white and saffron mingle with the blue,<br/> + A glowing blush o'er the whole ether reigns,<br/> + But not a cloud its genuine tint retains. + </p> + <hr style="width: 35%" /> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2><a name="RULE4_30"><!-- RULE4 30 --></a> + FRAGMENT. + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Where yonder mossy ruins lie,<br/> + And desolation strikes the eye,<br/> + A noble mansion, high and fair,<br/> + Once rear'd its turrets in the air.<br/> + There infant warriors drew their breath,<br/> + And learn'd to scorn the fear of death.<br/> + In halls where martial trophies hung,<br/> + They listen'd while the minstrels sung,<br/> + Of pain and glory, toil and care,<br/> + And all the horrid charms of war:<br/> + There caught the fond desire of fame,<br/> + And panted for a hero's name.<br/> + Alas! too oft in youthful bloom,<br/> + Renown has crown'd the early tomb,<br/> + Has pierc'd the widow's bosom deep,<br/> + And taught the mother's eyes to weep.<br/> + She, on whose tale the stripling hung,<br/> + While pride and sorrow rul'd her tongue.<br/> + His father's gallant acts to tell,<br/> + How bold he fought, how bravely fell. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Methinks e'en now I hear her speak,<br/> + I see the tear upon her cheek;<br/> + The musing boy's abstracted brow,<br/> + And the high-arching eye below.<br/> + The stifled sigh and anxious heave,<br/> + The kindling heart which dares not grieve;<br/> + The finely-elevated head,<br/> + The hand upon the bosom spread,<br/> + Proclaim him wrought by potent charms,<br/> + And speak his very soul in arms. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Incautious zeal! what hast thou done?<br/> + The tale has robb'd thee of thy son.<br/> + And while thy pious tears deplore,<br/> + The loss of him who lives no more,<br/> + Ambition wakes her restless fire,<br/> + The boy will emulate his sire, + </p> + <hr style="width: 35%" /> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3><a name="RULE4_31"><!-- RULE4 31 --></a> + <i>Written April the 18th, 1796</i> + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + The beauteous queen of social love,<br/> + Descending from the realms above,<br/> + Through the wide space of ether flew,<br/> + With care this little world to view,<br/> + Till, tir'd with wandering, at the last,<br/> + Through every different climate past,<br/> + She sought not out a splendid dome,<br/> + But made this humble cot her home. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The sweetest lyre would strive in vain,<br/> + To sing the pleasures of her reign,<br/> + Whose powerful influence does impart,<br/> + New softness to the feeling heart,<br/> + Bids it each narrow thought resign,<br/> + And fills it with a warmth benign. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + From morning till the close of day,<br/> + Here all a grateful homage pay,<br/> + For here she plays her harmless wiles,<br/> + And scatters her endearing smiles;<br/> + Here no proud rivals intervene,<br/> + And all, though glowing, is serene.<br/> + Here, since she first her visit paid,<br/> + Still has the sweet enchantress staid,<br/> + And never met a single slight,<br/> + Or spread her snowy plumes for flight. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Contented 'neath the humble roof;<br/> + No timid heart is kept aloof;<br/> + A kind and condescending guest,<br/> + She lightens each despairing breast;<br/> + Where pain her poignant venom spreads,<br/> + The balm of tenderness she sheds,<br/> + Which breathes a calm repose around,<br/> + And heals at last the burning wound. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When the heart throbs with bitter woe,<br/> + Her winning mien disarms the foe,<br/> + And the kind glances of her eye,<br/> + Force the desponding power to fly.<br/> + She gives a zest to every joy,<br/> + Forbids tranquillity to cloy,<br/> + Softens misfortune, chases fear,<br/> + And balm distills in every tear.<br/> + 'Tis she alone can make us know,<br/> + A truly blissful hour below,<br/> + Can smooth the furrow'd brow of life,<br/> + And hush the thundering voice of strife. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + O, may she still exert her power,<br/> + Still lead us to the rural bower,<br/> + Which vaunting Pride does ne'er disgrace,<br/> + Or critic Envy's spiteful face.<br/> + Here Raymond ever shall delight,<br/> + To sit and watch the closing night;<br/> + And open-hearted Gertrude here,<br/> + With her sweet infant shall appear.<br/> + Here oft her brother shall prepare,<br/> + A wreath for Mary's curling hair;<br/> + While soft-voic'd Anna, fond of play,<br/> + And all the train, alert and gay,<br/> + In healthful games shall frolic round,<br/> + And revel on the mossy ground. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Here Edmund shall forget his care,<br/> + And often fill an elbow chair;<br/> + While Sophia, friendly and sincere,<br/> + Shall ever find a welcome here. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Yet would my hovering fancy trace,<br/> + The features of each happy face;<br/> + And sympathy informs my mind,<br/> + That they the same emotions find;<br/> + That in each scene of harmless glee,<br/> + Memory recalls the absent three:<br/> + And all, though distance strives to part,<br/> + Will hold communion in the heart. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr style="width: 25%" /> + <p class="center"> + FINIS. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + +<div style='display:block; 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Elegies and Other Small Poems + +Author: Matilda Betham + +Release Date: February 20, 2004 [EBook #11193] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELEGIES AND OTHER SMALL POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +ELEGIES AND OTHER SMALL POEMS + +BY + +MATILDA BETHAM. + + + +_To the Hon. LADY JERNINGHAM_. + +_Madam_, + +_The many endearing instances of regard I have experienced since I had +the honor of being known to your Ladyship, while they impress my mind +with gratitude, flatter my hopes with a favourable reception of the +following miscellanies, which, under your patronage, I venture to submit +to the public_. + +_Considered as the first essays of an early period of life, and as the +exercises of leisure, my wishes suggest, that they may not, perhaps, be +found wholly unworthy of attention; but whatever be their fate with +others, I shall feel myself much gratified, if, in your Ladyship's +judgment, they may be allowed some merit_. + +_Though there cannot be a greater pleasure than dwelling on the +excellencies of a distinguished and amiable character, I know not that +it would be permitted me to indulge my present inclination with +enumerating those virtues and endowments which confessedly distinguish +your Ladyship, but my wishes I may offer, and that you may long, very +long, continue to bless your family, to adorn your rank, and console +the unhappy, is the sincere prayer of_ + +_Your Ladyship's most obliged humble servant, MATILDA BETHAM_. + +_Stonham, Nov. 20, 1797._ + + + + +TO THE READER. + + +If, in the following pages, there may be found any unacknowledged +imitations, I hope I shall not be censured as an intentional plagiarist; +for it has been my wish, however I may be esteemed presumptuous, not +to be unjust; and I sometimes fear lest an imperfect recollection of +another's idea should have appeared to me as a dawning thought of my +own. Wherever I could recollect a similar passage, although unnoticed +at the time I wrote, it has been either altered or acknowledged. + +I commit these trifles to the press with the anxiety necessarily +resulting from a desire that they may not be deemed altogether +worthless. Though the natural partiality of the writer may be somewhat +strengthened by the commendations of friends and parents, I am well +aware that no apology can give currency to imperfection. + +I have not vainly attempted to ascend to the steeps of Parnassus. If, +wandering at its foot, I have mistaken perishable shrubs for never-dying +flowers, the errors of a youthful mind, first viewing the fascinating +regions of fancy, will not be rigidly condemned; for wherever there +is true taste, there will be genuine candour. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + To ----, with Arthur and Albina + Arthur and Albina + The Fraternal Duel + Lines in a Letter to A.R.C. + The Lonely Walk + The Outlaw + Invitation + Whitsun-Monday + Philemon + On a Fan + To Simplicity + The Terrors of Guilt + Cen'lin, Prince of Mercia + Rhapsody + Human Pleasure or Pain + The Complaint of Fancy + On the Eve of Departure from O---- + To M.I. + Translation from Metastasio + ---------- from Della Casa + Editha + To M.I. + Written in Zimmerman's Solitude + To the Memory of Mr. Agostino Isola + To the Nuns of Bodney + Written in London + Fragment + Fragment + Written April 18, 1796. + + + + +To ---- WITH ARTHUR and ALBINA. + +1794. + + +Ah! if your eye should e'er these lines survey, +Dismiss from thence its penetrating ray: +Let Criticism then her distance keep, +And dreaded Justice then be lull'd to sleep; +For, let whatever sentence be their due, +I feel I cannot censure bear from you. + + + * * * * * + +_A British Maid awaits the arrival of her lover from the battle, on a +hill, where, at its commencement, she had retired to make vows to heaven +for his success.--Evening_. + + * * * * * + + + + +ARTHUR and ALBINA. + + +Ah me! the yellow western sky turns pale, + And leaves the cheerless sons of earth to mourn; +And yet I hear net in the silent vale, + A sound to tell me Arthur does return. + +Ah, haste ye hours! quick plume the loit'ring wing! + Bring back my hero, crown'd with glorious spoils! +Let bards on lofty harps his triumphs sing, + And loud applause repay successful toils! + +Reward the flame, ye great celestial pow'rs, + The noble flame that in his bosom glows! +Inspire him, Druids, from your holy bow'rs, + With strength to conquer iron-breasted foes![1] + +With heighten'd vigour brace his nervous arm, + And let his lance with ten-fold fury fly, +Make him terrific by some potent charm, + And add new lightening to his piercing eye! + +Then may my lover gain unrivall'd fame, + The Roman banners may less proudly flow, +Then he may humble their detested name, + And their high plumes wave o'er' a British brow! + +Then may his chariot,[2] wheeling o'er the plain, + Hurl death and desolation all around, +While his intrepid front appals their train, + And make our proud invaders bite the ground! + +But yet I hear no lively foot advance; + No sound of triumph greets my list'ning ear!' +And I may carve this eagle-darting lance + For one, whose voice I never more shall hear! + +Perhaps my vows have never reach'd the skies, + Nor heav'n, propitious, smil'd upon my pray'r; +And ah! to morrow's crimson dawn may rise + To plunge me in the horrors of despair! + +Yet well he knows the dreadful spear to wield-- + Alas! their fearful limbs are fenc'd with care: +And, what can valour, when th'extended shield[3] + May leave, so oft, his gen'rous bosom bare? + +Say, reverend Druids, can you bless in vain? + Can you in vain extend your spotless hands? +Will not heav'n listen when its priests complain, + And save its altars from unhallow'd bands? + +Oh yes! I'll fear no more! The sacred groves,[4] + That rear their untouch'd branches to the skies; +Beneath whose shade its chosen servant roves, + Hidden from weak, unconsecrated eyes: + +Beneath whose shade the choral bards rehearse, + Piercing, with uprais'd eyes, each mist that shrouds, +And, listening, catch the heav'n-dictated verse, + By airs etherial wailed from the clouds: + +It ne'er can be--but hark! I hear the sound + Of some one's step; yet not the youth I love; +He would have flown, and scarcely touch'd the ground, + Not ling'ring thus, with weary caution, move. + +The heavy wanderer approaches nigh, + But the drear darkness skreens him from my views +Ah, gracious heav'n! it was my Arthur's sigh, + Which the unwilling breeze so faintly blew. + +Oh speak! inform me what I have to fear! + Speak, and relieve my doubting, trembling heart! +To thy Albina, with a tongue sincere, + A portion of thy wretchedness impart!" + +"Sweet maid," replied the wounded, dying youth, + In accents mournful, tremulous and slow, +"Yes, I will ever answer thee with truth, + While yet the feeble tide of life shall flow. + +We made the haughty Roman chiefs retire, + The tow'ring, sacrilegious eagle[5] flew; +Our bosoms swell'd with more than mortal fire, + When from the field indignant they withdrew. + +But ill bespeaks my faint and languid tongue, + The glowing beauties of that joyful sight; +Ill can my breast, with keenest torture wrung, + Dwell on the charming terrors of the fight. + +To others then I leave the envied strain, + Which shall for ages rend the British air; +Nor will thy partial ear expect, in vain, + To find the humble name of Arthur there. + +I go, while now the victory is warm, + The just reward of valour to obtain; +Soon I return, clad in a nobler form,[6] + Again to triumph, and again be slain. + +Ah! then, my dear Albina, cease to grieve, + Nor at thy lover's glorious fate repine; +For, though my present favour'd form I leave, + This constant heart shall still be only thine. + +Alas! e'en now I feel the icy hand + Of hasty death, press down my swelling heart; +E'en now I hear a sweet aerial band, + Summon thy faithful Arthur to depart. + +Let not thy tears an absent lover mourn, + Remember that he bravely, nobly died; +Remember that he quickly will return, + And claim again his lov'd, his destin'd bride." + +As thus the warrior's fainting spirits fled, + And parting life streamed forth at every vein, +His quivering lip, in whispers, softly said, + "Remember, Arthur dies to live again!" + +"Oh stay, dear youth!" the hapless maiden cries, + My best-lov'd Arthur, but one moment stay! +And close not yet those all-enlivening eyes, + So lately lighted at the torch of day. + +Ah! yet once more, that look of tender love, + Of fond regret, my Arthur, let me view! +Let one more effort thy affection, prove, + And bid me once, once more, a long adieu. + +Now, ere the moon withdraws her feeble light, + Ope yet again on me thy fading eye! +He hears not! memory has ta'en her flight, + And vanish'd with that last convulsive sigh. + +Why did I variegated wreaths prepare, + To pay the conqueror every honor due? +Or, why, with fillets, bind my flowing hair, + And tinge my arms of the bright azure hue?[7] + +Oh! must this constant bosom beat no more? + This skilful hand no more direct the spear? +Must lost Albina still her fate deplore, + And ever drop the unavailing tear? + +Must I no more that lovely face review, + Expressing each emotion of the mind? +No more repeat a sweetly sad adieu? + No more gay chaplets on his forehead bind? + +His forehead, high and fair, with martial grace, + And bold, free curls of glossy chesnut crown'd; +The full, dark eye-brow which adorn'd his face, + O'erwhelming foes with terror as he frown'd. + +His voice, though strong, harmoniously clear, + No more shall fill Albina with delight; +No more shall sooth her still-attentive ear, + And make her fancy every sorrow light. + +Farewell to love, to happiness, and joy! + Yet will I cull the summer's choicest bloom; +Funereal chaplets shall my time employ, + And wither daily on my Arthur's tomb." + +As thus she mourn'd, with bitterest woe opprest, + A ray of light illumin'd all the grove, +And a consoling voice the fair addrest, + In the soft accents of parental love. + +Though still she clasp'd her hero's valued corse, + She slowly rais'd her languid, streaming eyes, +And own'd astonishment's resistless force, + Viewing the stranger with a wild surprize. + +The form was clad in robes of purest white, + That swept with solemn dignity the ground; +Contrasting with the blackest gloom of night, + Which reign'd in awful majesty around. + +The silver beard did reverence demand,[8] + And told her that a holy bard was there, +Whose shrivell'd fingers grasp'd a flaming brand, + Which threw a lustre on the waving hair. + +His eye possess'd the brilliant fire of youth, + United with the wisdom of the sage; +And speaking, with the simple voice of truth, + He blended the solemnity of age. + +"Arise! thou loveliest of misfortune's train, + And cease these weak, desponding tears to shed; +The soft effusions of thy grief restrain, + Which serve but to disturb the peaceful dead. + +The youth you mourn, far from these scenes of woe, + To worlds of never-ending joy is flown; +Where his blest bosom with delight shall glow, + And his fair temples wear a princely crown. + +Ah then, presumptuous! question not the skies, + Nor more with vain laments his loss deplore; +Attend to this, and cease your fruitless sighs, + You soon shall meet where you can part no more."[9] + +Awe-struck, his sacred wisdom she confest, + Which pour'd sweet consolation on her mind; +She cross'd her blood-stain'd hands upon her breast, + And bow'd her humble, grateful head, resign'd. + +AUGUST 27, 1794. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 1: Alluding to the armour of the Romani.] + +[Footnote 2: The Britons fought in low chariots, which they could leave +and re-ascend at pleasure.] + +[Footnote 3: The shield being their only armour, when held out to +protect a wounded or dying friend, left them defenceless.] + +[Footnote 4: The groves were consecrated to the celebration of religious +mysteries.] + +[Footnote 5: The Roman standard.] + +[Footnote 6: The Druids are said to have preached the doctrine of +transmigration, in order to inspire their warriors with the greater +contempt of death.] + +[Footnote 7: The practice of staining themselves with blue was common +among the Britons.] + +[Footnote 8: The people, excepting the priests, shaved off all the hair +from their faces, but what grew on the upper lip.] + +[Footnote 9: This equivocal manner of speech may be supposed natural +enough in one of this order of priests, who, it is said, held a more +refined idea of a future state than they preached to the people.] + + + * * * * * + + Alas! no more that joyous morn appears + That led the tranquil hours of spotless fame; + For I have steep'd a father's couch in tears, + +SHENSTONE. