Unheard-of means shall straight remove
All bars that hinder woman's love;
So if my heart is fix'd on flight,
You may as well wish me good night.
As flies, though sure to scorch their frame,
Will wanton through the taper's flame;
So love all danger will despise,
Resistless rushing to its prize;
Then if my mind is fix'd on flight,
You may as well wish me good night.
When I my purpose chuse to keep,
Severity, alas! may sleep:
A lover's palm, like wax, is warm,
'Tis melting warm; his wish is fire;
No obstacles his patience tire;
But head will plot, and hand perform ;
His eyes can talk; his careful feet
Are silence-shod, your ears to cheat;
And as my mind is fix'd on flight,
You may as well wish me good night.
SOFT star! approaching slowly on the sky With solemn march, if e'er beneath thy beam, Darkling, I heav'd the deep-impassion'd sigh, Or bade the silent tear of feeling stream;
If e'er, with fancy's magic voice, I call'd
Ten thousand sprites to tend thy sapphire car,
If e'er by rushing darkness unappall'd,
I follow'd thy receding light afar ;
Be gracious, now :-to this love-labour'd bow'r
With thy bright clue conduct my promis'd fair,
Full on her face thy yellow radiance pour,
And gild the flowing tissue of her hair;
So shall the nightingale, her note prolong,
Wild-warbling to thine ear our bridal-song!
FRANCIS, EARL OF MOIRA,* &c.
HOW many with'ring years of dull despair,
Have o'er my fated front relentless roll'd,
Since first, beneath a Moira's partial care,
My happier moments way'd their wings of gold!
Ah me! and must I never more behold
The glorious orb of day in gladness rise?
No more salute, with rapture-beaming eyes,
The glimmering star that shuts the shepherd's fold ?
No more! if led not by thy lenient hand,
To the lone hermitage of learned ease,
Where pensive joy may tenderly expand
His blooms, sore-shatter'd by the blighting breeze;
And a new, mental Eden, by degrees,
Bud forth, best patron! at thy soft command!
* To the munificence of this amiable and accomplished nobleman the author is indebted for more unaltered favour, than can be repaid by the trifling effusions of poetical fancy.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
JOHN HILY ADDINGTON.
A SWAIN, within whose native vale alone,
Ere this blest time, was heard his simple reed,
Ambitious now, of glory's dazzling meed,
Essays the lofty lyre's majestic tone;
Feeling, perchance, nor Fancy, yet are fled,
Nor lost the charms that from their influence spring:
For those celestial forms were wont to fling,
Their faery visions o'er my youthful head;
But where amid Expression's copious store,
For raptur'd thought fit diction may I find?
How dress th' exuberance of my grateful mind,
In chaste, though glowing terms, untried before?
Patron and pride! o'er my unvarying check,
No blush for servile flatt'ry shall arise;
Yet ah! while timid doubts, in vain, disguise
The modest soul,-let meaning Silence speak;
Thou canst not, surely, Atticus! refuse
That poor, frail tribute of th' indebted Muse!
THE shadowy semblance, lo! is past!--
Loudly yells the midnight blast,
And, hark! the death-bell's sullen toli
Strikes upon my shrinking soul!
Whither, whither am I led ?
"To the drear caverns of the dead.
Here with murder shalt thou dwell;
Mark yon bleeding phantom well:
Know you not the wound you gave,
You was bloody, he was brave;
In the dark you dealt the blow,
With a hatchet fell'd him low,
His cleft head distended wide,
Hideous hangs upon each side.
Why dost thou enwrithing start,
'Gainst thy ribs why knocks thy heart?
Why, to the taper's glimmering blue,
Gleams thy front with clammy dew?
Welcome to his cell below,
Thou with thy murder'd host must go!"
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