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The luckless Israelites, when taken
Again I behold where for hours I have ponBy some inhuman tyrant's order,
der'd, Were ask'd to sing, by joy forsaken,
As reclining, at eve, on yon tombstone I On Babylonian river's border.
Or round the steep brow of the churchyard Oh! had they sung in notes like these,
I wander'd, Inspired by stratagem or fear,
To catch the last gleam of the sun's setThey might have set their hearts at
ting ray. ease, The devil a soul had stay'd to hear. I once more view the room, with spectators
surrounded, But if I scribble longer now,
Where, as Zanga, I trod on Alonzo o'erThe deuce a soul will stay to read:
thrown; My pen is blunt, my ink is low;
While, to swell my young pride, such ap'Tis almost time to stop, indeed.
I fancied that Mossop himself was outTherefore, farewell, old Granta's spires !
shone: No more, like Cleofas, I fly; No more thy theme my muse inspires:
Or, as Lear, I pour'd forth the deep impreThe reader's tired, and so am I.
cation, October 28, 1806.
By my daughters of kingdom and reason
deprived; Till, fired by loud plaudits and self-adulation,
I regarded myself as a Garrick revived. ON A DISTANT VIEW OF THE
VILLAGE AND SCHOOL OF Ye dreams of my boyhood, how much I reHARROW ON THE HILL
gret you !
Unfaded your memory dwells in my Oh! mihi præteritos referat si Jupiter annos.
breast; YE scenes of my childhood, whose loved Though sad and deserted, I ne'er can forrecollection
get you: Embitters the present, coinpared with Your pleasures may still be in fancy pose the past;
To Ida full oft may remembrance restore E'en suns, which systems now control, me,
Would twinkle dimly through their While fate shall the shades of the future
November 7, 1806. Since darkness o'ershadows the prospect
before me, More dear is the beam of the past to my
TO WOMAN soul.
WOMAN! experience might have told me, But if, through the course of the years That all must love thee who behold thee: which await me,
Surely experience might have taught Some new scene of pleasure should open Thy firmest promises are nought: to view,
But, placed in all thy charms before me, I will say, while with rapture the thought All I forget, but to adore thee. shall elate me,
Oh memory! thou choicest blessing Oh, such were the days which my in- When join'd with hope, when still possessfancy knew !!
But how much cursed by every lover
When hope is fled and passion's over.
Woman, that fair and fond deceiver,
How prompt are striplings to believe her!
How throbs the pulse when first we view.
How quick we credit every oath,
Howe'er those orbs may wildly beam, Fondly we hope 't will last for aye,
When, lo ! she changes in a day. That fatal glance forbids esteem. This record will for ever stand,
• Woman, thy vows are traced in sand.” When Nature stamp'd thy beauteous
TO M. S. G.
Extend not your anger to sleep; Therefore, to guard her dearest work, For in visions alone your affection canı Lest angels might dispute the prize,
live, She bade a secret lightning lurk
I rise, and it leaves me to weep. Within those once celestial eyes.
Then, Morpheus ! envelope my faculties: These might the boldest sylph appal,
fast, When gleaming with meridian blaze; Shed o'er me your languor benign; Thy beauty must enrapture all;
Should the dream of to-night but resemble But who can dare thine ardent gaze ?
What rapture celestial is mine! 'Tis said that Berenice's hair
In stars adorns the vault of heaven; They tell us that slumber, the sister of But they would ne'er permit thee there,
death, Thou wouldst so far outshine the seven. Mortality's emblem is given;
To fate how I long to resign my frail For did those eyes as planets roll,
breath, Thy sister-lights would scarce appear: If this be a foretaste of heaven!
Though in visions, sweet lady, perhaps you
may smile, Oh, think not my penance deficient ! When dreams of your presence my slum
bers beguile, To awake will be torture sufficient.
ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE
[The 'Mary' of this poem is not to be confounded with the eiress of Annesley, or • Mary' of Aberdeen.) This faint resemblance of thy charms, Though strong as mortal art could
give, My constant heart of fear disarms,
Revives my hopes, and bids me live.