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE FRATERNAL DUEL. + + +'Oh! hide me from the sun! I loath the sight! + I cannot bear his bright, obtrusive ray: +Nought is so dreadful to my gloom as light! + Nothing so dismal as the blaze of day! + +No more may I its sparkling glories view! + No more its piercing lustre meet my eye! +On night's black wings my only comfort flew; + At breath of morn I sicken and I die. + +Where can I fly? In what sequester'd clime + Does darkness ever hold her ebon reign? +Where woeful dirges measure out the time, + And endless echoes breathe the sullen strain. + +Where dreary mountains rear their low'ring heads, + To pierce the heavy and umbrageous clouds; +And where the cavern dewy moisture sheds, + And night's thick veil the guilty mourner shrouds. + +There, lost in horrors, I might vent my sighs; + To open misery myself resign; +Might snatch each torturing vision ere it flies, + And feast on prospects desolate as mine. + +Oh! let me thither quickly take my flight, + And chuse a favourite and a final seat, +In scenes which would each gentler mind affright, + But for my guilt affords a fit retreat. + +There, where no ray, no gleam of light could come, + There, and there only, could I find relief; +There might I ruminate on Edward's doom, + And lose myself in luxury of grief. + +And, as it is, though joys around me shine, + Though pleasure here erects her dazzling brow, +Wrapt in despondence, will I droop and pine, + And tears of anguish shall for ever flow. + +Oh Edward! could'st thou see this alter'd frame, + Which youthful graces lately did adorn! +Could'st thou behold, and think me still the same, + Thy once gay friend, thus hapless and forlorn? + +The cheek, so late by ruddy health embrown'd, + Now pale and faded with incessant tears; +The eye, which once elate, disdain'd the ground, + Now sunk and languid in its orb appears. + +Oh! never, never will I cease to grieve! + And sure repentance pardon may obtain! +Can woe unfeign'd incite heav'n to relieve + A wretch opprest with agonizing pain? + +Ah no! my hands are stain'd with brother's blood! + A father's curses load my sinking head! +I wish to die, but dare not pass the flood, + For there, as well as here, my hopes are fled. + +Sleep, which was meant to chase away the thought, + To lull the sound of dissonant despair, +Appears to me with added terrors fraught, + And my torn heart can find no refuge there. + +If, for a moment, I its fetters wear, + And its soft pressure these pale eyes controul, +I injur'd Emma's just reproaches hear, + Or Edward's form appals my shrinking soul. + +When in those transitory sleeps I lie, + I oft his beauteous, bleeding form review; +A mild, benignant lustre lights his eye, + As come to bid a friend a last adieu. + +I start, I shudder at his tuneful voice, + When it, in soothing whispers, meets my ear; +That sound, which oft has made my heart rejoice, + I now all-trembling and affrighted hear. + +Was it thy fault, dear, much-lamented youth + If lovely Emma did thy suit prefer? +She saw thee form'd of tenderness and truth, + And kings might glory to be lov'd by her. + +Thy native sweetness won her artless heart; + And well our different characters she knew; +Whilst thy mild looks did happiness impart, + She saw the murderer in each glance I threw. + +Yet for this, meanly, did I thee upbraid, + And basely urg'd an elder brother's right; +Then, calling impious passion to my aid, + Forc'd thee, unwilling, to the fatal fight. + +Oh! ne'er shall I forget the dreadful hour, + I sheath'd my weapon in thy noble breast; +Thy dying hand clasp'd mine, with feeble pow'r, + And to thy mangled bosom fondly prest. + +Whilst o'er thee, I, in speechless anguish hung, + Thou saw'st the wild distraction of my eye; +And, though the chills of death restrain'd thy tongue + Thy bosom heav'd a sympathetic sigh. + +With cruel tenderness my friends contriv'd, + To bear me from the drear, polluted shore; +Of every joy, of peace itself depriv'd, + Which this despairing breast shall know no more. + +Since this what frenzy has inspir'd my mind! + My tortur'd mem'ry cannot it retrace; +No relique now of former days I find, + But horrors, which e'en madness can't efface. + +My dearest brother, and my tenderest friend, + O come, and save me from this dark abyss! +Draw hence the darts which my rack'd bosom rend! + And bear me with you to the realms of bliss! + +Ah! whence that pang which smote my shuddering heart? + Where now, for refuge, can lost Anselm fly? +'Tis Death! I know him by his crimson dart! + And, am I fit? Oh heav'ns! I cannot die! + +My spirit is not form'd for rapid flight; + It cannot cut the vast expanse of air, +No, never can it reach the realms of light, + For sin, a weight immoveable, lies there!' + +Thus wretched Anselm rav'd: unhappy youth! + Though passion hurried thee so far astray, +Thy infant soul ador'd the God of Truth, + And virtue usher'd in thy vernal day. + +Oh! had he learn'd his passions to restrain, + And let cool reason in his breast preside, +His op'ning wisdom had not bloom'd in vain, + Nor had he, ere the prime of manhood, died. + +Yet, if remorse could expiate his guilt, + If the worst sufferings could the crime erase, +If tears could wash away the blood he spilt, + Then Anselm's penitence obtain'd him grace. + + +AUGUST 20, 1794. + + + +IN A LETTER to A.R.C. ON HER WISHING TO BE CALLED ANNA. + + +Forgive me, if I wound your ear, + By calling of you Nancy, +Which is the name of my sweet friend, + The other's but her fancy. + +Ah, dearest girl! how could your mind + The strange distinction frame? +The whimsical, unjust caprice, + Which robs you of your name. + +_Nancy_ agrees with what we see, + A being wild and airy; +Gay as a nymph of Flora's train, + Fantastic as a fairy. + +But _Anna's_ of a different kind, + A melancholy maid; +Boasting a sentimental soul, + In solemn pomp array'd. + +Oh ne'er will I forsake the sound, + So artless and so free! +Be what you will with all mankind. + But _Nancy_ still with me. + + + + +THE LONELY WALK, + +To W.S.B. + + +When the grey evening spreads a calm around, + Tell me, has thy bewilder'd fancy sought, +Retir'd in some sequestered spot of ground, + Rest, from the labour of eternal thought? + +When, wrapt in self, the soul enjoys repose, + The wearied brain resigns its fervent heat, +In dream-like musing every care we lose, + And wind our way with slowly-moving feet. + +Oft, to indulge the thought-exploded sig, + When, slowly wandering at the close of day, +Light emanations from th'abstracted eye, + With transient beauty in the sun-beams play, + +Thy sister seeks the solitary shade. + Her mind inhaling the aerial gloom, +Sees, not-observing, the fair landscape fade, + And sullen mist usurping day-light's room. + +Not her's the feelings which regret inspires, + When sorrows keen have made the spirits low; +Adversity has damp'd the youthful fires, + And all the tears that fall are tears of woe. + +Ah no! possessing every social bliss, + I cannot, will not at my fate repine; +Or ask for happiness excelling this, + When such a world of treasures now are mine! + +And, when the melancholy grove I seek, + Scarce can my palpitating heart controul, +While silent tears are trembling on my cheek, + The flood of pleasure swelling in my soul. + +But soon my too-elated thoughts are calm, + The tumults of the mental chaos cease; +A soft oblivion the rais'd senses charm, + And lull to a reflecting, soothing peace. + +Hail, sweet enhancements of the languid mind! + Whose calm reposes restless worldlings scorn; +But from whose aid recruited strength we find, + And waken, lively as the bird of morn. + +And thou, lov'd boy, in whose congenial breast, + I doubt not but those sentiments reside; +For we, our thoughts, our actions have confest, + As much in hearts as persons are allied; + +Hail thou, my brother! may thy steps be led + By heav'nly wisdom through this world of care, +And gain the realms for which our Saviour, bled! + Nor pain, nor lassitude await us there. + +OCTOBER 13, 1794. + + + * * * * * + +_The first Percy, who came over with William the Conqueror, married a +Saxon lady, called Emma de Port, said to have been the daughter of the +last Saxon Earl of Northumberland, whose possessions had been given to +him (Lord William de Percy) for his services_. + +_I have taken the liberty of supposing this lady to have had a +brother._ + + * * * * * + + + + +THE OUTLAW. + + +Before the fair Aurora spread + Her azure mantle o'er the skies, +While sleep its pleasing influence shed, + On grateful mortals weary eyes, + +Emerg'd from a surrounding wood, + On a bleak mountain's sullen brow, +A solitary outlaw stood, + And view'd, through mist, the world below. + +With deep regret his bosom fraught, + His arms were wreath'd in sorrow's knot[10]; +Nor seem'd he yet, by patience taught, + To bear submissively his lot. + +Hidden was each enlivening grace; + Deprest by his untimely doom; +A hectic flush o'erspread his face, + Instead of nature's florid bloom. + +Untutor'd in the school of grief, + His pining spirit spoke in sighs; +Though almost hopeless of relief, + He look'd around with eager eyes; + +And fondly bent an anxious ear, + To the slow murmuring of the breeze, +Essaying oft, in vain, to hear + A friendly step beneath the trees. + +"Delusive wish!" at last he cried, + "Why wilt thou fill my aching breast? +And thus my miseries deride, + By telling how I might be blest. + +"No kind consolers hither bend, + By sympathy to ease my care; +Here comes no ever-faithful friend, + Who yet might shield me from despair. + +"The abbey's well-known tow'r I seek, + It fades from my impassion'd eye; +The fancied outlines softly break, + And melt into the distant sky. + +"No pitying object now remains, + That I may know those scenes are near, +Where generous love and friendship reigns, + And Alwin's name may claim a tear. + +"And you, my lov'd paternal groves, + Where I no more must shew my head; +In your fair walks a stranger roves, + And treacherous Normans daily tread! + +"E'en now their presence may prophane + The halls where Herbert did reside! +E'en now may joy and gladness reign, + And Adelaide be Percy's bride. + +"Yet no! her soul, the seat of truth, + Would ne'er a second love receive! +The sacred vows of artless youth, + Her Alwin ever shall believe! + +"They still shall comfort my sad heart, + And sooth the anguish of my mind; +Shall still a cheering hope impart, + And make me somewhat more resign'd. + +"Ah! yet I hear her trembling hand, + Withdraw the bolt to set me free! +Yet hear the hasty, kind command, + My Alwin fly, and live for me! + +"No other can obtain my love! + I would for thee the world resign! +Then let thy prompt obedience prove + That thou art truly, wholly mine." + +"And ever to her promise true, + No pleasure shall her soul elate, +For, yet her constant thoughts pursue + A wretched Outlaw's hapless fate! + +"In vain proud Ranulph[11] shall upbraid, + My Adelaide is still the same! +And, for thy sake, dear, lovely maid, + I will not curse the Norman name! + +"Not, though my father's large domains, + Are plunder'd by the murderous bands; +And my Northumbria's fertile plains, + Lie wasted by their cruel hands; + +"Though, as a son, I mourn the fate + Of those, to whom my life I owe; +And hate the hearts that thus create + The dimness of severest woe; + +"Though I behold no friendly steel, + To give my Emma vengeance, drawn; +And though a brother's pangs I feel, + To know her destitute, forlorn; + +"Though, banish'd from the sight of day, + In dreary solitude I pine; +And, forc'd to feel a tyrant's sway, + Each dear paternal right resign; + +"Yet will I seal my lips; nor dare + To extricate my haughty foes: +The hateful, guilty root I spare, + Which can produce so fair a rose. + +"But thou, my heart, wilt thou be calm? + Oh! tell me, can reflection cease; +And this fond bosom, now so warm, + Be ever tranquilliz'd to peace! + +"Ah, no! a father's scornful eye + Is ever present to my view; +And tells me, Herbert dar'd to die, + Though Normans could his son subdue. + +"Each feeble plea his soul disdains, + They cannot for the fault atone; +Though, when I left Northumbria's plains, + I had not fifteen summers known. + +"And hear me, Herbert, when I swear + It was not fear that urg'd my flight; +A worthless life was not my care, + I thought but of a parent's right. + +"Then pardon that my youth comply'd, + To ease a mother's anxious fears +That, when I rather would have died, + I yielded to a sister's tears. + +"Alas! a peasant's humble shed, + Soon saw our sainted parents' death, +Who, while our hearts in anguish bled, + With pious hopes resign'd her breath. + +"When mists foretel the ev'ning near, + And clouds of chilling dew arise, +We sought the grave of her so dear, + And offer'd there our tears and sighs. + +"'Till mild reflection lent her aid, + And bade our filial sorrows cease; +The fever of our souls allay'd, + We sunk into a mournful peace. + +"My pensive bosom strove to keep + A dying mother's last request; +I let the thoughts of vengeance sleep, + And studied to make Emma blest. + +"No longer shunning of the dawn, + Or seeking the sequester'd shade, +I call'd my sister to the lawn, + And trod with her the flow'ry glade. + +"Submitting to our wayward fate, + I talk'd not of the treasures flown; +But still seem'd easy and sedate, + While pressing verdure not my own. + +"Then all I wish'd, and all I fear'd, + Was by fraternal love inspir'd; +And one, by every tie endear'd, + The only friend my soul desir'd. + +"Yet soon that pleasing calmness fled, + A Norman beauty won my heart, +Imperious love my footsteps led, + And bade all secrecy depart. + +"I own'd the splendour of my race, + Altho' a peasant's form I bore; +I fancied silence was disgrace, + And hid my sentiments no more. + +"Her father's tongue my fate decreed, + And doom'd great Herbert's son to shame; +For, tho' by love from prison freed, + I bear an outlaw's hateful name. + +"My sister no fond friend can shield, + No relative allay her grief; +For tyranny all hearts hath steel'd, + And nought can give her soul relief. + +"With ev'ry quality to charm, + A guardian will not heaven allow, +To screen thy artless youth from harm, + And, fair deserted! help thee now! + +"No aid, no comfort, can be nigh! + And shall thy brother here remain? +Has he not fortitude to fly, + And burst the heavy, servile chain? + +"Why should I linger here alone, + Unseen by every human eye? +To live unfriended and unknown, + And in this dreary desart die. + +"For now the sun-beams gild the sky, + And give the misty morning grace, +Far from the light I'm doom'd to fly, + Abandon'd by the human race. + +"But no! I'll bear suspense no more! + Too dear a price to purchase breath; +I'll seek the scenes I yet deplore, + And meet a welcome, wish'd-for, death." + +Tortur'd to frenzy, Alwin flew, + And as he left his sad retreat, +He, turning, look'd a last adieu, + And shook the dew-drops from his feet. + +His hurried steps nor press'd the ground, + Nor pointed out the path he came; +And, though so long the way he found, + Despair buoy'd up his fainting frame. + +The sun shot forth a feeble ray, + But hid his glorious orb from sight, +And the pale evening's modest grey, + Had soften'd the too-glaring light, + +When Alwin reach'd the humble cot, + That once he did with Emma share, +And, weeping, hail'd the well-known spot, + In vain, for Emma was not there. + +Repuls'd, he turn'd his languid eye, + Where Ranulph's lofty turrets rose; +And, heaving disappointment's sigh, + He sought the mansion of his foes. + +His faltering step, when there he came, + A proud, disdainful air possest; +Memory recall'd his former shame, + And indignation fill'd his breast. + +He enter'd, in his wild attire, + With hasty pace and haggard brow, +Scorn fill'd his azure eye with fire, + And gave his cheeks a deeper glow. + +A graceful knight who met his view, + Sat pleading by a lady's side; +And Alwin's jealous bosom knew + Lord Percy, and his fated bride. + +Mistaken youth! thy eyes have seen, + The persons pictur'd in thy mind; +But who is that, with pensive mien, + And forehead on her hand reclin'd? + +O'er whom Lord Ranulph fondly bends, + With sorrow seated on his brow; +While the regretting tear descends + O'er his pale cheek, in silent woe. + +"Ah! is it thus?" sad Alwin said, + The fancied bride the accents knew, +Lord Percy rais'd his drooping head, + And lovely Emma met his view. + +Then rapture and surprize prevail'd, + Each bosom felt confus'd delight; +While his return the mourner hail'd, + And thus his sorrows did requite. + +"O, dearest Alwin, now no more + My father disapproves our flame; +No longer we thy loss deplore, + Or tremble to pronounce thy name. + +"A noble friend has gain'd our cause, + And vanquish'd all his former hate; +Who, ere he own'd a lover's laws, + With generous tears had wept thy fate." + +"Yes, injur'd youth," Lord Ranulph cried, + "Thou art this day my chosen heir; +In Adelaide behold thy bride, + Thy sister's future husband, there. + +"Lord Percy, to a candid mind, + Unites a fervour like thy own; +And Emma, not to merit blind, + Refers his cause to thee alone. + +"If thou wilt grant his fond desire, + 'Twill gain a brave, a noble friend; +And the possessions of thy sire, + To his posterity descend." + +"And did my Emma stay to hear, + Her brother sanctify her choice? +Ah Percy! now you need not fear + From Alwin, a dissenting voice. + +"Blest in my love, in Emma blest, + My heart each cherish'd wish obtains; +Northumbrians, now no more opprest, + Shall own a son of Herbert reigns. + +"May ye rebuild the peasant's cot, + Exalt the woe-depressed head, +And o'er each desolated spot, + The fostering calm of quiet spread! + +"May sterne reserve and caution cease! + With lenient hand dispense your sway; +Give them the healing balm of peace, + Their wounded spirits will obey. + +"Ah! cheer their gloom! dispel their care! + The smile will soon replace the tear; +And, wedded to a Saxon fair, + The foreign lord no more appear." + +1794. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 10: "Wreathing his arms in this sad knot."--SHAKESPERE'S +TEMPEST.] + +[Footnote 11: Lord of Cumberland.] + + + + +INVITATION, + +To J.B.C. + + +Now spring appears, with beauty crown'd, +And all is light and life around, +Why comes not Jane? When friendship calls, +Why leaves she not Augusta's walls? +Where cooling zephyrs faintly blow, +Nor spread the cheering, healthful glow. +That glides through each awaken'd vein, +As skimming o'er the spacious plain, +We look around with joyous eye, +And view no boundaries but the sky. + +Already April's reign is o'er, +Her evening tints delight no more; +No more the violet scents the gale, +No more the mist o'erspreads the vale; +The lovely queen of smiles and tears, +Who gave thee birth, no more appears; +But blushing May, with brow serene, +And vestments of a livelier green, +Commands the winged choir to sing, +And with wild notes the meadows ring. + +O come! ere all the train is gone, +No more to hail thy twenty-one; +That age which higher honor shares, +And well becomes the wreath it wears. +From lassitude and cities flee, +And breathe the air of heav'n, with me. + + +MAY 5, 1795. + + + + +WRITTEN ON + +WHITSUN-MONDAY, + +1795. + + +At an open window sitting, + On this day of mirth and glee, +'Cross a flow'ry vista flitting, + Many passing forms I see. +Ah! lovely prospect, stay awhile! + And longer glad my doating eye, +With poverty's delighted smile, + And lighten'd step, as passing by; + +With labour's spruce and ruddy train, + Deck'd out in all their best array, +Who, months of toil and care disdain, + Paid by the pleasures of a day. +The village girl still let me view, + Hast'ning to the neighb'ring fair; +Her cap adorn'd with pink or blue, + And nicely smooth her glossy hair. + +With sparkling eye and smiling face, + Ting'd o'er with beauty's warmest glow; +With timid air, and Rumble grace, + With clear and undepressed brow. +Go! lovely girl, and share the day, + To thy industrious merit due; +There join the dance, or choral lay; + Thou blooming, village rose, adieu! + +And thou, O youth, so blythe and free, + Bounding swiftly o'er the plain, +Go, taste the joys of liberty, + And cheer thy spirit, happy swain! +How different to the lonely hour, + When slowly following the plough, +Self-buoyant joy forgets the pow'r, + Which warms thy gladden'd bosom now. + +If some rural prize desiring, + Or ambitious of applause, +Loud huzzas thy wishes firing, + Thy steady hand the furrow draws; +Ne'er a victor fam'd in story, + Greater praise and reverence drew, +Than thou, attir'd in humble glory, + So, guiltless conqueror, adieu! + +Oh, here a charming group appears! + A cottage family, so gay, +Whose youthful hopes, uncheck'd by fears, + In smiles of thoughtless rapture play. +Here, borne in fond, parental arms, + The infant's roving eye we view; +Boasting a thousand, thousand charms, + Endearing innocents, adieu! + +They go! no more with beating heart, + And lively, dancing step to tread; +Unwillingly will they depart, + To seek again their homely shed. +Ah! Eve, I love thy veil of grey, + Which will conceal them from my view, +For, bending home their weary way, + How sad would be our last adieu! + + + * * * * * + +_The following was suggested by reading a whimsical description, given +by Scarron, of the deformity of his person, contrasted with its former +elegance, in the Curiosities of Literature, vol. 2, page 247_. + + * * * * * + + + + +PHILEMON. + + +Ye blooming youth, possest of every grace, + Which can delight the eye, or please the ear, +Who boast a polish'd mind and faultless face, + Awhile the councils of Philemon hear! + +Let not pride lift the thoughtless head too high, + Temerity arch o'er the scornful brow, +Contemptuous glances arm the sparkling eye, + Or the high heart with self-complacence glow! + +Alas! full soon the eve of life arrives, + Though pale Disease's train approach not nigh; +Short is the summer of the happiest lives, + If no rude storm disturbs the smiling sky. + +This wretched body, bending to the earth, + Once, on the wings of health, alert and gay, +Shone forth the foremost in the train of mirth, + And cloudless skies announc'd a beauteous day. + +My parents oft, with fond complacence view'd, + The elegance of my external form; +And thought my mind with excellence endued, + Bright as my genius, as my fancy warm. + +There was a time, poor as I now appear, + I admiration met in every look; +And, harsh as now my words may grate your ear, + Each tongue was silent when Philemon spoke. + +Once could this voice make every bosom thrill, + As it pour'd forth the light or plaintive lay; +And once these fingers, with superior skill, + Upon the lute could eloquently play. + +By partial friendship sooth'd, by flattery fann'd, + I learnt with conscious grace the dance to lead, +To guide the Phaeton with careless hand, + And rule, with flowing rein, the prancing steed. + +Sick with the glory of a trifler's fame, + By folly nurtur'd, I was proud and vain; +Till Chastisement in kindest mercy came, + Though then her just decrees I dar'd arraign. + +The form that sought so late the public view, + That glow'd with transport, as the world admir'd, +Fill'd with false shame, from every eye withdrew, + And to the shades of solitude retir'd. + +Consum'd by fevers, spiritless, forlorn, + Blasted by apoplexy's dreadful rage, +My bleeding heart by keen remembrance torn, + I past my prime in premature old age. + +I heard my parent's ill-suppressed sighs, + And wish'd myself upon the peaceful bier; +I saw the anguish of their sleepless eyes, + The smile dissembled, and the secret tear. + +Oft, with a kind of gratifying woe, + I recollected every former charm, +And, with the spleen of a malicious foe, + Delighted still to keep my sorrows warm. + +"Where is the lustre of the gladsome eye, + The airy smile, the animated mien, +The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye, + So lately envied, now no longer seen. + +"I too have gloried in my waving hair, + No ringlets now remain to raise my pride; +Nor can I now lay the white forehead bare, + And push the too luxuriant locks aside." + +Thus, like a child, I