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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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