[The Lesbia of this poem is Julia Leacroft.) LESBIA ! since far from you I've ranged,
Our souls with fond affection glow not; You say 't is I, not you, have changed,
I'd tell you why, — but yet I know not. Your polish'd brow no cares have crost;
And, Lesbia! we are not much older, Since, trembling, first my heart I lost,
Or told my love, with hope grown bolder. Sixteen was then our utmost age,
Two years have lingering past away, love! And now new thoughts our minds engage,
At least I feel disposed to stray, love ! 'Tis I that am alone to blame,
I, that am guilty of love's treason; Since your sweet breast is still the same,
Caprice must be my only reason.
Here I can trace the locks of gold
Which round thy snowy forehead wave, The cheeks which sprung from beauty's
mould, The lips which made me beauty's slave. Here I can trace — ah, no! that eye,
Whose azure floats in liquid fire, Must all the painter's art defy,
And bid him from the task retire.
Here I behold its beauteous hue;
Like una o'er the ocean playing ?
No, no, my flame was not pretended,
For, oh! I loved you most sincerely; And — though our dream at last is ended
My bosom still esteems you dearly.' No more we meet in yonder bowers;
Absence has made me prone to roving; But older, firmer hearts than ours
Have found monotony in loving. Your cheek's soft bloom is unimpair'd, 29
New beauties still are daily brightning, Your eye for conquest beams prepared,
The forge of love's resistless lightning.
Sweet copy ! far more dear to me,
Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art, "Than all the living forms could be, Save her who placed thee next my
She placed it, sad, with needless fear,
Held every sense in fast control.
Arm'd thus, to make their bosoms bleed,
Many will throng to sigh like me, love! More constant they may prove, indeed; Fonder, alas ! they ne'er can be, love! (1806.]
LINES ADDRESSED TO A
LOVE'S LAST ADIEU
"Αεί, δ' αεί με φεύγει. ANACREON. As the author was discharging his pistols in The roses of love glad the garden of life, a garden, two ladies passing near the spot
Though nurtured 'mid weeds dropping were alarmed by the sound of a bullet hissing near them; to one of whom the following Till tine crops the leaves with unmerciful
pestilent dew, stanzas were addressed the next morning. [The occurrence took place at Southwell, and the
knife, beautiful lady to whom the lines were ad- Or prunes them for ever, in love's last dressed was Miss Houson.]
adieu ! DOUBTLESS, sweet girl ! the hissing lead,
In vain with endearments we soothe the sad Wafting destruction o'er thy charms,
heart, And hurtling o'er thy lovely head,
In vain do we vow for an age to be true; Has fill'd that breast with fond alarms.
The chance of an hour may command us to
part, Surely some envious demon's force,
Or death disunite us in love's last adieu ! Vex'd to behold such beauty here, Impell’d the bullet's viewless course, Diverted from its first career.
Still Hope, breathing peace through the
grief-swollen breast, Yes ! in that nearly fatal hour
Will whisper, Our meeting we yet may
renew:' The ball obey'd some hell-born guide; But Heaven, with interposing power,
With this dream of deceit half our sorrow's
represt, In pity turn’d the death aside.
Nor taste we the poison of love's last adieu! Yet, as perchance one trembling tear Upon that thrilling bosom fell;
Oh! mark you yon pair: in the sunshine of Which I, th' unconscious cause of fear,
youth Extracted from its glistening cell:
Love twined round their childhood his
flow’rs as they grew; Say, what dire penance can atone
They flourish awhile in the season of truth, For such an outrage done to thee?
Till chill'd by the winter of love's last
adieu ! Arraign'd before thy beauty's throne, What punishment wilt thou decree?
Sweet lady! why thus doth a tear steal its Might I perform the judge's part,
way The sentence I should scarce deplore;
Down a cheek which outrivals thy bosom It only would restore a heart
in hue ? Which but belongd to thee before. Yet why do I ask? — to distraction a prey,
Thy reason has perish'd with love's last The least atonement I can make
adieu ! Is to become no longer free; Henceforth I breathe but for thy sake, Oh! who is yon misanthrope, shunning Thou shalt be all in all to me.
From cities to caves of the forest he flew: But thou, perhaps, may'st now reject There, raving, he howls his complaint to the Such expiation of my guilt:
wind; Come then, some other mode elect;
The mountains reverberate love's last Let it be death, or what thou wilt.
Choose then, relentless I and I swear
Nought shall thy dread decree prevent; Yet hold - one little word forbear!
Let it be aught but banishment.
Now hate rules a heart which in love's easy
chains Once passion's tumultuous blandishments