sigh'd for pleasures past, + And lost my hours in a delusive dream; +But Reason op'd my blinded eyes at last, + And clear'd each mist by her refulgent beam. + +I saw futurity before me spread, + A scourge or sceptre offer'd to my view, +Alarm'd, from Folly's erring mazes fled, + And to my God with humble rev'rence drew. + +I bow'd, submissive, at the holy shrine, + His mercy with warm gratitude confest, +Which had reveal'd the spark of life divine, + That slumber'd in my earth-enamoured breast. + +Had I, as friendship and self-love desir'd, + Still suck'd delirium at the fane of praise, +I might, my conscience lull'd and passions fir'd, + Have lost my soul in the bewitching blaze. + +Dear rising train, let not my words offend! + Nor the pure dictates of my love despise; +To one, late like yourselves, attention lend, + And, taught by his experience, be wise! + +Ah! banish from your eye the fiend Disdain; + Let fair simplicity supply its place; +Nor longer let conceit the bosom stain; + The child of weakness, follow'd by disgrace. + +Should time from you each glowing beauty wrest, + You will not then those self-reproaches feel, +Which every eye awaken'd in my breast, + And twenty winters scarce suffic'd to heel. + +Nor will your friends observe each faded charm, + Since still your countenance its smile retains, +And the same lov'd companion, kind and warm, + With unassuming manners, yet remains. + + +SEPT. 8, 1795. + + + + +ON A FAN. + + +Now I've painted these flowers, say what can I do, +To render them worthy acceptance from you? +I know of no sybil, whose wonderful art +Could to them superior virtues impart, +Who, of magical influence wonders could tell, +And, who over each blossom could mutter a spell. + +You only the humbler enchantments can prove, +That arise from esteem, from respect, and from love; +With such I assail you, and pow'rful the charm, +When applied to a heart sympathetic and warm; +To a heart such as that, which, if right I divine, +O C--ll--n--n! dwells in that bosom of thine. + +NOV. 10, 1795. + + + + +TO SIMPLICITY. + + +Fair village nymph, ah! may I meet + Thy pleasing form where'er I stray! +With open air and converse sweet, + Still cheer my undiscover'd way! + +With eyes, that shew the placid mind, + And with no feign'd emotions roll; +With mien, that sprightly or resign'd, + Bespeaks the temper of the soul. + +With smiles, where not the lips alone + Receive a brighter, vermil hue, +The cheek does warmer roses own, + And the eyes beam, a deeper blue! + +Though Fashion's minions scorn thy pow'r, + And slight thee, 'cause in russet drest, +Yet Joy frequents thy peaceful bow'r, + And sorrow flies to thee for rest. + +The echoing laugh, the rapturous tear, + The smile of friendship, gay and free, +Delight but when they are sincere, + And given, lovely nymph, by thee. + +When my Rosina reads a tale, + Though sweet the tuneful accents flow, +No studied pathos does prevail + To bid the hearer's bosom glow; + +Her voice to sympathy resign'd, + Each different feeling can impart. +And, tell me not, we e'er can find + A modulator, like the heart! + +And Mary's locks of glossy brown, + That fall in waves, with graceful swell, +In ever-varying ringlets thrown, + The fairest curls of art excel. + +Still rob'd in innocence and ease, + Daughter of Truth, shall thou prevail, +When Affectation cannot please, + And all the spells of Fashion fail. + + +NOV. 17, 1795. + + + + +THE TERRORS OF GUILT. + + +Yon coward, with the streaming hair, +And visage, madden'd to despair, +With step convuls'd, unsettled eye, +And bosom lab'ring with a sigh, +Is _Guilt!_--Behold, he hears the name, +And starts with horror, fear, and shame! + +See! slow Suspicion by his side, + With winking, microscopic eye! +And Mystery, his muffled guide, + With fearful speech, and head awry. + +See! scowling Malice there attend, +Bold Falsehood, an apparent friend; +Avarice, repining o'er his pelf, +Mean Cunning, lover of himself; +Hatred, the son of conscious Fear, +Impatient Envy, with a fiend-like sneer, +And shades of blasted Hopes, which still are hovering near! + +All other woes will find relief, +And time alleviate every grief; +Memory, though slowly, will decay, +And Sorrow's empire pass away. +Awhile Misfortune may controul, +And Fain oppress the virtuous soul, +Yet Innocence can still beguile +The patient sufferer of a smile, +The beams of Hope may still dispense +A grateful feeling to the sense; +Friendship may cast her arms around, +And with fond tears embalm the wound, +Or Piety's soft incense rise, +And waft reflection to the skies; +But those fell pangs which he endures, +Nor Time forgets, nor Kindness cures; +Like Ocean's waves, they still return, +Like Etna's fires, forever burn. + +Hound him no genial zephyrs fly, +No fair horizon glads his eye, +No joys to him does Nature yield, +The solemn grove, or laughing field; +Though both with loud rejoicings ring, +No pleasure does the echo bring, +Not bubbling waters as they roll, +Can tranquillize his bursting soul, +For Conscience still, with tingling smart, +Asserts his empire o'er his heart, +And even when his eye-lids close, +With clamourous scream affrights repose. + +Oppress'd with light, he seeks to shun +The splendid glories of the sun; +The busy crowds that hover near, +Torment his eye, distract his ear; +He hastens to the secret shades, +Where not a ray the gloom pervades; +Where Contemplation may retreat, +And Silence take his mossy seat; +Yet even there no peace he knows, +His fev'rish blood, no calmer flows; +Some hid assassins 'vengeful knife, +Is rais'd to end his wretched life. +He shudders, starts, and stares around, +With breathless fright, to catch the fancied sound; +Seeks for the dagger in his breast, +And gripes it 'neath his ruffled vest. + +Lo! now he plunges in the flood, +To cleanse his garments, stain'd with blood, +His sanguine arm, in terror, laves; +But ah! its hue defies the waves. +Deprest, bewildered, thence he flies, +And, to avoid Detection, tries, +Who, frowning, still before him stands, +The sword of Justice in her hands; +Abhorrent Scorn, unpitying Shame, +And Punishments without a name, +Still on her sounding steps attend, +And every added horror lend. +He turns away, with dread and fear, +But the fell spectres still are near. +Though Falsehood's mazes see him wind! +Yet Infamy is close behind, +Lifting her horn, with horrors fraught, +Whose hideous yell is frenzy to the thought. + +Now, maniac-like, he comes again, +And mixes with the jocund train; +But still those eyes that wildly roll, +Bespeak the tempest in his soul. +In yon deep cave he strives to rest, +But Mem'ry harrows up his breast; +He clasps the goblet, foe to Care, +And lo! Distraction hovers there. + +Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to know, +The sad varieties of woe; +Where'er thy footsteps turn, to meet, +An earthquake yawning at thy feet, +While o'er thy head pale meteors glare, +And boding tempests fill the air, +In throbbing anguish doom'd to roam, +Yet never find a peaceful home. +Haste! to the shrine of Mercy hie, +There lift the penitential eye, +With breaking heart thy sins deplore, +And wound Integrity no more! +Repentance then thy soul shall save, +And snatch thee, ransom'd, from the grave. + +JULY 1796. + + + * * * * * + +_The death of Selred, last King of the East-Saxons, reduced that part +of the Heptarchy to dependance on Mercia. The rest is imaginary_. + + * * * * * + + + + +CEN'LIN, PRINCE OF MERCIA. + + +When Britain many chiefs obey'd, +And seven Saxon princes sway'd, +The Mercian monarch, fam'd afar, +In peace respected, fear'd in war, +Favour'd by heav'n above the rest, +In his brave son was fully blest; +For none like Cen'lin did arise, +So virtuous, elegant, and wise. + +Of partial Mercian eyes the joy, +His parents idoliz'd the boy; +Saw with just pride each op'ning grace, +His charms of mind, of form, and face. +And as he oft, with modest air, +His thoughts and feelings did declare, +His father would delighted hear, +Would fondly drop the grateful tear; +And proudly cast his eyes around, +But not an equal could be found. +Warm from each lip applauses broke, +And every tongue his praises spoke; +The list'ning courtiers spread his fame, +And blessings follow'd Cen'lins name. + +Now twenty summer's suns had flown, +And Mercia's hopes were fully blown; +When ah! conceal'd in coarse disguise, +To Selred's[12] court their darling flies. +Selred, his father's scorn and hate, +Became the ruler of his fate. +There flatter'd, lov'd, the youth remain'd, +Till Cenulph's threats his heir regain'd. +But ah! no more the son of mirth, +His pensive eye now sought the earth; +No more within the dance to move, +Or list to sages, did he love; +But from surrounding friends would fly, +To pour in solitude the sigh. +And soon again the youth withdrew, +Again to th' Eastern-Saxons flew. +His father heard, opprest with woe, +His aged heart forgot to glow; +He learnt his foes an army led, +With youthful Cen'lin at their head, +He call'd his warriors forth to meet, +And stretch the rebel at hit feet: +Tears from his eyes in anguish broke, +As thus the aged monarch spoke: + +"Ye Mercians, let your banners fly! +The graceless youth this day shall die! +For, since he dares an army bring +Against his father and his king, +Though dear as life, I will not spare, +Nor listen to affection's pray'r! +If all my people should implore, +I'll pardon the rash boy no more! +His harden'd heart, to duty blind, +No ties of gratitude can bind; +This hoary head would else have rest, +And pleasure warm this aching breast. +Ah, cruel youth! thy wrongs I feel, +More deep than wounds of pointed steel. +For, if forlorn the parent's doom, +Who bears his offspring to the tomb, +Some comfort still his breast may know, +Some soothing thought may calm his woe, +And when he gives a loose to pain, +He feels not that he mourns in vain, +But fancies still his darling nigh, +And grateful for each bursting sigh, +Still bending o'er, with list'ning ear, +Each weeping, fond complaint to hear, +The dear-lov'd phantom hovers round, +And pours a balm in every wound. + +"How doubly poignant is my smart, +Bereaved of my Cen'lin's heart! +Exil'd from that deluded breast, +Where I had fondly hop'd to rest, +With faith undoubting, sweet repose, +Till Death should bid my eye-lids close. +And sometimes yet will hope arise; +Till now he ever scorn'd disguise; +Some cursed fiend might taint his youth, +And warp a temper form'd for truth. +When late he humbly knelt for grace, +And clasp'd my knees in close embrace, +Upon his lips a secret hung, +But something seem'd to stay his tongue; +I prest not, for my anger slept, +And fondness only saw he wept; +Ah! fatal haste! then had I known +The serpent, I had sav'd my son! +Yet surely pardon frank as mine, +A noble heart would more confine! +When leaguing with my bitter foe, +To strike some grand, decisive blow; +Perhaps to rob me of my throne, +And make it, ere the time, his own; +Or, should wan guilt a danger dread, +To humble this devoted head, +Each throbbing pang of conscience drown, +And seize, with bloody hands, the crown. +O'er this offence I cast a veil, +And fondly hush'd the whisper'd tale. +Ah fool! deluded by the grace, +Of that fine form, and perfect face; +I thought his bosom free from sin, +Nor dreamt a demon lurk'd within. +His voice, which ever could controul, +Each passion of the hearer's soul, +With ease my partial heart beguil'd, +Who knew no sorrows when he smil'd. +And ah! my friends, your downcast eyes, +Your pensive air, and smother'd sighs, +All tell me you lament the fate, +Of him, whom yet you cannot hate. +And shall I bear then to behold, +That form inanimate and cold, +His smiling lips depriv'd of breath, +His eyes for ever clos'd in death! +Ah no! my heart with anguish swells, +And every throbbing vein rebels. +Let sorrow weep, or anger thrill, +Yet all the parent triumphs still. + +"Oh Father! who in mercy reigns, +If thy all-ruling will ordains, +That my unhappy Cen'lin dies, +Remove the picture from my eyes! +At the same moment set us free, +Both rebel sons, my God, to thee!" +Thus did the king pour forth his pray'r, +With all the wildness of despair; +Then, stilling every rising sigh, +He calm'd the anguish of his eye, +And though within the burthen lay, +He wip'd the falling tears away. + +When lo! there comes a youthful train, +Descending swiftly to the plain, +Drest like the fairest sons of day, +In floating robes and colours gay; +No crested helmets there appear, +No glittering shield or pointed spear, +But youths with honey-suckles crown'd, +Or their fair locks with fillets bound, +Whose circling ranks and varied dyes, +Shew'd like the bow, that gilds the skies. +Whilst in the van a pair were seen, +Of peerless charms and graceful mien; +One lovely form the Mercians knew, +And gladden'd at the pleasing view, +Who, with the glow of youthful prime, +Had all the majesty of time. +And beauteous was the fair he led, +As any fabled Grecian maid; +The nymphs who tend Aurora's car, +And usher in the morning star, +Though made inhabitants of air, +Were not more elegant and fair; +Nor Dian's ever-healthful train, +When skimming o'er the spacious plain. +Had not more pure, more lively dyes, +Or brighter lustre in their eyes. + +The king, so late by woe deprest, +Felt hope reanimate his breast, +And as his Cen'lin nearer drew, +His waking hopes more vivid grew. +"My friends," he cried, "will you believe, +That open mien can e'er deceive? +That blooming, form can e'er unfold, +A heart ungenerous and cold, +That melting softness of the eye, +Can harbour direst cruelty? +Ah no! a poison's baleful pow'r, +Lurks not beneath so fair a flow'r. +Nor are those youths with amber hair, +Such as fell treason would prepare, +An aged monarch to dethrone, +And hear, unmov'd, a father's groan. +Gay are their looks, no dark disguise, +Dims the mild radiance of their eyes; +No murderous thoughts their souls employ, +But, heralds of transporting joy, +They come to bid suspicion cease, +And sooth my sorrow into peace." +Caution could scarce awhile controul +The strong delights of Cenulph's soul, +When Cen'lin knelt, and by his side +Half-kneeling, bent his lovely bride. +But, when he first essay'd to speak, +A hasty blush pass'd o'er his cheek, +He hung awhile his graceful head, +Till thus, with air confus'd he said: +"I come, by love with honours crown'd, +Yet sorrow casts a shade around, +That when my consort here I bring, +The heiress of a potent king, +The Mercians, clad in armour, come, +To lead their princess to her home. +No joyful hail our nuptial greets, +No proof of love my Ela meets, +But scarlet banners, waving high, +The bridal knot and wreath supply. +Alas! I see mistrust has won +E'en Cenulph's fondness from his son; +Or could my ever-honour'd sire, +A proof of Cen'lin's faith require? +Can force so needful now appear, +To aid a pow'r which I revere? +When eager beauty's form to view, +I first to Selred's court withdrew, +A single wish thy pow'r maintain'd, +A single wish thy son regain'd. +I left the maid whose matchless charms, +Each rooted prejudice disarms, +Who rul'd my heart with sovereign sway, +And taught a Mercian to obey +Laws that East-Saxons can impart, +When wit and beauty string the dart; +Left her when hope my doubts beguil'd, +And on our love her father smil'd. +Oft have I tried to win thine ear, +The fond, romantic tale to hear, +But when I found a lonely hour, +My coward soul has lost the pow'r; +As on my lips the accents hung, +Thy hate to Selred check'd my tongue. +Yet flattering hopes my passion fed, +And from thy court again I fled; +I thought when you my fair beheld, +And knew how greatly she excell'd, +In every charm, each art refin'd, +And virtue of the female mind, +Thy judgment would approve my choice, +And bless it with a cheerful voice. +And ah! though fortune did combine +With love, in making Ela mine, +I cannot from a grief refrain, +Remembering that I gave thee pain. +Yet if thy Cen'lin e'er could please, +If e'er my cares could give thee ease, +Let mild affection now arise, +And beam forgiveness from thine eyes! +No more thy son shall make thee know +A pain, or give thee cause of woe. +No nights the Mercians have to fear, +For all I love is center'd here," +He spoke, and o'er his father's soul, +A stream of healing comfort stole; +He rose, with slow, majestic grace, +Tears of delight adorn'd his face, +His pious heart with rapture glow'd, +And joy a second youth bestow'd. + +"To meet thee thus, my son," he cried, +"This peerless maiden for your bride, +Bids each distressing thought depart, +And joy again possess my heart. +Fair princess, thine the happy fate, +To heal the wounds of mutual hate; +No longer shall this bosom know, +An Eastern-Saxon as my foe; +And she, who bids that passion rest, +Doubt not, shall be supremely blest; +The part is holy and benign, +Befitting such a form as thine. +This day, far dearer than before, +Kind heav'n does twice my son restore, +For by those speaking looks I see, +Another valued child in thee." + +As then he raised them to his breast, +Around the joyful Mercians prest, +And made their shouts of triumph rise, +To the fair concave of the skies. + +OCTOBER 1795. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 12: King of the East-Saxons.] + + + + +RHAPSODY. + + +Lo! here a cloud comes sailing, richly clad +In royal purple, which the parting beams +Of bounteous Phoebus edge with tints of gold +And lucid crimson. One might fancy it +A noble bird, that laves its graceful form, +And bathes its rosy bosom in the light. +Look! how it swells and rears its snowy crest +With haughty grandeur; while the blue expanse, +In smiling patience lets the boaster pass, +And swell his train with all the lazy vapours +That hover in the air: an easy prey +To the gigantic phantom, whose curl'd wing, +Sweeps in these worthless triflers of the sky, +And wraps them in his bosom. Go, vain shadow! +Sick with the burthen of thy fancied greatness, +A breath of zephyr wafts thee into nothing, +Scatters thy spreading plumes, uncrowns thy front, +And drives thee downward to thy mother earth, +To mix with vapour and dissolve in dew. + +Such are the dreams of hope, which to the eye +Of youthful inexperience, seem to touch +The pure, unclouded sky of certainty. +Buoy'd up by the fond eloquence of thought, +And nurtur'd by the smile of vanity, +Each hour the air-born vision gathers bulk, +And Fancy decks it with a thousand hues, +Varied and wild, till it abounds in charms +Which sink the soul to sadness, when the breath +Of gentle Reason breaks the beauteous bubble, +And leaves us nought but vain regret behind. + + +FEBRUARY 1, 1797. + + + + +HUMAN PLEASURE OR PAIN. + + +When clouds and rain deform the sky, + And light'nings glare around, +Amidst the dreary, cheerless scene, + Some comfort may be found. + +There will, at some far-distant spot, + A streak of light appear, +Or, when the sullen vapours break, + The ether will be clear. + +And if the sun illumes the east, + And sheds his gladsome ray, +Some boding mist, or passing cloud + Will threat the rising day. + +The heart rejoicing in the view, + And dancing with delight, +Oft feels the touch of palsied fear, + And sinks at thought of night. + +So Hope's bright torch more clearly shines, + Amidst surrounding gloom, +And, beldame Fortune vainly throws + Her mantle o'er the tomb. + + +MARCH 15,1797. + + + + +THE COMPLAINT OF FANCY. + +To A.R.C. + + +As, musing, late I sat reclin'd, +And waking dreams absorb'd my mind, +A damsel came, of various dyes, +Like painted Iris from the skies; +A purfled saffron was her vest, +And sweet gum-cistus form'd her crest; +In many a playful ring, her hair +Flew light and flossy in the air; +The mantle, blue and gold, she wore, +A rose of opals held before, +While, graceful in her fairy hand, +Appear'd a crimson-tufted wand, +Whose shade on every object threw +A glowing tint of roseate hue. + +"Whence art thou, blooming nymph?" I cried, +And thus a tuneful voice replied: +"Men call me Fancy; at my shrine +Myriads confess my power divine; +There painters bend the willing knee, +And laurell'd poets sue to me: +For mine is every vivid ray, +Which partial Nature gave the day; +And, to the music of my song, +A thousand nameless charms belong. + +"The friend of Happiness, I dwell +Belov'd alike in court or cell; +Where Glory lifts her ardent eye, +With hasty, kindred zeal I fly, +In sun-beams place the hero's form, +And bid his arm command the storm; +On swelling clouds an altar raise, +And fan the tow'ring flame of praise. + +"Oft, from the lorn enthusiast's lyre, +My fingers strike etherial fire, +And give to sounds of piercing woe, +Extatic rapture's fervent glow. +Oft sooth the maniac's throbbing vein, +And grace her simple, wilder'd strain; +The tribe of Pain in fetters keep, +Lull wounded Memory to sleep, +And, in the mind of gloomy Care, +Bid Thought an angel's semblance wear. + +"Dear to each blest aerial pow'r, +E'en Wisdom calls me to her bow'r; +My songs her leisure hours beguile, +And teach her holy lip to smile. +And, when the Muse, with thoughtful care, +Has woven chaplets for her hair, +I let her, with her myrtles, twine, +Full many a fragrant rose of mine. + +"Then why, since all the wise and gay, +To me a grateful homage pay, +Since