Nor e'er will the notes from their tenderness change, Nor e'er will the music of Oberon die. So when I am in a voluptuous vein, I pillow my head on the sweets of the rose, And list to the tale of the wreath, and the chain, Till its echoes depart; then I sink to repose. Adieu! valiant Eric! with joy thou art crown'd, ΤΟ HADST thou lived in days of old, Like the streaks across the sky, Of thy dark hair, that extends As the leaves of hellebore Turn to whence they sprung before. Full, and round like globes that rise Through sunny air. Add too, the sweetness Of thine ancle lightly turn'd: With those beauties scarce discern'd, Round about with eager pry. In the coolness of the morn. O, if thou hadst breathed then, Hadst thou lived when chivalry Lifted up her lance on high, Tell me what thou wouldst have been? Of thy broider'd-floating vest Covering half thine ivory breast: Has placed a golden cuirass there, Like sunbeams in a cloudlet nested, O'er his loins, his trappings glow Like the northern lights on snow. Alas! thou this wilt never do: TO HOPE. WHEN by my solitary hearth I sit, And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; When no fair dreams before my "mind's eye" flit, And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; Sweet Hope! ethereal balm upon me shed, Whene'er I wander, at the fall of night, Where woven boughs shut out the moon's bright ray, Should sad Despondency my musings fright, And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away, Peep with the moonbeams through the leafy roof, And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof. Should Disappointment, parent of Despair, Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart: Whene'er the fate of those I hold most dear Should e'er unhappy love my bosom pain, To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air! In the long vista of the years to roll, Let me not see our country's honour fade! O let me see our land retain her soul! Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom's shade. From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shedBeneath thy pinions canopy my head! Let me not see the patriot's high bequest, And as, in sparkling majesty, a star Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud; Brightening the half-veil'd face of heaven afar: So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, Sweet Hope! celestial influence round me shed, Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head. February, 1815. IMITATION OF SPENSER. Now morning from her orient chamber came Which round its marge reflected woven bowers, There the kingfisher saw his plumage bright, Ah! could I tell the wonders of an isle That in that fairest lake had placed been, I could e'en Dido of her grief beguile; Or rob from aged Lear his bitter teen : For sure so fair a place was never seen Of all that ever charm'd romantic eye : It seem'd an emerald in the silver sheen Of the bright waters; or as when on high, Through clouds of fleecy white, laughs the coerulean sky. And all around it dipp'd luxuriously Slopings of verdure through the glossy tide, |