MAJOR ANDRE TO ELEONORA.
Written the night before his Execution.
FROM scenes where savage murder stalks around,
And sighs of sorrow break through every sound;
Where innocence in vain for pardon pleads,
And Virtue, doom'd by tyrants, soonest bleeds;
Dear long-lost love! thy André greets once more
Thy tender bosom, and his native shore;
His native shore, where soft-eyed Pity stays,
And Mercy lends the crown her brightest rays.
Condemn'd, forlorn-ah! let me spare thy breast,
Condemn'd, when hope delusive called me blest ;
Condemn'd, when love prevail'd in all thy charms,
Condemn'd, to feel no more thy rapt'rous arms;
No more to revel in thy soft'ning eye;
Mo more to tell my anguish, till I die.
Is this a bridal-night-yon fury-face
But ill-adorns the nuptial's hallow'd place!
Yon scaffold is my couch! yet all were sweet,
Could I once more thy dear embraces meet ;
Sigh all my soul upon thy breast away,
And all my former vows in solemn ardour say:
Yet that's denied! inhuman fiends, again
Let André banquet on the charming pain,
The dreadful luxury of parting love,
"Tween life and death, in one calm moment prove; Count all the minutes with ecstatic haste,
And sigh no more when the last minute's past.
Yet what is life? a puny pageant all,
Nor would I grudge, ye cruel heav'ns, to fall;
But ah! yon phantom of my promised bliss
Becks to her arms, and lingers on my peace;
Lo! her poor bosom pants with fiercest woes !
Her radiant tress in frantic frenzy flows;
Her eyes brimfull, their precious torrents spend,
Yes, I will fly, and bid thy mourning end:
Waft in one kiss my ardent soul to thine,
And then expire in ecstacy divine.
Fond, foolish struggle, can thy shrivell'd hand
Force the strong steel, the ruthless watch withstand ?
Can thy weak nerves that tremble o'er this page,
O'ercome the despot's dire infernal rage?
O! could the frame invisibly decay,
And like the spirit urge its pathless way;
Soon would I gain Britannia's happy strand,
And bind my heart to her's with Rapture's roseate band.
-The tyrant comes-sad lines my sorrows tell,
And she will bless this hand that writes a long farewell.
ARISE! my Muse! and break the bands of sleep,
Now when the dawn with orient smile attends
The dewy tracks of morn, and the bright sun
Yokes his æthereal coursers to the car
That whirls aloft the potency of fire,
As yet unken'd, save, by effulgence dim,
That gilds with purple blush the glitt'ring kiss
Of Blomius! hill beloved, where oft the muse
Was wont to wander yon majestic slope
Of ridgy rocks, where tumbling down amain
The cataract pours its hoary deluge, there
She pored on Nature, or with frenzied eye,
Saw native Oreads mount the steep sublime,
And like the mellow horn, in cadence sweet,
Call notes, responsive to the wild waves dash
Against the jutting shore! Hail! happy morn,
Thrice hail ambrosial eves, when the fresh gale
Of honied fragrance woo'd my fervid lip,
Or sigh'd, enamour'd, on my roseate cheek,
When the first dawn appear'd! Bear witness you!
For you alone my ecstacy could know!
How oft I called mild Hesper to return,
When by his argent wand of light, the valves
Of day were shut with foldings black conceal'd
Of ebon bars, and the portcullis huge
Of a drear cloud, whose sable scenery, caught
One parting smile of day's envermeil'd face!
Then would I dream of scenes romantic there,
In visionary gleam of inward thought,
New figures trace, unseen by waking eye!
Muse! tell the tale of my enraptur'd breast,
When from a fleecy cloud of amber hue,
A nymph descending met my ravish'd sight;
Her front with lightnings wreath'd, her glowing waist
Bound with the varying rainbow's lucid zone.
In a gold clasp her copious tresses join'd,
And flow'd luxuriant on her crimson robe,
Whose ample folds, by wildest nature form'd,
Devoid of attic grace and cut succinct,
Swept the blue air with winnowing scope, and blazed
In wond'rous colours changing ever new,
To molibean tint, or saffron glow;
Tyrian, or soft Ionian, and each cast,
Famed in the east, ripe store of mimic dyes!
Full many a sylph her airy sojourn shared,
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