I to all my hand extend, +And, liberal, every heart befriend, +Does Nancy from the croud retire, +And rend my blossoms from her lyre? +Though every string the loss bewail, +And tones of mellow sweetness fail, +Which us'd to charm the pensive ear, +When list'ning Friendship bent to hear. + +"Tell her I wish not to intrude +Upon her sacred solitude, +Nor cast my undulating chain, +Around her glowing heart again; +No! every claim I now resign, +Yet let some small regard be mine; +Let one, who nurs'd her infant years, +And wip'd away some bitter tears, +Still animate the scenes around, +And make her tread on fairy ground; +Give playful sweetness to each lay, +And decorate the passing day. + +"Tell her, if now she scorns my strain, +She may invoke my name in vain; +In vain my proffered aid implore, +Contemn'd, I hardly pardon more." + +She said, and springing from the earth, +Attending found her suitor Mirth, +Who caught her hand, with lively air, +And plac'd her in his silver chair, +Which through the yielding ether flew, +And quickly bore them from my view. + + + + +ON THE EVE OF DEPARTURE FROM O---- + + +Loud beats the rain! The hollow, groan + Of rushing winds I hear, +That with a deep and sullen moan, + Pass slowly by the ear. + +Soon will my dying fire refuse + To yield a cheerful ray, +Yet, shivering still I sit and muse + The latest spark away. + +Ah, what a night! the chilly air + Bids comfort hence depart, +While sad repining's clammy wings + Cling icy, to my heart. + +To-morrow's dawn may fair arise, + And lovely to the view; +The sun with radiance gild the skies, + Yet then--I say adieu! + +Oh, stay, dear Night, with cautious care, + And lingering footsteps move, +Though day may be more soft and fair, + Not her, but thee, I love. + +Stay, wild in brow, severe in mien, + Stay! and ward off the foe; +Who, unrelenting smiles serene, + Yet tells me I must go. + +Forsake these hospitable halls, + Where Truth and Friendship dwell, +To these high towers and ancient walls, + Pronounce a long farewell. + +Alas! will Time's rapacious hand, + These golden days restore? +Or will he suffer me to taste + These golden days no more? + +Will he permit that here again, + I turn my willing feet? +That my glad eyes may here again, + The look of kindness meet? + +That here I ever may behold, + Felicity to dwell, +And often have the painful task + Of sighing out farewell? + +Ah, be it so! my fears I lose, + By hope's sweet visions fed; +And as I fly to seek repose, + She flutters round my bed. + + +NOV. 17, 1796. + + + + +TO M.I. + + +Thou, Margaret, lov'st the secret shade, + The murmuring brook, or tow'ring tree; +The village cot within the glade, + And lonely walk have charms for thee. + +To thee more dear the jasmine bow'r, + That shelt'ring, undisturb'd retreat, +Than the high canopy of pow'r, + Or Luxury's embroider'd seat. + +More sweet the early morning breeze, + Whose odours fill the rural vale, +The waving bosom of the seas, + When ruffled by the rising gale. + +Than all which pride or pomp bestow, + To grace the lofty Indian maid, +Who prizes more the diamond's glow, + Than all in humbler vest array'd. + +Sweet is the rural festive song, + Which sounds so wildly o'er the plain, +When thoughtless mirth the notes prolong, + And heart-felt pleasure pours the strain. + +Sweet is the dance where light and gay, + The village maiden trips along; +Her simple robe in careless play, + As her fleet step winds round the throng. + +Sweet is the labourer's blazing fire, + When evening shades invite to rest; +Though weary, home does joy inspire, + And social love dilates his breast. + +His rural lass with glee prepares, + The dainties fondness made her hoard; +Her husband now the banquet shares, + And children croud around the board. + +Ah! who could wish to view the air + Of listless ease and languid wealth? +Who with such pleasures could compare + The joys of innocence and health? + + +AUGUST 20, 1796. + + + + +CANTATA. DEL METASTASIO. + + +"D'atre nubi è il sol ravvolto, + Luce infausta il Ciel colora. + Pur chi sa? Quest' alma ancora + La speranza non perdè. + +Non funesta ogni tempesta + Co' naufragj all' onde il seno; + Ogni tuono, ogni baleno + Sempre un fulmine non è." + + + + +TRANSLATION. + + +Dark, mournful clouds hang o'er the sun, + Lights gleam portentous in the air, +And yet who knows? This troubled heart + Still gives not up to blank despair. + +Not big with shipwrecks every storm, + That sweeps the bosom of the main, +Nor does the threatening, turbid sky, + Always the thunder-bolt contain. + + + + +LA FORTUNA. DELLO STESSO. + + +A chi serena io miro, + Chiaro è di notte il cielo: + Torna per lui nel gelo + La terra a germogliar. + +Ma se a taluno io giro + Torbido il guardo, e fosco, + Fronde gli niega il bosco, + Onde non trova in mar. + + + + +TRANSLATION. + + +To him whom kindly I behold, + The midnight sky is clear, +And 'mid the wintry frost and cold, + The blushing flowers appear. + +But to the wretch who meets my eye, + When kindled by disdain, +The very grove will leaves deny, + And waveless be the main. + + + + +CANTATA DELLO STESSO. + + +Finchè un zeffiro soave + Tien del mar l'ira placata, + Ogni nave + È fortunata, + È felice ogni nocchier; + +È ben prova di coraggio + Incontrar l'onde funeste, + Navigar fra le tempeste, + E non perdere il sentier. + + + + +TRANSLATION. + + +Whilst zephyr sooths the angry waves + Of Ocean into rest, +Each vessel is in safety borne, + And every pilot blest. + +But he indeed demands our praise, + Who stems the tempest's force, +And midst the ire of hostile waves, + Pursues his destin'd course. + + + + +SONETTO. + +DI GIOVANNI DELLA CASA. + + +Oh sonno, oh della cheta, umida, ombrosa + Notte placido figlio; oh de' mortali + Egri conforto, oblio dolce de' mali, + Sì gravi, ond' è la vita aspra, e nojosa: +Soccorri al core omai, che langue, e posa + Non have; e queste membra stanche, e frali + Solleva: a me ten vola, oh sonno, e l'ali + Tue brune sovra me distendi, e posa. +Ov' è il silenzio, che'l dì fugge, e'l lume? + E i lievi sogni, che con non secure + Vestigia di seguirti han per costume? +Lasso, che'nvan te chiamo, e queste oscure, + E gelide ombre invan lusingo; oh piume + D'asprezza colme; oh notti acerbe, e dure! + + + + +SONNET, TO SLEEP. + +TRANSLATION. + + +Son of the silent, dark, and humid Night, + Consoler of the wretched, by whose sway +The gloomy train of ills are put to flight, + That blacken Life's uncertain, tedious day, + +O! succour now this restless, pining heart! + Give to these feeble, weary limbs repose! +Fly to me, Sleep! and let thy sombre wings + Over my couch their dusky plumes disclose! + +O! where is Silence, who avoids the light? + Where the wild dreams that flutter in thy train? +Alas! in vain I call thee, cruel Night! + And flatter these insensate shades in vain. + +And oh! without thy cheering dews are shed, +How full of hardships is the downy bed! + + + + +EDITHA. + + +Breathing the violet-scented gale, + Near to a river's limpid source, +Which, through a wide-extended vale, + Wound slowly on its sleeping course, + +Attended by a youthful pair, + With rubied lip and roving eye, +Oft would fair Editha repair, + And let her children wander nigh. + +There pleas'd behold their footsteps turn, + To each new object in their way, +Their ringlets glittering in the sun, + Their faces careless, blythe, and gay. + +Once, when they drest their flaxen hair, + With flow'rets wild of various hue, +And with a proud, exulting air, + To their delighted parent drew: + +"Ah! thus may every day arise! + And pleasure thus your hearts, pervade!" +The widow'd mother fondly cries, + "Before the youthful blossoms fade. + +"My sighs are all dispers'd in air, + Resign'd to fate, I weep no more, +Your welfare now is all my care, + Yet am I constant as before. + +"The world, because a vermil bloom, + Tinges my yet unfading cheek, +Says I forget my William's tomb, + A new and earthly love to seek. + +"Because I join the social train, + With lip that wears a kindred smile; +And a gay sonnet's lively strain, + Does oft the lonely hour beguile: + +"Because no longer now I mourn, + With sweeping robes of sable hue; +No more I clasp the marble urn, + Or vainly bid the world adieu. + +"Ah! ill my secret soul they know, + Where my lost hero still remains, +Where memory makes my bosom glow, + And binds me still in closer chains. + +"Whoe'er hath seen my William's form, + Heighten'd with every martial grace, +The ever-varying, unknown charm, + Wich beam'd in his expressive face; + +"Or heard his fine ideas try, + In Fancy's fairy garb to teach, +While the sweet language of his eye, + Excell'd the eloquence of speech, + +"Could ne'er suppose my faith would fail, + Or aught again this heart enslave; +That absence would o'er love prevail, + Or hope be bounded by the grave. + +"Could all but I his merit know? + His wit and talents see? +And is his name by all below + Remember'd, but by me? + +"No, ne'er will I the memory lose, + Though from my sight thy form is flown, +Of tenderness for other's woes, + And noble firmness in thy own. + +"No slavish fear thy soul deprest, + Of Death, or his attendant train; +For in thy pure and spotless breast, + The fear of heav'n did only reign. + +"Thus, when the still-unsated waves + Spread o'er thy head their whelming arms, +When horrid darkness reign'd around, + And lightnings flash'd their dire alarms, + +[13]"When, wing'd with death, each moment flew, + And blood the foaming ocean stain'd, +Thy courage cool, consistent, true, + Its native energy maintain'd. + +"And when the fatal moment came, + The bullet enter'd in thy side, +Only thy spirit's beauteous frame, + Its prisoner flying, droop'd and died. + +"This is it that consoles my mind, + Which to my love aspiring flies, +And makes me hope, in future days, + To hail my William in the skies. + +"Should tears from my pale eyelids steal, + I teach my children's how to flow, +And make their little bosoms feel, + Before their time, the touch, of woe. + +"I will not weep! the world shall see + That I a nobler tribute pay; +More grateful both to heaven and thee, + By guiding them in virtue's way." + +Embracing then her fondest cares, + She cast her raptur'd eyes above, +And breath'd to heav'n emphatic pray'rs, + Of mingled reverence and love. + +APRIL 15, 1795. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 13: I know not if I have expressed myself with much clearness +here, but I meant to describe a sea-fight as concisely as possible.] + + + + +TO M.I. + + +Light breezes dance along the air, + The sky in smiles is drest, +And heav'ns pure vault, serene and fair, + Pourtrays the cheerful breast. + +Each object on this moving ball + Assumes a lovely hue; +So fair good-humour brightens all + That comes within her view. + +Her presence glads the youthful train, + Reanimates the gay, +And, round her, by the couch of pain, + The light-wing'd graces play. + +Her winning mein and prompt reply, + Can sullen pride appease; +And the sweet arching of her eye + E'en apathy must please. + +To you, with whom the damsel dwells + A voluntary guest, +To you, Maria, memory tells, + This tribute is addrest. + +The feeble strains that I bequeath, + With melody o'erpay; +And let thy lov'd piano breathe + A sweet responsive lay. + +Although the mellow sounds will rise, + So distant from my ear, +The charmer Fancy, when she tries, + Can make them present here. + +Can paint thee, as with raptur'd bend, + You hail the powers of song; +When the light fingers quick descend, + And fly the notes along: + +Feel the soft chord of sadness meet, + An echo in the soul, +And waking joy the strains repeat, + When Mirth's-quick measures roll. + +This "mistress of the powerful spell," + Can every joy impart; +And ah! you doubtless know too well + How she can wring the heart. + +She rules me with despotic reign, + As now I say <I>adieu_; +And makes me feel a sort of pain, + As if I spoke to you. + + +FEB. 14, 1797. + + + + +WRITTEN IN ZIMMERMANN'S SOLITUDE. + + +Hail, melancholy sage! whose thoughtful eye, +Shrunk from the mere _spectator's_ careless gaze, +And, in retirement sought the social smile, +The heart-endearing aspect, and the voice +Of soothing tenderness, which Friendship breathes, +And which sounds far more grateful to the ear, +Than the soft notes of distant flute at eve, +Stealing across the waters: Zimmermann! +Thou draw'st not Solitude as others do, +With folded arms, with pensive, nun-like air, +And tearful eye, averted from mankind. +No! warm, benign, and cheerful, she appears +The friend of Health, of Piety, and Peace; +The kind Samaritan that heals our woes, +The nurse of Science, and, of future fame +The gentle harbinger: her meek abode +Is that dear home, which still the virtuous heart, +E'en in the witching maze of Pleasure's dance, +In wild Ambition's dream, regards with love, +And hopes, with fond security, to pass +The evening of a long-protracted day, +Serenely joyful, there. + + + + +IN MEMORY OF MR. AGOSTINO ISOLA, + +OF CAMBRIDGE, + +Who died on the 5th of June, 1797. + + +Awake, O Gratitude! nor let the tears +Of selfish Sorrow smother up thy voice, +When it should speak of a departed friend. +A tender friend, the first I ever lost! +For Destiny till now was merciful, +And though I oft have felt a transient pang, +For worth unknown, and wept awhile for those, +Whom long acquaintance only made me love, +No keen regret laid pining at my heart, +Nor Memory in the solitary hour, +Would sting with grief, as when she speaks +Thy virtue, knowledge, wisdom, gentleness, +Thy venerable age, and says that I +Had once the happiness to call thee friend. + +Yes! I once bore that title, and my heart +Thought nobler of itself, that one so good, +So honor'd, so rever'd, should give it me. +O _Isola!_ when that glad season comes, +Which brought redemption to a ruin'd world, +And, like thee, hides beneath the snow of age, +A gay, benevolent, and feeling heart, +I hop'd again to hear thy tongue repeat, +With youthful warmth and zealous energy, +Those passages, where Poetry assumes +An air divine, and wakes th' attentive soul +To holy rapture! Then you promis'd me +The luxury to weep o'er Dante's muse, +And fair Italia's loftier poets hail. + + I have often heard +That years would blunt the feelings of the soul, +And apathy ice the once-glowing heart. +Injurious prejudice! Dear, guileless friend! +Thou read'st mankind, but saw not, or forgot +Their faults and vices; for thy breast was still +The residence of sweet Simplicity, +Daughter of letter'd Wisdom, and the friend +Of Love and Pity. Happy soul, farewell! +Long shall we mourn thee! longer will it be, +"Ere we shall look upon thy like again!" + + + * * * * * + +This humble tribute to the memory of my venerated friend, was written in +the first impulse of my sorrow for his loss, and though unworthy of his +virtues, is still a small memorial of my respect for a man, on whose +tomb might justly be inscribed, as I have seen on an old monument: + + + "Heven hath his soule. + He fruits of Pietie, + This Towne his want. + Our hearts his Memorie." + + + + +TO THE NUNS OF BODNEY. + + +Ye holy women, say! will ye accept +The passing tribute of a humble friend? +Stranger indeed to you and to your faith, +But O! I hope not stranger to the zeal, +Which warm'd your bosoms in Religion's cause. +When impious men commanded you to break +The vow which bound your souls, and which in youth +Warm Piety's emphatic lips had made. +Say! will ye suffer me on that rude tomb, +Where she reposes (whose benignant smile, +Whose animated, life-inspiring eye, +And faded form, majestic, still appears +In Thought's delusive hour) to shed a tear? +On her, whose sainted look, though seen but once, +I never can forget, till Time shall wrap +The veil of Death around me, and make dumb +The voice of Memory. Ah! "how low she lies!" +No marble monument to speak her praise, +And tell the world that here a DILLON rests. +One, who in beauty's prime forsook the world, +And, _self-bereav'd_ of all it holds most dear, +Retir'd, to pass the pilgrimage of life, +In solemn prayer and peaceful solitude. +Ah, vain desire! Ambition's scowling eye +Must see the cloister, as the palace, low, +And meek-ey'd Quiet quit her last abode, +Ere he can pause to look upon the wreck, +And rue the wild impatience of his hand. + +Hail! blessed spirit! This rude cypher'd stone. +On which a sister's pensive eye shall muse +In sorrow, and another relative +In sweet, though mournful, recollection, bend, +Shall call a tear into the stranger's eye +Whene'er he hears the tale, yet make him proud +That Britain's hospitable land should yield +All that you could accept, _an humble grave_. + + + + +_Written in London, on the 19th of March, 1796._ + + +A lov'd companion, chosen friend, + Does at this hour depart, +Whom the dear name of father binds + Still closer to my heart. + +On him may joy-dispensing heav'n + Each calm delight bestow, +And eas'd of peace-destroying care + His life serenely flow! + +Did I but know his bosom calm, + And free from anxious fear, +Around me in more cheerful hues + Would every scene appear. + +And I will hope that he, who ne'er + Repin'd at heav'n's decree, +But ever patient and resign'd, + Submissive bent the knee: + +Who, best of fathers, never sought + For arbitrary sway, +But free within each youthful mind, + Bade Reason lead the way. + +Who taught us, 'stead of servile fear, + A warm esteem to prove, +And bade each act of duty spring, + From gratitude and love. + +Yes, I must hope that generous mind + With many cares opprest, +Shall in the winter of his days + With sweet repose be blest. + + + * * * * * + +_A friend, a year or two ago, gave me_ Joseph's Reconciliation with +his Brethren, _as a subject to write upon; but I was afraid of not +treating it in such a manner as a sacred story deserved, and gave up +the attempt, when I had written little more than the following lines, +to account for their not knowing him, although he well remembered them; +and am persuaded to let them appear here_. + + * * * * * + + + + +FRAGMENT. + + + * * * * * + +They, ere he left them, had attain'd their prime +And were less alter'd by the hand of Time; +But, the slim youth no longer met their view, +Fair, as the fancy e'er a seraph drew. +Who still, upborne by joy, in smiles was found, +With step elate that scarcely press'd the ground. +Before a grief had raz'd his youthful breast, +Or care had robb'd his brilliant eyes of rest. +When lofty visions swam before his sight, +And dreams of empire wrapt his soul at night. +Whose hair luxuriant flow'd in glossy pride, +And, from his snowy forehead, wav'd aside; +Which, vein'd with purest azure, rose serene, +And threw complacence o'er a rapturous mien. +The wandering light that sparkled in his eye, +The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye, +The speaking form, by each emotion sway'd, +The voice, that softest music had convey'd, +Were now matur'd. No more the child they saw, +But one, with majesty, inspiring awe; +Whose silken locks no more in ringlets flow, +But gold and purple bind his manly brow: +No more the envied robe his limbs invest, +In all the pomp of eastern monarchs drest. +The sun of Egypt had embrown'd his face, +And time had ripen'd every youthful grace. + +As when the morn, in vivid colours gay, +And tender beauty, flies to meet the day, +Her lively tints lose their primeval hue, +The white and saffron mingle with the blue, +A glowing blush o'er the whole ether reigns, +But not a cloud its genuine tint retains. + + * * * * * + + + + +FRAGMENT. + + +Where yonder mossy ruins lie, +And desolation strikes the eye, +A noble mansion, high and fair, +Once rear'd its turrets in the air. +There infant warriors drew their breath, +And learn'd to scorn the fear of death. +In halls where martial trophies hung, +They listen'd while the minstrels sung, +Of pain and glory, toil and care, +And all the horrid charms of war: +There caught the fond desire of fame, +And panted for a hero's name. +Alas! too oft in youthful bloom, +Renown has crown'd the early tomb, +Has pierc'd the widow's bosom deep, +And taught the mother's eyes to weep. +She, on whose tale the stripling hung, +While pride and sorrow rul'd her tongue. +His father's gallant acts to tell, +How bold he fought, how bravely fell. + +Methinks e'en now I hear her speak, +I see the tear upon her cheek; +The musing boy's abstracted brow, +And the high-arching eye below. +The stifled sigh and anxious heave, +The kindling heart which dares not grieve; +The finely-elevated head, +The hand upon the bosom spread, +Proclaim him wrought by potent charms, +And speak his very soul in arms. + +Incautious zeal! what hast thou done? +The tale has robb'd thee of thy son. +And while thy pious tears deplore, +The loss of him who lives no more, +Ambition wakes her restless fire, +The boy will emulate his sire, + + * * * * * + + + + +_Written April the 18th, 1796_ + + +The beauteous queen of social love, +Descending from the realms above, +Through the wide space of ether flew, +With care this little world to view, +Till, tir'd with wandering, at the last, +Through every different climate past, +She sought not out a splendid dome, +But made this humble cot her home. + +The sweetest lyre would strive in vain, +To sing the pleasures of her reign, +Whose powerful influence does impart, +New softness to the feeling heart, +Bids it each narrow thought resign, +And fills it with a warmth benign. + +From morning till the close of day, +Here all a grateful homage pay, +For here she plays her harmless wiles, +And scatters her endearing smiles; +Here no proud rivals intervene, +And all, though glowing, is serene. +Here, since she first her visit paid, +Still has the sweet enchantress staid, +And never met a single slight, +Or spread her snowy plumes for flight. + +Contented 'neath the humble roof; +No timid heart is kept aloof; +A kind and condescending guest, +She lightens each despairing breast; +Where pain her poignant venom spreads, +The balm of tenderness she sheds, +Which breathes a calm repose around, +And heals at last the burning wound. + +When the heart throbs with bitter woe, +Her winning mien disarms the foe, +And the kind glances of her eye, +Force the desponding power to fly. +She gives a zest to every joy, +Forbids tranquillity to cloy, +Softens misfortune, chases fear, +And balm distills in every tear. +'Tis she alone can make us know, +A truly blissful hour below, +Can smooth the furrow'd brow of life, +And hush the thundering voice of strife. + +O, may she still exert her power, +Still lead us to the rural bower, +Which vaunting Pride does ne'er disgrace, +Or critic Envy's spiteful face. +Here Raymond ever shall delight, +To sit and watch the closing night; +And open-hearted Gertrude here, +With her sweet infant shall appear. +Here oft her brother shall prepare, +A wreath for Mary's curling hair; +While soft-voic'd Anna, fond of play, +And all the train, alert and gay, +In healthful games shall frolic round, +And revel on the mossy ground. + +Here Edmund shall forget his care, +And often fill an elbow chair; +While Sophia, friendly and sincere, +Shall ever find a welcome here. + +Yet would my hovering fancy trace, +The features of each happy face; +And sympathy informs my mind, +That they the same emotions find; +That in each scene of harmless glee, +Memory recalls the absent three: +And all, though distance strives to part, +Will hold communion in the heart. + + + +FINIS. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Elegies and Other Small Poems, by Matilda Betham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELEGIES AND OTHER SMALL POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 11193-8.txt or 11193-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/1/9/11193/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/old/11193-8.zip b/old/old/11193-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d50a83 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/11193-8.zip diff --git a/old/old/11193.txt b/old/old/11193.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e4562dd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/11193.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3160 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Elegies and Other Small Poems, by Matilda Betham + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Elegies and Other Small Poems + +Author: Matilda Betham + +Release Date: February 20, 2004 [EBook #11193] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELEGIES AND OTHER SMALL POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +ELEGIES AND OTHER SMALL POEMS + +BY + +MATILDA BETHAM. + + + +_To the Hon. LADY JERNINGHAM_. + +_Madam_, + +_The many endearing instances of regard I have experienced since I had +the honor of being known to your Ladyship, while they impress my mind +with gratitude, flatter my hopes with a favourable reception of the +following miscellanies, which, under your patronage, I venture to submit +to the public_. + +_Considered as the first essays of an early period of life, and as the +exercises of leisure, my wishes suggest, that they may not, perhaps, be +found wholly unworthy of attention; but whatever be their fate with +others, I shall feel myself much gratified, if, in your Ladyship's +judgment, they may be allowed some merit_. + +_Though there cannot be a greater pleasure than dwelling on the +excellencies of a distinguished and amiable character, I know not that +it would be permitted me to indulge my present inclination with +enumerating those virtues and endowments which confessedly distinguish +your Ladyship, but my wishes I may offer, and that you may long, very +long, continue to bless your family, to adorn your rank, and console +the unhappy, is the sincere prayer of_ + +_Your Ladyship's most obliged humble servant, MATILDA BETHAM_. + +_Stonham, Nov. 20, 1797._ + + + + +TO THE READER. + + +If, in the following pages, there may be found any unacknowledged +imitations, I hope I shall not be censured as an intentional plagiarist; +for it has been my wish, however I may be esteemed presumptuous, not +to be unjust; and I sometimes fear lest an imperfect recollection of +another's idea should have appeared to me as a dawning thought of my +own. Wherever I could recollect a similar passage, although unnoticed +at the time I wrote, it has been either altered or acknowledged. + +I commit these trifles to the press with the anxiety necessarily +resulting from a desire that they may not be deemed altogether +worthless. Though the natural partiality of the writer may be somewhat +strengthened by the commendations of friends and parents, I am well +aware that no apology can give currency to imperfection. + +I have not vainly attempted to ascend to the steeps of Parnassus. If, +wandering at its foot, I have mistaken perishable shrubs for never-dying +flowers, the errors of a youthful mind, first viewing the fascinating +regions of fancy, will not be rigidly condemned; for wherever there +is true taste, there will be genuine candour. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + To ----, with Arthur and Albina + Arthur and Albina + The Fraternal Duel + Lines in a Letter to A.R.C. + The Lonely Walk + The Outlaw + Invitation + Whitsun-Monday + Philemon + On a Fan + To Simplicity + The Terrors of Guilt + Cen'lin, Prince of Mercia + Rhapsody + Human Pleasure or Pain + The Complaint of Fancy + On the Eve of Departure from O---- + To M.I. + Translation from Metastasio + ---------- from Della Casa + Editha + To M.I. + Written in Zimmerman's Solitude + To the Memory of Mr. Agostino Isola + To the Nuns of Bodney + Written in London + Fragment + Fragment + Written April 18, 1796. + + + + +To ---- WITH ARTHUR and ALBINA. + +1794. + + +Ah! if your eye should e'er these lines survey, +Dismiss from thence its penetrating ray: +Let Criticism then her distance keep, +And dreaded Justice then be lull'd to sleep; +For, let whatever sentence be their due, +I feel I cannot censure bear from you. + + + * * * * * + +_A British Maid awaits the arrival of her lover from the battle, on a +hill, where, at its commencement, she had retired to make vows to heaven +for his success.--Evening_. + + * * * * * + + + + +ARTHUR and ALBINA. + + +Ah me! the yellow western sky turns pale, + And leaves the cheerless sons of earth to mourn; +And yet I hear net in the silent vale, + A sound to tell me Arthur does return. + +Ah, haste ye hours! quick plume the loit'ring wing! + Bring back my hero, crown'd with glorious spoils! +Let bards on lofty harps his triumphs sing, + And loud applause repay successful toils! + +Reward the flame, ye great celestial pow'rs, + The noble flame that in his bosom glows! +Inspire him, Druids, from your holy bow'rs, + With strength to conquer iron-breasted foes![1] + +With heighten'd vigour brace his nervous arm, + And let his lance with ten-fold fury fly, +Make him terrific by some potent charm, + And add new lightening to his piercing eye! + +Then may my lover gain unrivall'd fame, + The Roman banners may less proudly flow, +Then he may humble their detested name, + And their high plumes wave o'er' a British brow! + +Then may his chariot,[2] wheeling o'er the plain, + Hurl death and desolation all around, +While his intrepid front appals their train, + And make our proud invaders bite the ground! + +But yet I hear no lively foot advance; + No sound of triumph greets my list'ning ear!' +And I may carve this eagle-darting lance + For one, whose voice I never more shall hear! + +Perhaps my vows have never reach'd the skies, + Nor heav'n, propitious, smil'd upon my pray'r; +And ah! to morrow's crimson dawn may rise + To plunge me in the horrors of despair! + +Yet well he knows the dreadful spear to wield-- + Alas! their fearful limbs are fenc'd with care: +And, what can valour, when th'extended shield[3] + May leave, so oft, his gen'rous bosom bare? + +Say, reverend Druids, can you bless in vain? + Can you in vain extend your spotless hands? +Will not heav'n listen when its priests complain, + And save its altars from unhallow'd bands? + +Oh yes! I'll fear no more! The sacred groves,[4] + That rear their untouch'd branches to the skies; +Beneath whose shade its chosen servant roves, + Hidden from weak, unconsecrated eyes: + +Beneath whose shade the choral bards rehearse, + Piercing, with uprais'd eyes, each mist that shrouds, +And, listening, catch the heav'n-dictated verse, + By airs etherial wailed from the clouds: + +It ne'er can be--but hark! I hear the sound + Of some one's step; yet not the youth I love; +He would have flown, and scarcely touch'd the ground, + Not ling'ring thus, with weary caution, move. + +The heavy wanderer approaches nigh, + But the drear darkness skreens him from my views +Ah, gracious heav'n! it was my Arthur's sigh, + Which the unwilling breeze so faintly blew. + +Oh speak! inform me what I have to fear! + Speak, and relieve my doubting, trembling heart! +To thy Albina, with a tongue sincere, + A portion of thy wretchedness impart!" + +"Sweet maid," replied the wounded, dying youth, + In accents mournful, tremulous and slow, +"Yes, I will ever answer thee with truth, + While yet the feeble tide of life shall flow. + +We made the haughty Roman chiefs retire, + The tow'ring, sacrilegious eagle[5] flew; +Our bosoms swell'd with more than mortal fire, + When from the field indignant they withdrew. + +But ill bespeaks my faint and languid tongue, + The glowing beauties of that joyful sight; +Ill can my breast, with keenest torture wrung, + Dwell on the charming terrors of the fight. + +To others then I leave the envied strain, + Which shall for ages rend the British air; +Nor will thy partial ear expect, in vain, + To find the humble name of Arthur there. + +I go, while now the victory is warm, + The just reward of valour to obtain; +Soon I return, clad in a nobler form,[6] + Again to triumph, and again be slain. + +Ah! then, my dear Albina, cease to grieve, + Nor at thy lover's glorious fate repine; +For, though my present favour'd form I leave, + This constant heart shall still be only thine. + +Alas! e'en now I feel the icy hand + Of hasty death, press down my swelling heart; +E'en now I hear a sweet aerial band, + Summon thy faithful Arthur to depart. + +Let not thy tears an absent lover mourn, + Remember that he bravely, nobly died; +Remember that he quickly will return, + And claim again his lov'd, his destin'd bride." + +As thus the warrior's fainting spirits fled, + And parting life streamed forth at every vein, +His quivering lip, in whispers, softly said, + "Remember, Arthur dies to live again!" + +"Oh stay, dear youth!" the hapless maiden cries, + My best-lov'd Arthur, but one moment stay! +And close not yet those all-enlivening eyes, + So lately lighted at the torch of day. + +Ah! yet once more, that look of tender love, + Of fond regret, my Arthur, let me view! +Let one more effort thy affection, prove, + And bid me once, once more, a long adieu. + +Now, ere the moon withdraws her feeble light, + Ope yet again on me thy fading eye! +He hears not! memory has ta'en her flight, + And vanish'd with that last convulsive sigh. + +Why did I variegated wreaths prepare, + To pay the conqueror every honor due? +Or, why, with fillets, bind my flowing hair, + And tinge my arms of the bright azure hue?[7] + +Oh! must this constant bosom beat no more? + This skilful hand no more direct the spear? +Must lost Albina still her fate deplore, + And ever drop the unavailing tear? + +Must I no more that lovely face review, + Expressing each emotion of the mind? +No more repeat a sweetly sad adieu? + No more gay chaplets on his forehead bind? + +His forehead, high and fair, with martial grace, + And bold, free curls of glossy chesnut crown'd; +The full, dark eye-brow which adorn'd his face, + O'erwhelming foes with terror as he frown'd. + +His voice, though strong, harmoniously clear, + No more shall fill Albina with delight; +No more shall sooth her still-attentive ear, + And make her fancy every sorrow light. + +Farewell to love, to happiness, and joy! + Yet will I cull the summer's choicest bloom; +Funereal chaplets shall my time employ, + And wither daily on my Arthur's tomb." + +As thus she mourn'd, with bitterest woe opprest, + A ray of light illumin'd all the grove, +And a consoling voice the fair addrest, + In the soft accents of parental love. + +Though still she clasp'd her hero's valued corse, + She slowly rais'd her languid, streaming eyes, +And own'd astonishment's resistless force, + Viewing the stranger with a wild surprize. + +The form was clad in robes of purest white, + That swept with solemn dignity the ground; +Contrasting with the blackest gloom of night, + Which reign'd in awful majesty around. + +The silver beard did reverence demand,[8] + And told her that a holy bard was there, +Whose shrivell'd fingers grasp'd a flaming brand, + Which threw a lustre on the waving hair. + +His eye possess'd the brilliant fire of youth, + United with the wisdom of the sage; +And speaking, with the simple voice of truth, + He blended the solemnity of age. + +"Arise! thou loveliest of misfortune's train, + And cease these weak, desponding tears to shed; +The soft effusions of thy grief restrain, + Which serve but to disturb the peaceful dead. + +The youth you mourn, far from these scenes of woe, + To worlds of never-ending joy is flown; +Where his blest bosom with delight shall glow, + And his fair temples wear a princely crown. + +Ah then, presumptuous! question not the skies, + Nor more with vain laments his loss deplore; +Attend to this, and cease your fruitless sighs, + You soon shall meet where you can part no more."[9] + +Awe-struck, his sacred wisdom she confest, + Which pour'd sweet consolation on her mind; +She cross'd her blood-stain'd hands upon her breast, + And bow'd her humble, grateful head, resign'd. + +AUGUST 27, 1794. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 1: Alluding to the armour of the Romani.] + +[Footnote 2: The Britons fought in low chariots, which they could leave +and re-ascend at pleasure.] + +[Footnote 3: The shield being their only armour, when held out to +protect a wounded or dying friend, left them defenceless.] + +[Footnote 4: The groves were consecrated to the celebration of religious +mysteries.] + +[Footnote 5: The Roman standard.] + +[Footnote 6: The Druids are said to have preached the doctrine of +transmigration, in order to inspire their warriors with the greater +contempt of death.] + +[Footnote 7: The practice of staining themselves with blue was common +among the Britons.] + +[Footnote 8: The people, excepting the priests, shaved off all the hair +from their faces, but what grew on the upper lip.] + +[Footnote 9: This equivocal manner of speech may be supposed natural +enough in one of this order of priests, who, it is said, held a more +refined idea of a future state than they preached to the people.] + + + * * * * * + + Alas! no more that joyous morn appears + That led the tranquil hours of spotless fame; + For I have steep'd a father's couch in tears, + +SHENSTONE. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE FRATERNAL DUEL. + + +'Oh! hide me from the sun! I loath the sight! + I cannot bear his bright, obtrusive ray: +Nought is so dreadful to my gloom as light! + Nothing so dismal as the blaze of day! + +No more may I its sparkling glories view! + No more its piercing lustre meet my eye! +On night's black wings my only comfort flew; + At breath of morn I sicken and I die. + +Where can I fly? In what sequester'd clime + Does darkness ever hold her ebon reign? +Where woeful dirges measure out the time, + And endless echoes breathe the sullen strain. + +Where dreary mountains rear their low'ring heads, + To pierce the heavy and umbrageous clouds; +And where the cavern dewy moisture sheds, + And night's thick veil the guilty mourner shrouds. + +There, lost in horrors, I might vent my sighs; + To open misery myself resign; +Might snatch each torturing vision ere it flies, + And feast on prospects desolate as mine. + +Oh! let me thither quickly take my flight, + And chuse a favourite and a final seat, +In scenes which would each gentler mind affright, + But for my guilt affords a fit retreat. + +There, where no ray, no gleam of light could come, + There, and there only, could I find relief; +There might I ruminate on Edward's doom, + And lose myself in luxury of grief. + +And, as it is, though joys around me shine, + Though pleasure here erects her dazzling brow, +Wrapt in despondence, will I droop and pine, + And tears of anguish shall for ever flow. + +Oh Edward! could'st thou see this alter'd frame, + Which youthful graces lately did adorn! +Could'st thou behold, and think me still the same, + Thy once gay friend, thus hapless and forlorn? + +The cheek, so late by ruddy health embrown'd, + Now pale and faded with incessant tears; +The eye, which once elate, disdain'd the ground, + Now sunk and languid in its orb appears. + +Oh! never, never will I cease to grieve! + And sure repentance pardon may obtain! +Can woe unfeign'd incite heav'n to relieve + A wretch opprest with agonizing pain? + +Ah no! my hands are stain'd with brother's blood! + A father's curses load my sinking head! +I wish to die, but dare not pass the flood, + For there, as well as here, my hopes are fled. + +Sleep, which was meant to chase away the thought, + To lull the sound of dissonant despair, +Appears to me with added terrors fraught, + And my torn heart can find no refuge there. + +If, for a moment, I its fetters wear, + And its soft pressure these pale eyes controul, +I injur'd Emma's just reproaches hear, + Or Edward's form appals my shrinking soul. + +When in those transitory sleeps I lie, + I oft his beauteous, bleeding form review; +A mild, benignant lustre lights his eye, + As come to bid a friend a last adieu. + +I start, I shudder at his tuneful voice, + When it, in soothing whispers, meets my ear; +That sound, which oft has made my heart rejoice, + I now all-trembling and affrighted hear. + +Was it thy fault, dear, much-lamented youth + If lovely Emma did thy suit prefer? +She saw thee form'd of tenderness and truth, + And kings might glory to be lov'd by her. + +Thy native sweetness won her artless heart; + And well our different characters she knew; +Whilst thy mild looks did happiness impart, + She saw the murderer in each glance I threw. + +Yet for this, meanly, did I thee upbraid, + And basely urg'd an elder brother's right; +Then, calling impious passion to my aid, + Forc'd thee, unwilling, to the fatal fight. + +Oh! ne'er shall I forget the dreadful hour, + I sheath'd my weapon in thy noble breast; +Thy dying hand clasp'd mine, with feeble pow'r, + And to thy mangled bosom fondly prest. + +Whilst o'er thee, I, in speechless anguish hung, + Thou saw'st the wild distraction of my eye; +And, though the chills of death restrain'd thy tongue + Thy bosom heav'd a sympathetic sigh. + +With cruel tenderness my friends contriv'd, + To bear me from the drear, polluted shore; +Of every joy, of peace itself depriv'd, + Which this despairing breast shall know no more. + +Since this what frenzy has inspir'd my mind! + My tortur'd mem'ry cannot it retrace; +No relique now of former days I find, + But horrors, which e'en madness can't efface. + +My dearest brother, and my tenderest friend, + O come, and save me from this dark abyss! +Draw hence the darts which my rack'd bosom rend! + And bear me with you to the realms of bliss! + +Ah! whence that pang which smote my shuddering heart? + Where now, for refuge, can lost Anselm fly? +'Tis Death! I know him by his crimson dart! + And, am I fit? Oh heav'ns! I cannot die! + +My spirit is not form'd for rapid flight; + It cannot cut the vast expanse of air, +No, never can it reach the realms of light, + For sin, a weight immoveable, lies there!' + +Thus wretched Anselm rav'd: unhappy youth! + Though passion hurried thee so far astray, +Thy infant soul ador'd the God of Truth, + And virtue usher'd in thy vernal day. + +Oh! had he learn'd his passions to restrain, + And let cool reason in his breast preside, +His op'ning wisdom had not bloom'd in vain, + Nor had he, ere the prime of manhood, died. + +Yet, if remorse could expiate his guilt, + If the worst sufferings could the crime erase, +If tears could wash away the blood he spilt, + Then Anselm's penitence obtain'd him grace. + + +AUGUST 20, 1794. + + + +IN A LETTER to A.R.C. ON HER WISHING TO BE CALLED ANNA. + + +Forgive me, if I wound your ear, + By calling of you Nancy, +Which is the name of my sweet friend, + The other's but her fancy. + +Ah, dearest girl! how could your mind + The strange distinction frame? +The whimsical, unjust caprice, + Which robs you of your name. + +_Nancy_ agrees with what we see, + A being wild and airy; +Gay as a nymph of Flora's train, + Fantastic as a fairy. + +But _Anna's_ of a different kind, + A melancholy maid; +Boasting a sentimental soul, + In solemn pomp array'd. + +Oh ne'er will I forsake the sound, + So artless and so free! +Be what you will with all mankind. + But _Nancy_ still with me. + + + + +THE LONELY WALK, + +To W.S.B. + + +When the grey evening spreads a calm around, + Tell me, has thy bewilder'd fancy sought, +Retir'd in some sequestered spot of ground, + Rest, from the labour of eternal thought? + +When, wrapt in self, the soul enjoys repose, + The wearied brain resigns its fervent heat, +In dream-like musing every care we lose, + And wind our way with slowly-moving feet. + +Oft, to indulge the thought-exploded sig, + When, slowly wandering at the close of day, +Light emanations from th'abstracted eye, + With transient beauty in the sun-beams play, + +Thy sister seeks the solitary shade. + Her mind inhaling the aerial gloom, +Sees, not-observing, the fair landscape fade, + And sullen mist usurping day-light's room. + +Not her's the feelings which regret inspires, + When sorrows keen have made the spirits low; +Adversity has damp'd the youthful fires, + And all the tears that fall are tears of woe. + +Ah no! possessing every social bliss, + I cannot, will not at my fate repine; +Or ask for happiness excelling this, + When such a world of treasures now are mine! + +And, when the melancholy grove I seek, + Scarce can my palpitating heart controul, +While silent tears are trembling on my cheek, + The flood of pleasure swelling in my soul. + +But soon my too-elated thoughts are calm, + The tumults of the mental chaos cease; +A soft oblivion the rais'd senses charm, + And lull to a reflecting, soothing peace. + +Hail, sweet enhancements of the languid mind! + Whose calm reposes restless worldlings scorn; +But from whose aid recruited strength we find, + And waken, lively as the bird of morn. + +And thou, lov'd boy, in whose congenial breast, + I doubt not but those sentiments reside; +For we, our thoughts, our actions have confest, + As much in hearts as persons are allied; + +Hail thou, my brother! may thy steps be led + By heav'nly wisdom through this world of care, +And gain the realms for which our Saviour, bled! + Nor pain, nor lassitude await us there. + +OCTOBER 13, 1794. + + + * * * * * + +_The first Percy, who came over with William the Conqueror, married a +Saxon lady, called Emma de Port, said to have been the daughter of the +last Saxon Earl of Northumberland, whose possessions had been given to +him (Lord William de Percy) for his services_. + +_I have taken the liberty of supposing this lady to have had a +brother._ + + * * * * * + + + + +THE OUTLAW. + + +Before the fair Aurora spread + Her azure mantle o'er the skies, +While sleep its pleasing influence shed, + On grateful mortals weary eyes, + +Emerg'd from a surrounding wood, + On a bleak mountain's sullen brow, +A solitary outlaw stood, + And view'd, through mist, the world below. + +With deep regret his bosom fraught, + His arms were wreath'd in sorrow's knot[10]; +Nor seem'd he yet, by patience taught, + To bear submissively his lot. + +Hidden was each enlivening grace; + Deprest by his untimely doom; +A hectic flush o'erspread his face, + Instead of nature's florid bloom. + +Untutor'd in the school of grief, + His pining spirit spoke in sighs; +Though almost hopeless of relief, + He look'd around with eager eyes; + +And fondly bent an anxious ear, + To the slow murmuring of the breeze, +Essaying oft, in vain, to hear + A friendly step beneath the trees. + +"Delusive wish!" at last he cried, + "Why wilt thou fill my aching breast? +And thus my miseries deride, + By telling how I might be blest. + +"No kind consolers hither bend, + By sympathy to ease my care; +Here comes no ever-faithful friend, + Who yet might shield me from despair. + +"The abbey's well-known tow'r I seek, + It fades from my impassion'd eye; +The fancied outlines softly break, + And melt into the distant sky. + +"No pitying object now remains, + That I may know those scenes are near, +Where generous love and friendship reigns, + And Alwin's name may claim a tear. + +"And you, my lov'd paternal groves, + Where I no more must shew my head; +In your fair walks a stranger roves, + And treacherous Normans daily tread! + +"E'en now their presence may prophane + The halls where Herbert did reside! +E'en now may joy and gladness reign, + And Adelaide be Percy's bride. + +"Yet no! her soul, the seat of truth, + Would ne'er a second love receive! +The sacred vows of artless youth, + Her Alwin ever shall believe! + +"They still shall comfort my sad heart, + And sooth the anguish of my mind; +Shall still a cheering hope impart, + And make me somewhat more resign'd. + +"Ah! yet I hear her trembling hand, + Withdraw the bolt to set me free! +Yet hear the hasty, kind command, + My Alwin fly, and live for me! + +"No other can obtain my love! + I would for thee the world resign! +Then let thy prompt obedience prove + That thou art truly, wholly mine." + +"And ever to her promise true, + No pleasure shall her soul elate, +For, yet her constant thoughts pursue + A wretched Outlaw's hapless fate! + +"In vain proud Ranulph[11] shall upbraid, + My Adelaide is still the same! +And, for thy sake, dear, lovely maid, + I will not curse the Norman name! + +"Not, though my father's large domains, + Are plunder'd by the murderous bands; +And my Northumbria's fertile plains, + Lie wasted by their cruel hands; + +"Though, as a son, I mourn the fate + Of those, to whom my life I owe; +And hate the hearts that thus create + The dimness of severest woe; + +"Though I behold no friendly steel, + To give my Emma vengeance, drawn; +And though a brother's pangs I feel, + To know her destitute, forlorn; + +"Though, banish'd from the sight of day, + In dreary solitude I pine; +And, forc'd to feel a tyrant's sway, + Each dear paternal right resign; + +"Yet will I seal my lips; nor dare + To extricate my haughty foes: +The hateful, guilty root I spare, + Which can produce so fair a rose. + +"But thou, my heart, wilt thou be calm? + Oh! tell me, can reflection cease; +And this fond bosom, now so warm, + Be ever tranquilliz'd to peace! + +"Ah, no! a father's scornful eye + Is ever present to my view; +And tells me, Herbert dar'd to die, + Though Normans could his son subdue. + +"Each feeble plea his soul disdains, + They cannot for the fault atone; +Though, when I left Northumbria's plains, + I had not fifteen summers known. + +"And hear me, Herbert, when I swear + It was not fear that urg'd my flight; +A worthless life was not my care, + I thought but of a parent's right. + +"Then pardon that my youth comply'd, + To ease a mother's anxious fears +That, when I rather would have died, + I yielded to a sister's tears. + +"Alas! a peasant's humble shed, + Soon saw our sainted parents' death, +Who, while our hearts in anguish bled, + With pious hopes resign'd her breath. + +"When mists foretel the ev'ning near, + And clouds of chilling dew arise, +We sought the grave of her so dear, + And offer'd there our tears and sighs. + +"'Till mild reflection lent her aid, + And bade our filial sorrows cease; +The fever of our souls allay'd, + We sunk into a mournful peace. + +"My pensive bosom strove to keep + A dying mother's last request; +I let the thoughts of vengeance sleep, + And studied to make Emma blest. + +"No longer shunning of the dawn, + Or seeking the sequester'd shade, +I call'd my sister to the lawn, + And trod with her the flow'ry glade. + +"Submitting to our wayward fate, + I talk'd not of the treasures flown; +But still seem'd easy and sedate, + While pressing verdure not my own. + +"Then all I wish'd, and all I fear'd, + Was by fraternal love inspir'd; +And one, by every tie endear'd, + The only friend my soul desir'd. + +"Yet soon that pleasing calmness fled, + A Norman beauty won my heart, +Imperious love my footsteps led, + And bade all secrecy depart. + +"I own'd the splendour of my race, + Altho' a peasant's form I bore; +I fancied silence was disgrace, + And hid my sentiments no more. + +"Her father's tongue my fate decreed, + And doom'd great Herbert's son to shame; +For, tho' by love from prison freed, + I bear an outlaw's hateful name. + +"My sister no fond friend can shield, + No relative allay her grief; +For tyranny all hearts hath steel'd, + And nought can give her soul relief. + +"With ev'ry quality to charm, + A guardian will not heaven allow, +To screen thy artless youth from harm, + And, fair deserted! help thee now! + +"No aid, no comfort, can be nigh! + And shall thy brother here remain? +Has he not fortitude to fly, + And burst the heavy, servile chain? + +"Why should I linger here alone, + Unseen by every human eye? +To live unfriended and unknown, + And in this dreary desart die. + +"For now the sun-beams gild the sky, + And give the misty morning grace, +Far from the light I'm doom'd to fly, + Abandon'd by the human race. + +"But no! I'll bear suspense no more! + Too dear a price to purchase breath; +I'll seek the scenes I yet deplore, + And meet a welcome, wish'd-for, death." + +Tortur'd to frenzy, Alwin flew, + And as he left his sad retreat, +He, turning, look'd a last adieu, + And shook the dew-drops from his feet. + +His hurried steps nor press'd the ground, + Nor pointed out the path he came; +And, though so long the way he found, + Despair buoy'd up his fainting frame. + +The sun shot forth a feeble ray, + But hid his glorious orb from sight, +And the pale evening's modest grey, + Had soften'd the too-glaring light, + +When Alwin reach'd the humble cot, + That once he did with Emma share, +And, weeping, hail'd the well-known spot, + In vain, for Emma was not there. + +Repuls'd, he turn'd his languid eye, + Where Ranulph's lofty turrets rose; +And, heaving disappointment's sigh, + He sought the mansion of his foes. + +His faltering step, when there he came, + A proud, disdainful air possest; +Memory recall'd his former shame, + And indignation fill'd his breast. + +He enter'd, in his wild attire, + With hasty pace and haggard brow, +Scorn fill'd his azure eye with fire, + And gave his cheeks a deeper glow. + +A graceful knight who met his view, + Sat pleading by a lady's side; +And Alwin's jealous bosom knew + Lord Percy, and his fated bride. + +Mistaken youth! thy eyes have seen, + The persons pictur'd in thy mind; +But who is that, with pensive mien, + And forehead on her hand reclin'd? + +O'er whom Lord Ranulph fondly bends, + With sorrow seated on his brow; +While the regretting tear descends + O'er his pale cheek, in silent woe. + +"Ah! is it thus?" sad Alwin said, + The fancied bride the accents knew, +Lord Percy rais'd his drooping head, + And lovely Emma met his view. + +Then rapture and surprize prevail'd, + Each bosom felt confus'd delight; +While his return the mourner hail'd, + And thus his sorrows did requite. + +"O, dearest Alwin, now no more + My father disapproves our flame; +No longer we thy loss deplore, + Or tremble to pronounce thy name. + +"A noble friend has gain'd our cause, + And vanquish'd all his former hate; +Who, ere he own'd a lover's laws, + With generous tears had wept thy fate." + +"Yes, injur'd youth," Lord Ranulph cried, + "Thou art this day my chosen heir; +In Adelaide behold thy bride, + Thy sister's future husband, there. + +"Lord Percy, to a candid mind, + Unites a fervour like thy own; +And Emma, not to merit blind, + Refers his cause to thee alone. + +"If thou wilt grant his fond desire, + 'Twill gain a brave, a noble friend; +And the possessions of thy sire, + To his posterity descend." + +"And did my Emma stay to hear, + Her brother sanctify her choice? +Ah Percy! now you need not fear + From Alwin, a dissenting voice. + +"Blest in my love, in Emma blest, + My heart each cherish'd wish obtains; +Northumbrians, now no more opprest, + Shall own a son of Herbert reigns. + +"May ye rebuild the peasant's cot, + Exalt the woe-depressed head, +And o'er each desolated spot, + The fostering calm of quiet spread! + +"May sterne reserve and caution cease! + With lenient hand dispense your sway; +Give them the healing balm of peace, + Their wounded spirits will obey. + +"Ah! cheer their gloom! dispel their care! + The smile will soon replace the tear; +And, wedded to a Saxon fair, + The foreign lord no more appear." + +1794. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 10: "Wreathing his arms in this sad knot."--SHAKESPERE'S +TEMPEST.] + +[Footnote 11: Lord of Cumberland.] + + + + +INVITATION, + +To J.B.C. + + +Now spring appears, with beauty crown'd, +And all is light and life around, +Why comes not Jane? When friendship calls, +Why leaves she not Augusta's walls? +Where cooling zephyrs faintly blow, +Nor spread the cheering, healthful glow. +That glides through each awaken'd vein, +As skimming o'er the spacious plain, +We look around with joyous eye, +And view no boundaries but the sky. + +Already April's reign is o'er, +Her evening tints delight no more; +No more the violet scents the gale, +No more the mist o'erspreads the vale; +The lovely queen of smiles and tears, +Who gave thee birth, no more appears; +But blushing May, with brow serene, +And vestments of a livelier green, +Commands the winged choir to sing, +And with wild notes the meadows ring. + +O come! ere all the train is gone, +No more to hail thy twenty-one; +That age which higher honor shares, +And well becomes the wreath it wears. +From lassitude and cities flee, +And breathe the air of heav'n, with me. + + +MAY 5, 1795. + + + + +WRITTEN ON + +WHITSUN-MONDAY, + +1795. + + +At an open window sitting, + On this day of mirth and glee, +'Cross a flow'ry vista flitting, + Many passing forms I see. +Ah! lovely prospect, stay awhile! + And longer glad my doating eye, +With poverty's delighted smile, + And lighten'd step, as passing by; + +With labour's spruce and ruddy train, + Deck'd out in all their best array, +Who, months of toil and care disdain, + Paid by the pleasures of a day. +The village girl still let me view, + Hast'ning to the neighb'ring fair; +Her cap adorn'd with pink or blue, + And nicely smooth her glossy hair. + +With sparkling eye and smiling face, + Ting'd o'er with beauty's warmest glow; +With timid air, and Rumble grace, + With clear and undepressed brow. +Go! lovely girl, and share the day, + To thy industrious merit due; +There join the dance, or choral lay; + Thou blooming, village rose, adieu! + +And thou, O youth, so blythe and free, + Bounding swiftly o'er the plain, +Go, taste the joys of liberty, + And cheer thy spirit, happy swain! +How different to the lonely hour, + When slowly following the plough, +Self-buoyant joy forgets the pow'r, + Which warms thy gladden'd bosom now. + +If some rural prize desiring, + Or ambitious of applause, +Loud huzzas thy wishes firing, + Thy steady hand the furrow draws; +Ne'er a victor fam'd in story, + Greater praise and reverence drew, +Than thou, attir'd in humble glory, + So, guiltless conqueror, adieu! + +Oh, here a charming group appears! + A cottage family, so gay, +Whose youthful hopes, uncheck'd by fears, + In smiles of thoughtless rapture play. +Here, borne in fond, parental arms, + The infant's roving eye we view; +Boasting a thousand, thousand charms, + Endearing innocents, adieu! + +They go! no more with beating heart, + And lively, dancing step to tread; +Unwillingly will they depart, + To seek again their homely shed. +Ah! Eve, I love thy veil of grey, + Which will conceal them from my view, +For, bending home their weary way, + How sad would be our last adieu! + + + * * * * * + +_The following was suggested by reading a whimsical description, given +by Scarron, of the deformity of his person, contrasted with its former +elegance, in the Curiosities of Literature, vol. 2, page 247_. + + * * * * * + + + + +PHILEMON. + + +Ye blooming youth, possest of every grace, + Which can delight the eye, or please the ear, +Who boast a polish'd mind and faultless face, + Awhile the councils of Philemon hear! + +Let not pride lift the thoughtless head too high, + Temerity arch o'er the scornful brow, +Contemptuous glances arm the sparkling eye, + Or the high heart with self-complacence glow! + +Alas! full soon the eve of life arrives, + Though pale Disease's train approach not nigh; +Short is the summer of the happiest lives, + If no rude storm disturbs the smiling sky. + +This wretched body, bending to the earth, + Once, on the wings of health, alert and gay, +Shone forth the foremost in the train of mirth, + And cloudless skies announc'd a beauteous day. + +My parents oft, with fond complacence view'd, + The elegance of my external form; +And thought my mind with excellence endued, + Bright as my genius, as my fancy warm. + +There was a time, poor as I now appear, + I admiration met in every look; +And, harsh as now my words may grate your ear, + Each tongue was silent when Philemon spoke. + +Once could this voice make every bosom thrill, + As it pour'd forth the light or plaintive lay; +And once these fingers, with superior skill, + Upon the lute could eloquently play. + +By partial friendship sooth'd, by flattery fann'd, + I learnt with conscious grace the dance to lead, +To guide the Phaeton with careless hand, + And rule, with flowing rein, the prancing steed. + +Sick with the glory of a trifler's fame, + By folly nurtur'd, I was proud and vain; +Till Chastisement in kindest mercy came, + Though then her just decrees I dar'd arraign. + +The form that sought so late the public view, + That glow'd with transport, as the world admir'd, +Fill'd with false shame, from every eye withdrew, + And to the shades of solitude retir'd. + +Consum'd by fevers, spiritless, forlorn, + Blasted by apoplexy's dreadful rage, +My bleeding heart by keen remembrance torn, + I past my prime in premature old age. + +I heard my parent's ill-suppressed sighs, + And wish'd myself upon the peaceful bier; +I saw the anguish of their sleepless eyes, + The smile dissembled, and the secret tear. + +Oft, with a kind of gratifying woe, + I recollected every former charm, +And, with the spleen of a malicious foe, + Delighted still to keep my sorrows warm. + +"Where is the lustre of the gladsome eye, + The airy smile, the animated mien, +The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye, + So lately envied, now no longer seen. + +"I too have gloried in my waving hair, + No ringlets now remain to raise my pride; +Nor can I now lay the white forehead bare, + And push the too luxuriant locks aside." + +Thus, like a child, I sigh'd for pleasures past, + And lost my hours in a delusive dream; +But Reason op'd my blinded eyes at last, + And clear'd each mist by her refulgent beam. + +I saw futurity before me spread, + A scourge or sceptre offer'd to my view, +Alarm'd, from Folly's erring mazes fled, + And to my God with humble rev'rence drew. + +I bow'd, submissive, at the holy shrine, + His mercy with warm gratitude confest, +Which had reveal'd the spark of life divine, + That slumber'd in my earth-enamoured breast. + +Had I, as friendship and self-love desir'd, + Still suck'd delirium at the fane of praise, +I might, my conscience lull'd and passions fir'd, + Have lost my soul in the bewitching blaze. + +Dear rising train, let not my words offend! + Nor the pure dictates of my love despise; +To one, late like yourselves, attention lend, + And, taught by his experience, be wise! + +Ah! banish from your eye the fiend Disdain; + Let fair simplicity supply its place; +Nor longer let conceit the bosom stain; + The child of weakness, follow'd by disgrace. + +Should time from you each glowing beauty wrest, + You will not then those self-reproaches feel, +Which every eye awaken'd in my breast, + And twenty winters scarce suffic'd to heel. + +Nor will your friends observe each faded charm, + Since still your countenance its smile retains, +And the same lov'd companion, kind and warm, + With unassuming manners, yet remains. + + +SEPT. 8, 1795. + + + + +ON A FAN. + + +Now I've painted these flowers, say what can I do, +To render them worthy acceptance from you? +I know of no sybil, whose wonderful art +Could to them superior virtues impart, +Who, of magical influence wonders could tell, +And, who over each blossom could mutter a spell. + +You only the humbler enchantments can prove, +That arise from esteem, from respect, and from love; +With such I assail you, and pow'rful the charm, +When applied to a heart sympathetic and warm; +To a heart such as that, which, if right I divine, +O C--ll--n--n! dwells in that bosom of thine. + +NOV. 10, 1795. + + + + +TO SIMPLICITY. + + +Fair village nymph, ah! may I meet + Thy pleasing form where'er I stray! +With open air and converse sweet, + Still cheer my undiscover'd way! + +With eyes, that shew the placid mind, + And with no feign'd emotions roll; +With mien, that sprightly or resign'd, + Bespeaks the temper of the soul. + +With smiles, where not the lips alone + Receive a brighter, vermil hue, +The cheek does warmer roses own, + And the eyes beam, a deeper blue! + +Though Fashion's minions scorn thy pow'r, + And slight thee, 'cause in russet drest, +Yet Joy frequents thy peaceful bow'r, + And sorrow flies to thee for rest. + +The echoing laugh, the rapturous tear, + The smile of friendship, gay and free, +Delight but when they are sincere, + And given, lovely nymph, by thee. + +When my Rosina reads a tale, + Though sweet the tuneful accents flow, +No studied pathos does prevail + To bid the hearer's bosom glow; + +Her voice to sympathy resign'd, + Each different feeling can impart. +And, tell me not, we e'er can find + A modulator, like the heart! + +And Mary's locks of glossy brown, + That fall in waves, with graceful swell, +In ever-varying ringlets thrown, + The fairest curls of art excel. + +Still rob'd in innocence and ease, + Daughter of Truth, shall thou prevail, +When Affectation cannot please, + And all the spells of Fashion fail. + + +NOV. 17, 1795. + + + + +THE TERRORS OF GUILT. + + +Yon coward, with the streaming hair, +And visage, madden'd to despair, +With step convuls'd, unsettled eye, +And bosom lab'ring with a sigh, +Is _Guilt!_--Behold, he hears the name, +And starts with horror, fear, and shame! + +See! slow Suspicion by his side, + With winking, microscopic eye! +And Mystery, his muffled guide, + With fearful speech, and head awry. + +See! scowling Malice there attend, +Bold Falsehood, an apparent friend; +Avarice, repining o'er his pelf, +Mean Cunning, lover of himself; +Hatred, the son of conscious Fear, +Impatient Envy, with a fiend-like sneer, +And shades of blasted Hopes, which still are hovering near! + +All other woes will find relief, +And time alleviate every grief; +Memory, though slowly, will decay, +And Sorrow's empire pass away. +Awhile Misfortune may controul, +And Fain oppress the virtuous soul, +Yet Innocence can still beguile +The patient sufferer of a smile, +The beams of Hope may still dispense +A grateful feeling to the sense; +Friendship may cast her arms around, +And with fond tears embalm the wound, +Or Piety's soft incense rise, +And waft reflection to the skies; +But those fell pangs which he endures, +Nor Time forgets, nor Kindness cures; +Like Ocean's waves, they still return, +Like Etna's fires, forever burn. + +Hound him no genial zephyrs fly, +No fair horizon glads his eye, +No joys to him does Nature yield, +The solemn grove, or laughing field; +Though both with loud rejoicings ring, +No pleasure does the echo bring, +Not bubbling waters as they roll, +Can tranquillize his bursting soul, +For Conscience still, with tingling smart, +Asserts his empire o'er his heart, +And even when his eye-lids close, +With clamourous scream affrights repose. + +Oppress'd with light, he seeks to shun +The splendid glories of the sun; +The busy crowds that hover near, +Torment his eye, distract his ear; +He hastens to the secret shades, +Where not a ray the gloom pervades; +Where Contemplation may retreat, +And Silence take his mossy seat; +Yet even there no peace he knows, +His fev'rish blood, no calmer flows; +Some hid assassins 'vengeful knife, +Is rais'd to end his wretched life. +He shudders, starts, and stares around, +With breathless fright, to catch the fancied sound; +Seeks for the dagger in his breast, +And gripes it 'neath his ruffled vest. + +Lo! now he plunges in the flood, +To cleanse his garments, stain'd with blood, +His sanguine arm, in terror, laves; +But ah! its hue defies the waves. +Deprest, bewildered, thence he flies, +And, to avoid Detection, tries, +Who, frowning, still before him stands, +The sword of Justice in her hands; +Abhorrent Scorn, unpitying Shame, +And Punishments without a name, +Still on her sounding steps attend, +And every added horror lend. +He turns away, with dread and fear, +But the fell spectres still are near. +Though Falsehood's mazes see him wind! +Yet Infamy is close behind, +Lifting her horn, with horrors fraught, +Whose hideous yell is frenzy to the thought. + +Now, maniac-like, he comes again, +And mixes with the jocund train; +But still those eyes that wildly roll, +Bespeak the tempest in his soul. +In yon deep cave he strives to rest, +But Mem'ry harrows up his breast; +He clasps the goblet, foe to Care, +And lo! Distraction hovers there. + +Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to know, +The sad varieties of woe; +Where'er thy footsteps turn, to meet, +An earthquake yawning at thy feet, +While o'er thy head pale meteors glare, +And boding tempests fill the air, +In throbbing anguish doom'd to roam, +Yet never find a peaceful home. +Haste! to the shrine of Mercy hie, +There lift the penitential eye, +With breaking heart thy sins deplore, +And wound Integrity no more! +Repentance then thy soul shall save, +And snatch thee, ransom'd, from the grave. + +JULY 1796. + + + * * * * * + +_The death of Selred, last King of the East-Saxons, reduced that part +of the Heptarchy to dependance on Mercia. The rest is imaginary_. + + * * * * * + + + + +CEN'LIN, PRINCE OF MERCIA. + + +When Britain many chiefs obey'd, +And seven Saxon princes sway'd, +The Mercian monarch, fam'd afar, +In peace respected, fear'd in war, +Favour'd by heav'n above the rest, +In his brave son was fully blest; +For none like Cen'lin did arise, +So virtuous, elegant, and wise. + +Of partial Mercian eyes the joy, +His parents idoliz'd the boy; +Saw with just pride each op'ning grace, +His charms of mind, of form, and face. +And as he oft, with modest air, +His thoughts and feelings did declare, +His father would delighted hear, +Would fondly drop the grateful tear; +And proudly cast his eyes around, +But not an equal could be found. +Warm from each lip applauses broke, +And every tongue his praises spoke; +The list'ning courtiers spread his fame, +And blessings follow'd Cen'lins name. + +Now twenty summer's suns had flown, +And Mercia's hopes were fully blown; +When ah! conceal'd in coarse disguise, +To Selred's[12] court their darling flies. +Selred, his father's scorn and hate, +Became the ruler of his fate. +There flatter'd, lov'd, the youth remain'd, +Till Cenulph's threats his heir regain'd. +But ah! no more the son of mirth, +His pensive eye now sought the earth; +No more within the dance to move, +Or list to sages, did he love; +But from surrounding friends would fly, +To pour in solitude the sigh. +And soon again the youth withdrew, +Again to th' Eastern-Saxons flew. +His father heard, opprest with woe, +His aged heart forgot to glow; +He learnt his foes an army led, +With youthful Cen'lin at their head, +He call'd his warriors forth to meet, +And stretch the rebel at hit feet: +Tears from his eyes in anguish broke, +As thus the aged monarch spoke: + +"Ye Mercians, let your banners fly! +The graceless youth this day shall die! +For, since he dares an army bring +Against his father and his king, +Though dear as life, I will not spare, +Nor listen to affection's pray'r! +If all my people should implore, +I'll pardon the rash boy no more! +His harden'd heart, to duty blind, +No ties of gratitude can bind; +This hoary head would else have rest, +And pleasure warm this aching breast. +Ah, cruel youth! thy wrongs I feel, +More deep than wounds of pointed steel. +For, if forlorn the parent's doom, +Who bears his offspring to the tomb, +Some comfort still his breast may know, +Some soothing thought may calm his woe, +And when he gives a loose to pain, +He feels not that he mourns in vain, +But fancies still his darling nigh, +And grateful for each bursting sigh, +Still bending o'er, with list'ning ear, +Each weeping, fond complaint to hear, +The dear-lov'd phantom hovers round, +And pours a balm in every wound. + +"How doubly poignant is my smart, +Bereaved of my Cen'lin's heart! +Exil'd from that deluded breast, +Where I had fondly hop'd to rest, +With faith undoubting, sweet repose, +Till Death should bid my eye-lids close. +And sometimes yet will hope arise; +Till now he ever scorn'd disguise; +Some cursed fiend might taint his youth, +And warp a temper form'd for truth. +When late he humbly knelt for grace, +And clasp'd my knees in close embrace, +Upon his lips a secret hung, +But something seem'd to stay his tongue; +I prest not, for my anger slept, +And fondness only saw he wept; +Ah! fatal haste! then had I known +The serpent, I had sav'd my son! +Yet surely pardon frank as mine, +A noble heart would more confine! +When leaguing with my bitter foe, +To strike some grand, decisive blow; +Perhaps to rob me of my throne, +And make it, ere the time, his own; +Or, should wan guilt a danger dread, +To humble this devoted head, +Each throbbing pang of conscience drown, +And seize, with bloody hands, the crown. +O'er this offence I cast a veil, +And fondly hush'd the whisper'd tale. +Ah fool! deluded by the grace, +Of that fine form, and perfect face; +I thought his bosom free from sin, +Nor dreamt a demon lurk'd within. +His voice, which ever could controul, +Each passion of the hearer's soul, +With ease my partial heart beguil'd, +Who knew no sorrows when he smil'd. +And ah! my friends, your downcast eyes, +Your pensive air, and smother'd sighs, +All tell me you lament the fate, +Of him, whom yet you cannot hate. +And shall I bear then to behold, +That form inanimate and cold, +His smiling lips depriv'd of breath, +His eyes for ever clos'd in death! +Ah no! my heart with anguish swells, +And every throbbing vein rebels. +Let sorrow weep, or anger thrill, +Yet all the parent triumphs still. + +"Oh Father! who in mercy reigns, +If thy all-ruling will ordains, +That my unhappy Cen'lin dies, +Remove the picture from my eyes! +At the same moment set us free, +Both rebel sons, my God, to thee!" +Thus did the king pour forth his pray'r, +With all the wildness of despair; +Then, stilling every rising sigh, +He calm'd the anguish of his eye, +And though within the burthen lay, +He wip'd the falling tears away. + +When lo! there comes a youthful train, +Descending swiftly to the plain, +Drest like the fairest sons of day, +In floating robes and colours gay; +No crested helmets there appear, +No glittering shield or pointed spear, +But youths with honey-suckles crown'd, +Or their fair locks with fillets bound, +Whose circling ranks and varied dyes, +Shew'd like the bow, that gilds the skies. +Whilst in the van a pair were seen, +Of peerless charms and graceful mien; +One lovely form the Mercians knew, +And gladden'd at the pleasing view, +Who, with the glow of youthful prime, +Had all the majesty of time. +And beauteous was the fair he led, +As any fabled Grecian maid; +The nymphs who tend Aurora's car, +And usher in the morning star, +Though made inhabitants of air, +Were not more elegant and fair; +Nor Dian's ever-healthful train, +When skimming o'er the spacious plain. +Had not more pure, more lively dyes, +Or brighter lustre in their eyes. + +The king, so late by woe deprest, +Felt hope reanimate his breast, +And as his Cen'lin nearer drew, +His waking hopes more vivid grew. +"My friends," he cried, "will you believe, +That open mien can e'er deceive? +That blooming, form can e'er unfold, +A heart ungenerous and cold, +That melting softness of the eye, +Can harbour direst cruelty? +Ah no! a poison's baleful pow'r, +Lurks not beneath so fair a flow'r. +Nor are those youths with amber hair, +Such as fell treason would prepare, +An aged monarch to dethrone, +And hear, unmov'd, a father's groan. +Gay are their looks, no dark disguise, +Dims the mild radiance of their eyes; +No murderous thoughts their souls employ, +But, heralds of transporting joy, +They come to bid suspicion cease, +And sooth my sorrow into peace." +Caution could scarce awhile controul +The strong delights of Cenulph's soul, +When Cen'lin knelt, and by his side +Half-kneeling, bent his lovely bride. +But, when he first essay'd to speak, +A hasty blush pass'd o'er his cheek, +He hung awhile his graceful head, +Till thus, with air confus'd he said: +"I come, by love with honours crown'd, +Yet sorrow casts a shade around, +That when my consort here I bring, +The heiress of a potent king, +The Mercians, clad in armour, come, +To lead their princess to her home. +No joyful hail our nuptial greets, +No proof of love my Ela meets, +But scarlet banners, waving high, +The bridal knot and wreath supply. +Alas! I see mistrust has won +E'en Cenulph's fondness from his son; +Or could my ever-honour'd sire, +A proof of Cen'lin's faith require? +Can force so needful now appear, +To aid a pow'r which I revere? +When eager beauty's form to view, +I first to Selred's court withdrew, +A single wish thy pow'r maintain'd, +A single wish thy son regain'd. +I left the maid whose matchless charms, +Each rooted prejudice disarms, +Who rul'd my heart with sovereign sway, +And taught a Mercian to obey +Laws that East-Saxons can impart, +When wit and beauty string the dart; +Left her when hope my doubts beguil'd, +And on our love her father smil'd. +Oft have I tried to win thine ear, +The fond, romantic tale to hear, +But when I found a lonely hour, +My coward soul has lost the pow'r; +As on my lips the accents hung, +Thy hate to Selred check'd my tongue. +Yet flattering hopes my passion fed, +And from thy court again I fled; +I thought when you my fair beheld, +And knew how greatly she excell'd, +In every charm, each art refin'd, +And virtue of the female mind, +Thy judgment would approve my choice, +And bless it with a cheerful voice. +And ah! though fortune did combine +With love, in making Ela mine, +I cannot from a grief refrain, +Remembering that I gave thee pain. +Yet if thy Cen'lin e'er could please, +If e'er my cares could give thee ease, +Let mild affection now arise, +And beam forgiveness from thine eyes! +No more thy son shall make thee know +A pain, or give thee cause of woe. +No nights the Mercians have to fear, +For all I love is center'd here," +He spoke, and o'er his father's soul, +A stream of healing comfort stole; +He rose, with slow, majestic grace, +Tears of delight adorn'd his face, +His pious heart with rapture glow'd, +And joy a second youth bestow'd. + +"To meet thee thus, my son," he cried, +"This peerless maiden for your bride, +Bids each distressing thought depart, +And joy again possess my heart. +Fair princess, thine the happy fate, +To heal the wounds of mutual hate; +No longer shall this bosom know, +An Eastern-Saxon as my foe; +And she, who bids that passion rest, +Doubt not, shall be supremely blest; +The part is holy and benign, +Befitting such a form as thine. +This day, far dearer than before, +Kind heav'n does twice my son restore, +For by those speaking looks I see, +Another valued child in thee." + +As then he raised them to his breast, +Around the joyful Mercians prest, +And made their shouts of triumph rise, +To the fair concave of the skies. + +OCTOBER 1795. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 12: King of the East-Saxons.] + + + + +RHAPSODY. + + +Lo! here a cloud comes sailing, richly clad +In royal purple, which the parting beams +Of bounteous Phoebus edge with tints of gold +And lucid crimson. One might fancy it +A noble bird, that laves its graceful form, +And bathes its rosy bosom in the light. +Look! how it swells and rears its snowy crest +With haughty grandeur; while the blue expanse, +In smiling patience lets the boaster pass, +And swell his train with all the lazy vapours +That hover in the air: an easy prey +To the gigantic phantom, whose curl'd wing, +Sweeps in these worthless triflers of the sky, +And wraps them in his bosom. Go, vain shadow! +Sick with the burthen of thy fancied greatness, +A breath of zephyr wafts thee into nothing, +Scatters thy spreading plumes, uncrowns thy front, +And drives thee downward to thy mother earth, +To mix with vapour and dissolve in dew. + +Such are the dreams of hope, which to the eye +Of youthful inexperience, seem to touch +The pure, unclouded sky of certainty. +Buoy'd up by the fond eloquence of thought, +And nurtur'd by the smile of vanity, +Each hour the air-born vision gathers bulk, +And Fancy decks it with a thousand hues, +Varied and wild, till it abounds in charms +Which sink the soul to sadness, when the breath +Of gentle Reason breaks the beauteous bubble, +And leaves us nought but vain regret behind. + + +FEBRUARY 1, 1797. + + + + +HUMAN PLEASURE OR PAIN. + + +When clouds and rain deform the sky, + And light'nings glare around, +Amidst the dreary, cheerless scene, + Some comfort may be found. + +There will, at some far-distant spot, + A streak of light appear, +Or, when the sullen vapours break, + The ether will be clear. + +And if the sun illumes the east, + And sheds his gladsome ray, +Some boding mist, or passing cloud + Will threat the rising day. + +The heart rejoicing in the view, + And dancing with delight, +Oft feels the touch of palsied fear, + And sinks at thought of night. + +So Hope's bright torch more clearly shines, + Amidst surrounding gloom, +And, beldame Fortune vainly throws + Her mantle o'er the tomb. + + +MARCH 15,1797. + + + + +THE COMPLAINT OF FANCY. + +To A.R.C. + + +As, musing, late I sat reclin'd, +And waking dreams absorb'd my mind, +A damsel came, of various dyes, +Like painted Iris from the skies; +A purfled saffron was her vest, +And sweet gum-cistus form'd her crest; +In many a playful ring, her hair +Flew light and flossy in the air; +The mantle, blue and gold, she wore, +A rose of opals held before, +While, graceful in her fairy hand, +Appear'd a crimson-tufted wand, +Whose shade on every object threw +A glowing tint of roseate hue. + +"Whence art thou, blooming nymph?" I cried, +And thus a tuneful voice replied: +"Men call me Fancy; at my shrine +Myriads confess my power divine; +There painters bend the willing knee, +And laurell'd poets sue to me: +For mine is every vivid ray, +Which partial Nature gave the day; +And, to the music of my song, +A thousand nameless charms belong. + +"The friend of Happiness, I dwell +Belov'd alike in court or cell; +Where Glory lifts her ardent eye, +With hasty, kindred zeal I fly, +In sun-beams place the hero's form, +And bid his arm command the storm; +On swelling clouds an altar raise, +And fan the tow'ring flame of praise. + +"Oft, from the lorn enthusiast's lyre, +My fingers strike etherial fire, +And give to sounds of piercing woe, +Extatic rapture's fervent glow. +Oft sooth the maniac's throbbing vein, +And grace her simple, wilder'd strain; +The tribe of Pain in fetters keep, +Lull wounded Memory to sleep, +And, in the mind of gloomy Care, +Bid Thought an angel's semblance wear. + +"Dear to each blest aerial pow'r, +E'en Wisdom calls me to her bow'r; +My songs her leisure hours beguile, +And teach her holy lip to smile. +And, when the Muse, with thoughtful care, +Has woven chaplets for her hair, +I let her, with her myrtles, twine, +Full many a fragrant rose of mine. + +"Then why, since all the wise and gay, +To me a grateful homage pay, +Since I to all my hand extend, +And, liberal, every heart befriend, +Does Nancy from the croud retire, +And rend my blossoms from her lyre? +Though every string the loss bewail, +And tones of mellow sweetness fail, +Which us'd to charm the pensive ear, +When list'ning Friendship bent to hear. + +"Tell her I wish not to intrude +Upon her sacred solitude, +Nor cast my undulating chain, +Around her glowing heart again; +No! every claim I now resign, +Yet let some small regard be mine; +Let one, who nurs'd her infant years, +And wip'd away some bitter tears, +Still animate the scenes around, +And make her tread on fairy ground; +Give playful sweetness to each lay, +And decorate the passing day. + +"Tell her, if now she scorns my strain, +She may invoke my name in vain; +In vain my proffered aid implore, +Contemn'd, I hardly pardon more." + +She said, and springing from the earth, +Attending found her suitor Mirth, +Who caught her hand, with lively air, +And plac'd her in his silver chair, +Which through the yielding ether flew, +And quickly bore them from my view. + + + + +ON THE EVE OF DEPARTURE FROM O---- + + +Loud beats the rain! The hollow, groan + Of rushing winds I hear, +That with a deep and sullen moan, + Pass slowly by the ear. + +Soon will my dying fire refuse + To yield a cheerful ray, +Yet, shivering still I sit and muse + The latest spark away. + +Ah, what a night! the chilly air + Bids comfort hence depart, +While sad repining's clammy wings + Cling icy, to my heart. + +To-morrow's dawn may fair arise, + And lovely to the view; +The sun with radiance gild the skies, + Yet then--I say adieu! + +Oh, stay, dear Night, with cautious care, + And lingering footsteps move, +Though day may be more soft and fair, + Not her, but thee, I love. + +Stay, wild in brow, severe in mien, + Stay! and ward off the foe; +Who, unrelenting smiles serene, + Yet tells me I must go. + +Forsake these hospitable halls, + Where Truth and Friendship dwell, +To these high towers and ancient walls, + Pronounce a long farewell. + +Alas! will Time's rapacious hand, + These golden days restore? +Or will he suffer me to taste + These golden days no more? + +Will he permit that here again, + I turn my willing feet? +That my glad eyes may here again, + The look of kindness meet? + +That here I ever may behold, + Felicity to dwell, +And often have the painful task + Of sighing out farewell? + +Ah, be it so! my fears I lose, + By hope's sweet visions fed; +And as I fly to seek repose, + She flutters round my bed. + + +NOV. 17, 1796. + + + + +TO M.I. + + +Thou, Margaret, lov'st the secret shade, + The murmuring brook, or tow'ring tree; +The village cot within the glade, + And lonely walk have charms for thee. + +To thee more dear the jasmine bow'r, + That shelt'ring, undisturb'd retreat, +Than the high canopy of pow'r, + Or Luxury's embroider'd seat. + +More sweet the early morning breeze, + Whose odours fill the rural vale, +The waving bosom of the seas, + When ruffled by the rising gale. + +Than all which pride or pomp bestow, + To grace the lofty Indian maid, +Who prizes more the diamond's glow, + Than all in humbler vest array'd. + +Sweet is the rural festive song, + Which sounds so wildly o'er the plain, +When thoughtless mirth the notes prolong, + And heart-felt pleasure pours the strain. + +Sweet is the dance where light and gay, + The village maiden trips along; +Her simple robe in careless play, + As her fleet step winds round the throng. + +Sweet is the labourer's blazing fire, + When evening shades invite to rest; +Though weary, home does joy inspire, + And social love dilates his breast. + +His rural lass with glee prepares, + The dainties fondness made her hoard; +Her husband now the banquet shares, + And children croud around the board. + +Ah! who could wish to view the air + Of listless ease and languid wealth? +Who with such pleasures could compare + The joys of innocence and health? + + +AUGUST 20, 1796. + + + + +CANTATA. DEL METASTASIO. + + +"D'atre nubi e il sol ravvolto, + Luce infausta il Ciel colora. + Pur chi sa? Quest' alma ancora + La speranza non perde. + +Non funesta ogni tempesta + Co' naufragj all' onde il seno; + Ogni tuono, ogni baleno + Sempre un fulmine non e." + + + + +TRANSLATION. + + +Dark, mournful clouds hang o'er the sun, + Lights gleam portentous in the air, +And yet who knows? This troubled heart + Still gives not up to blank despair. + +Not big with shipwrecks every storm, + That sweeps the bosom of the main, +Nor does the threatening, turbid sky, + Always the thunder-bolt contain. + + + + +LA FORTUNA. DELLO STESSO. + + +A chi serena io miro, + Chiaro e di notte il cielo: + Torna per lui nel gelo + La terra a germogliar. + +Ma se a taluno io giro + Torbido il guardo, e fosco, + Fronde gli niega il bosco, + Onde non trova in mar. + + + + +TRANSLATION. + + +To him whom kindly I behold, + The midnight sky is clear, +And 'mid the wintry frost and cold, + The blushing flowers appear. + +But to the wretch who meets my eye, + When kindled by disdain, +The very grove will leaves deny, + And waveless be the main. + + + + +CANTATA DELLO STESSO. + + +Finche un zeffiro soave + Tien del mar l'ira placata, + Ogni nave + E fortunata, + E felice ogni nocchier; + +E ben prova di coraggio + Incontrar l'onde funeste, + Navigar fra le tempeste, + E non perdere il sentier. + + + + +TRANSLATION. + + +Whilst zephyr sooths the angry waves + Of Ocean into rest, +Each vessel is in safety borne, + And every pilot blest. + +But he indeed demands our praise, + Who stems the tempest's force, +And midst the ire of hostile waves, + Pursues his destin'd course. + + + + +SONETTO. + +DI GIOVANNI DELLA CASA. + + +Oh sonno, oh della cheta, umida, ombrosa + Notte placido figlio; oh de' mortali + Egri conforto, oblio dolce de' mali, + Si gravi, ond' e la vita aspra, e nojosa: +Soccorri al core omai, che langue, e posa + Non have; e queste membra stanche, e frali + Solleva: a me ten vola, oh sonno, e l'ali + Tue brune sovra me distendi, e posa. +Ov' e il silenzio, che'l di fugge, e'l lume? + E i lievi sogni, che con non secure + Vestigia di seguirti han per costume? +Lasso, che'nvan te chiamo, e queste oscure, + E gelide ombre invan lusingo; oh piume + D'asprezza colme; oh notti acerbe, e dure! + + + + +SONNET, TO SLEEP. + +TRANSLATION. + + +Son of the silent, dark, and humid Night, + Consoler of the wretched, by whose sway +The gloomy train of ills are put to flight, + That blacken Life's uncertain, tedious day, + +O! succour now this restless, pining heart! + Give to these feeble, weary limbs repose! +Fly to me, Sleep! and let thy sombre wings + Over my couch their dusky plumes disclose! + +O! where is Silence, who avoids the light? + Where the wild dreams that flutter in thy train? +Alas! in vain I call thee, cruel Night! + And flatter these insensate shades in vain. + +And oh! without thy cheering dews are shed, +How full of hardships is the downy bed! + + + + +EDITHA. + + +Breathing the violet-scented gale, + Near to a river's limpid source, +Which, through a wide-extended vale, + Wound slowly on its sleeping course, + +Attended by a youthful pair, + With rubied lip and roving eye, +Oft would fair Editha repair, + And let her children wander nigh. + +There pleas'd behold their footsteps turn, + To each new object in their way, +Their ringlets glittering in the sun, + Their faces careless, blythe, and gay. + +Once, when they drest their flaxen hair, + With flow'rets wild of various hue, +And with a proud, exulting air, + To their delighted parent drew: + +"Ah! thus may every day arise! + And pleasure thus your hearts, pervade!" +The widow'd mother fondly cries, + "Before the youthful blossoms fade. + +"My sighs are all dispers'd in air, + Resign'd to fate, I weep no more, +Your welfare now is all my care, + Yet am I constant as before. + +"The world, because a vermil bloom, + Tinges my yet unfading cheek, +Says I forget my William's tomb, + A new and earthly love to seek. + +"Because I join the social train, + With lip that wears a kindred smile; +And a gay sonnet's lively strain, + Does oft the lonely hour beguile: + +"Because no longer now I mourn, + With sweeping robes of sable hue; +No more I clasp the marble urn, + Or vainly bid the world adieu. + +"Ah! ill my secret soul they know, + Where my lost hero still remains, +Where memory makes my bosom glow, + And binds me still in closer chains. + +"Whoe'er hath seen my William's form, + Heighten'd with every martial grace, +The ever-varying, unknown charm, + Wich beam'd in his expressive face; + +"Or heard his fine ideas try, + In Fancy's fairy garb to teach, +While the sweet language of his eye, + Excell'd the eloquence of speech, + +"Could ne'er suppose my faith would fail, + Or aught again this heart enslave; +That absence would o'er love prevail, + Or hope be bounded by the grave. + +"Could all but I his merit know? + His wit and talents see? +And is his name by all below + Remember'd, but by me? + +"No, ne'er will I the memory lose, + Though from my sight thy form is flown, +Of tenderness for other's woes, + And noble firmness in thy own. + +"No slavish fear thy soul deprest, + Of Death, or his attendant train; +For in thy pure and spotless breast, + The fear of heav'n did only reign. + +"Thus, when the still-unsated waves + Spread o'er thy head their whelming arms, +When horrid darkness reign'd around, + And lightnings flash'd their dire alarms, + +[13]"When, wing'd with death, each moment flew, + And blood the foaming ocean stain'd, +Thy courage cool, consistent, true, + Its native energy maintain'd. + +"And when the fatal moment came, + The bullet enter'd in thy side, +Only thy spirit's beauteous frame, + Its prisoner flying, droop'd and died. + +"This is it that consoles my mind, + Which to my love aspiring flies, +And makes me hope, in future days, + To hail my William in the skies. + +"Should tears from my pale eyelids steal, + I teach my children's how to flow, +And make their little bosoms feel, + Before their time, the touch, of woe. + +"I will not weep! the world shall see + That I a nobler tribute pay; +More grateful both to heaven and thee, + By guiding them in virtue's way." + +Embracing then her fondest cares, + She cast her raptur'd eyes above, +And breath'd to heav'n emphatic pray'rs, + Of mingled reverence and love. + +APRIL 15, 1795. + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 13: I know not if I have expressed myself with much clearness +here, but I meant to describe a sea-fight as concisely as possible.] + + + + +TO M.I. + + +Light breezes dance along the air, + The sky in smiles is drest, +And heav'ns pure vault, serene and fair, + Pourtrays the cheerful breast. + +Each object on this moving ball + Assumes a lovely hue; +So fair good-humour brightens all + That comes within her view. + +Her presence glads the youthful train, + Reanimates the gay, +And, round her, by the couch of pain, + The light-wing'd graces play. + +Her winning mein and prompt reply, + Can sullen pride appease; +And the sweet arching of her eye + E'en apathy must please. + +To you, with whom the damsel dwells + A voluntary guest, +To you, Maria, memory tells, + This tribute is addrest. + +The feeble strains that I bequeath, + With melody o'erpay; +And let thy lov'd piano breathe + A sweet responsive lay. + +Although the mellow sounds will rise, + So distant from my ear, +The charmer Fancy, when she tries, + Can make them present here. + +Can paint thee, as with raptur'd bend, + You hail the powers of song; +When the light fingers quick descend, + And fly the notes along: + +Feel the soft chord of sadness meet, + An echo in the soul, +And waking joy the strains repeat, + When Mirth's-quick measures roll. + +This "mistress of the powerful spell," + Can every joy impart; +And ah! you doubtless know too well + How she can wring the heart. + +She rules me with despotic reign, + As now I say <I>adieu_; +And makes me feel a sort of pain, + As if I spoke to you. + + +FEB. 14, 1797. + + + + +WRITTEN IN ZIMMERMANN'S SOLITUDE. + + +Hail, melancholy sage! whose thoughtful eye, +Shrunk from the mere _spectator's_ careless gaze, +And, in retirement sought the social smile, +The heart-endearing aspect, and the voice +Of soothing tenderness, which Friendship breathes, +And which sounds far more grateful to the ear, +Than the soft notes of distant flute at eve, +Stealing across the waters: Zimmermann! +Thou draw'st not Solitude as others do, +With folded arms, with pensive, nun-like air, +And tearful eye, averted from mankind. +No! warm, benign, and cheerful, she appears +The friend of Health, of Piety, and Peace; +The kind Samaritan that heals our woes, +The nurse of Science, and, of future fame +The gentle harbinger: her meek abode +Is that dear home, which still the virtuous heart, +E'en in the witching maze of Pleasure's dance, +In wild Ambition's dream, regards with love, +And hopes, with fond security, to pass +The evening of a long-protracted day, +Serenely joyful, there. + + + + +IN MEMORY OF MR. AGOSTINO ISOLA, + +OF CAMBRIDGE, + +Who died on the 5th of June, 1797. + + +Awake, O Gratitude! nor let the tears +Of selfish Sorrow smother up thy voice, +When it should speak of a departed friend. +A tender friend, the first I ever lost! +For Destiny till now was merciful, +And though I oft have felt a transient pang, +For worth unknown, and wept awhile for those, +Whom long acquaintance only made me love, +No keen regret laid pining at my heart, +Nor Memory in the solitary hour, +Would sting with grief, as when she speaks +Thy virtue, knowledge, wisdom, gentleness, +Thy venerable age, and says that I +Had once the happiness to call thee friend. + +Yes! I once bore that title, and my heart +Thought nobler of itself, that one so good, +So honor'd, so rever'd, should give it me. +O _Isola!_ when that glad season comes, +Which brought redemption to a ruin'd world, +And, like thee, hides beneath the snow of age, +A gay, benevolent, and feeling heart, +I hop'd again to hear thy tongue repeat, +With youthful warmth and zealous energy, +Those passages, where Poetry assumes +An air divine, and wakes th' attentive soul +To holy rapture! Then you promis'd me +The luxury to weep o'er Dante's muse, +And fair Italia's loftier poets hail. + + I have often heard +That years would blunt the feelings of the soul, +And apathy ice the once-glowing heart. +Injurious prejudice! Dear, guileless friend! +Thou read'st mankind, but saw not, or forgot +Their faults and vices; for thy breast was still +The residence of sweet Simplicity, +Daughter of letter'd Wisdom, and the friend +Of Love and Pity. Happy soul, farewell! +Long shall we mourn thee! longer will it be, +"Ere we shall look upon thy like again!" + + + * * * * * + +This humble tribute to the memory of my venerated friend, was written in +the first impulse of my sorrow for his loss, and though unworthy of his +virtues, is still a small memorial of my respect for a man, on whose +tomb might justly be inscribed, as I have seen on an old monument: + + + "Heven hath his soule. + He fruits of Pietie, + This Towne his want. + Our hearts his Memorie." + + + + +TO THE NUNS OF BODNEY. + + +Ye holy women, say! will ye accept +The passing tribute of a humble friend? +Stranger indeed to you and to your faith, +But O! I hope not stranger to the zeal, +Which warm'd your bosoms in Religion's cause. +When impious men commanded you to break +The vow which bound your souls, and which in youth +Warm Piety's emphatic lips had made. +Say! will ye suffer me on that rude tomb, +Where she reposes (whose benignant smile, +Whose animated, life-inspiring eye, +And faded form, majestic, still appears +In Thought's delusive hour) to shed a tear? +On her, whose sainted look, though seen but once, +I never can forget, till Time shall wrap +The veil of Death around me, and make dumb +The voice of Memory. Ah! "how low she lies!" +No marble monument to speak her praise, +And tell the world that here a DILLON rests. +One, who in beauty's prime forsook the world, +And, _self-bereav'd_ of all it holds most dear, +Retir'd, to pass the pilgrimage of life, +In solemn prayer and peaceful solitude. +Ah, vain desire! Ambition's scowling eye +Must see the cloister, as the palace, low, +And meek-ey'd Quiet quit her last abode, +Ere he can pause to look upon the wreck, +And rue the wild impatience of his hand. + +Hail! blessed spirit! This rude cypher'd stone. +On which a sister's pensive eye shall muse +In sorrow, and another relative +In sweet, though mournful, recollection, bend, +Shall call a tear into the stranger's eye +Whene'er he hears the tale, yet make him proud +That Britain's hospitable land should yield +All that you could accept, _an humble grave_. + + + + +_Written in London, on the 19th of March, 1796._ + + +A lov'd companion, chosen friend, + Does at this hour depart, +Whom the dear name of father binds + Still closer to my heart. + +On him may joy-dispensing heav'n + Each calm delight bestow, +And eas'd of peace-destroying care + His life serenely flow! + +Did I but know his bosom calm, + And free from anxious fear, +Around me in more cheerful hues + Would every scene appear. + +And I will hope that he, who ne'er + Repin'd at heav'n's decree, +But ever patient and resign'd, + Submissive bent the knee: + +Who, best of fathers, never sought + For arbitrary sway, +But free within each youthful mind, + Bade Reason lead the way. + +Who taught us, 'stead of servile fear, + A warm esteem to prove, +And bade each act of duty spring, + From gratitude and love. + +Yes, I must hope that generous mind + With many cares opprest, +Shall in the winter of his days + With sweet repose be blest. + + + * * * * * + +_A friend, a year or two ago, gave me_ Joseph's Reconciliation with +his Brethren, _as a subject to write upon; but I was afraid of not +treating it in such a manner as a sacred story deserved, and gave up +the attempt, when I had written little more than the following lines, +to account for their not knowing him, although he well remembered them; +and am persuaded to let them appear here_. + + * * * * * + + + + +FRAGMENT. + + + * * * * * + +They, ere he left them, had attain'd their prime +And were less alter'd by the hand of Time; +But, the slim youth no longer met their view, +Fair, as the fancy e'er a seraph drew. +Who still, upborne by joy, in smiles was found, +With step elate that scarcely press'd the ground. +Before a grief had raz'd his youthful breast, +Or care had robb'd his brilliant eyes of rest. +When lofty visions swam before his sight, +And dreams of empire wrapt his soul at night. +Whose hair luxuriant flow'd in glossy pride, +And, from his snowy forehead, wav'd aside; +Which, vein'd with purest azure, rose serene, +And threw complacence o'er a rapturous mien. +The wandering light that sparkled in his eye, +The rounding lip of liveliest crimson dye, +The speaking form, by each emotion sway'd, +The voice, that softest music had convey'd, +Were now matur'd. No more the child they saw, +But one, with majesty, inspiring awe; +Whose silken locks no more in ringlets flow, +But gold and purple bind his manly brow: +No more the envied robe his limbs invest, +In all the pomp of eastern monarchs drest. +The sun of Egypt had embrown'd his face, +And time had ripen'd every youthful grace. + +As when the morn, in vivid colours gay, +And tender beauty, flies to meet the day, +Her lively tints lose their primeval hue, +The white and saffron mingle with the blue, +A glowing blush o'er the whole ether reigns, +But not a cloud its genuine tint retains. + + * * * * * + + + + +FRAGMENT. + + +Where yonder mossy ruins lie, +And desolation strikes the eye, +A noble mansion, high and fair, +Once rear'd its turrets in the air. +There infant warriors drew their breath, +And learn'd to scorn the fear of death. +In halls where martial trophies hung, +They listen'd while the minstrels sung, +Of pain and glory, toil and care, +And all the horrid charms of war: +There caught the fond desire of fame, +And panted for a hero's name. +Alas! too oft in youthful bloom, +Renown has crown'd the early tomb, +Has pierc'd the widow's bosom deep, +And taught the mother's eyes to weep. +She, on whose tale the stripling hung, +While pride and sorrow rul'd her tongue. +His father's gallant acts to tell, +How bold he fought, how bravely fell. + +Methinks e'en now I hear her speak, +I see the tear upon her cheek; +The musing boy's abstracted brow, +And the high-arching eye below. +The stifled sigh and anxious heave, +The kindling heart which dares not grieve; +The finely-elevated head, +The hand upon the bosom spread, +Proclaim him wrought by potent charms, +And speak his very soul in arms. + +Incautious zeal! what hast thou done? +The tale has robb'd thee of thy son. +And while thy pious tears deplore, +The loss of him who lives no more, +Ambition wakes her restless fire, +The boy will emulate his sire, + + * * * * * + + + + +_Written April the 18th, 1796_ + + +The beauteous queen of social love, +Descending from the realms above, +Through the wide space of ether flew, +With care this little world to view, +Till, tir'd with wandering, at the last, +Through every different climate past, +She sought not out a splendid dome, +But made this humble cot her home. + +The sweetest lyre would strive in vain, +To sing the pleasures of her reign, +Whose powerful influence does impart, +New softness to the feeling heart, +Bids it each narrow thought resign, +And fills it with a warmth benign. + +From morning till the close of day, +Here all a grateful homage pay, +For here she plays her harmless wiles, +And scatters her endearing smiles; +Here no proud rivals intervene, +And all, though glowing, is serene. +Here, since she first her visit paid, +Still has the sweet enchantress staid, +And never met a single slight, +Or spread her snowy plumes for flight. + +Contented 'neath the humble roof; +No timid heart is kept aloof; +A kind and condescending guest, +She lightens each despairing breast; +Where pain her poignant venom spreads, +The balm of tenderness she sheds, +Which breathes a calm repose around, +And heals at last the burning wound. + +When the heart throbs with bitter woe, +Her winning mien disarms the foe, +And the kind glances of her eye, +Force the desponding power to fly. +She gives a zest to every joy, +Forbids tranquillity to cloy, +Softens misfortune, chases fear, +And balm distills in every tear. +'Tis she alone can make us know, +A truly blissful hour below, +Can smooth the furrow'd brow of life, +And hush the thundering voice of strife. + +O, may she still exert her power, +Still lead us to the rural bower, +Which vaunting Pride does ne'er disgrace, +Or critic Envy's spiteful face. +Here Raymond ever shall delight, +To sit and watch the closing night; +And open-hearted Gertrude here, +With her sweet infant shall appear. +Here oft her brother shall prepare, +A wreath for Mary's curling hair; +While soft-voic'd Anna, fond of play, +And all the train, alert and gay, +In healthful games shall frolic round, +And revel on the mossy ground. + +Here Edmund shall forget his care, +And often fill an elbow chair; +While Sophia, friendly and sincere, +Shall ever find a welcome here. + +Yet would my hovering fancy trace, +The features of each happy face; +And sympathy informs my mind, +That they the same emotions find; +That in each scene of harmless glee, +Memory recalls the absent three: +And all, though distance strives to part, +Will hold communion in the heart. + + + +FINIS. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Elegies and Other Small Poems, by Matilda Betham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELEGIES AND OTHER SMALL POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 11193.txt or 11193.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/1/9/11193/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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