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Beware a speedy friend, the Arabian said,
And wisely was it he advised distrust:
The flower that blossoms earliest fades the first. Look at yon Oak that lifts its stately head, And dallies with the autumnal storm, whose rage
Tempests the ocean waves; slowly it rose,
And timidly did its light leaves disclose,
They to the summer cautiously expand,
And by the warmer sun and season bland
FAREWELL my home, my home no longer now,
Witness of many a calm and happy day; And thou fair eminence, upon whose brow
Dwells the last sunshine of the evening ray, Farewell! Mine eyes no longer shall pursue
The western sun beyond the utmost height,
When slowly he forsakes the fields of light.
As from this western wiudow dear, I lean,
Listening, the while I watch the placid scene, The martins Twittering underneath the shied. Farewell, my home! where many a day has past In joys whose loved remembrance long shail last.
TO A GOOSE.
If thou didst feed on western plains of yore;
Or waddle wide with flat and flabby feet Over some Cambrian mountain's plashy moor;
Or tind in farmer's yard a safe retreat
From gypsey thieves, and foxes sly and fleet; If thy grey quills, by law yer guided, trace Deeds big will ruin to some wretched race,
Or love-sick poet's sonnet, sad and sweet,
Wailing the rigour of his lady fair;
Departed goose! I neither know nor care.
Porlock, thy verdant vale so fair to sight,
Thy lofty hills with fern and furze so brown,
The waters that so musical roll down Thy woody glens, the traveller with delight
Recalls to memory, and the channel grey
Circling its surges in thy level bay ;Porlock, I also shall forget Uiee not,
Here by the unwelcome summer rain confined;
And often shall hercafter call to mind How here, a patient prisoner, 't was my lot To wear the lonely, lingering close of day,
Making my Sonnet by the alchouse fire,
Whilst Idleness and Solitude inspire
August 9, 1799.
I MARVEL not, O sun! that unto thee
prayers of mingled awe and love ; For like a God thou art, and on thy way Of glory sheddest with benignant ray,
Beauty, and life, and joyance from above.
No longer let these mists thy radiance shroud, These cold raw mists that chill the comfortless day; But shed thy splendour through the opening cloud
And cheer the carth once more. The languid tlowers Lie odourless, bent down with heavy rain,
Earth asks thy presence, saturate with showers! O Lord of Light! put forth thy beams again,
For damp and cheerless are the gloomy hours.
vessel sails adown the tide, To some far distant and adventurous bound; The sailors' busy cries from side to side
Pealing among the echoing rocks resound:
Joyful they enter on their ocean way,
And know no care beyond the present day.
Who sorrows for a child or husbaud there? Who at the howling of the midnight wind
Will wake and tremble in ber boding prayer! So may her voice be lieard, and Heaven be kind! Go, gallant ship, and be thy fortune fair!
Fair be thy fortunes in the distant land,
and friend! Go to the Eastern world, and may the hand
Of Heaven its blessing on thy labour send. And may I, if we ever more should meet,
See thee with aftluence to thiy native sliore Return'd;-I need not pray that I may greet
The same untainted goodness as before. Long years must intervene before that day;
And what the changes lleaven to each may send,
It boots not now to bode! Oh carly friend ! Assured, no distance e'cr can wcar away Esteem long rooted, and no change remove The dear remembrance of the friend we love.
O God have mercy in this dreadful hour
On the poor mariner! in comfort here
Safe shelter'd as I am, I almost fear 'The blast that rages with resistless power.
What were it now to toss upon the waves, The maddend waves, and know no succour near; The howling of the storm alone to hear,
And the wild sea that to the tempest raves, To gaze
amid the horrors of the night And only see the billow's gleaming light;
And in the dread of death to think of her
Heaven's vengeance on thy sin: Must thou be told
The CRIME it is to paint DIVINITY?
Dim and defiled, as there they needs must be,
knee. Fairer than VENUS, DAUGHTER OF TUE SEA.
She comes majestic with her swelling sails,
The gallant bark! along her watery way Homeward she drives before the favouring gales;
Now tlirting at their length the streamers play, And now they ripple with the ruftling breeze,
Hark to the sailors' shouts! the rocks rebound,
Thundering in echoes to the joyful sound. Long have they voyaged o'er the distant seas,
And what a heart-delight they feel at last,
So many toils, so many dangers past, To view the port desired, he only knows
Who on the stormy deep for many a day
Hath tost, a weary of his ocean way, And watch'd, all anxious, every wind that blows.
A WRINKLED, crabbed man they picture thee,
Old Winter, with a rugged beard as grey
Close muftled up, and on thy dreary way,
Old Winter! seated in thy great-arm d chair, Watcliing the children at their Christmas mirth,
Or circled by them as thy lips declare Some merry jest or tale of murder dire,
Or troubled spirit that disturbs the night, Pausing at times to rouse the mouldering fire, Or taste the old October brown and bright.
HE PROVES THE EXISTENCE OF A SOUL FROM
HIS LOVE FOR DELIA. Some have denied a soul! THEY NEVER LOVED. Far from my Delia now by fate removed,
At home, abroad, 1 view her every wlicre;
My Godiless-Plaid, my OMNIPRESENT FAIR,
Closes the SABLE CURTAINS of the night,
SUN OF MY SLUMBERS, on my dazzled sight
The surge of music o'er my wavy brain.
Far, far from her my Body drags its chain, But sure with Delia I exist A SOUL!
THE AMATORY POEMS OF ABEL
THE POET EXPRESSES HIS FEELINGS RESPECT
ING A PORTRAIT IN DELIA'S PARLOUR.
Who hangs in Delia's parlour! For whene'er
And lie unblamed may fize upon my FAIR,
I envy him! and jealous fear alarms,
Lest the strong glance of those divinest charms
When MARBLE MELTED in Pygmalion's arms.
DELIA AT PLAY. She held a Cup and Ball of Ivory white,
Less while the Ivory than her snowy hand !
Enrapi I watchid her from my secret stand, As now, inteni, in innocent delight,
Her taper fingers twirl'd the giddy ball, Now tost it, following still with Eagle sight,
Now on the pointed end infix'd its fall. Marking her sport I mused, and musing sighd, Meibought the ball she play'd with was my HEART! (Alas! that Sport like that should be her pride!) And clic keen point which stedfast still she eyed
Wherewith lo pierce il, that was Cupid's dart; Shall I not then the cruel Fair condeinn Who on that durt IMPALES my BusOM'S GEM?
TO A PAINTER ATTEMPTING DELIA'S
The DIAMOND, that athiwari the trper'd ball
Yet if it strove to paint my Angel's eye,
THE POET RELATES HOW HE OBTAINED
DELIA'S POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 'T is mioc! what accents can my joy declare?
Blest be the pressure of the thronging rout! Blest be the land so lasty of
That left the templing corner hanging out! I envy not the joy the pilgrim feels,
After long travel to some distant shrine, When at the relic of his saint he kueels,
For Delia's POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF IS MINE. When first will filching finge
I drew near, keen lope slot (reinulous trougli every vein, And when the finishii deed removed my fear,
Scarce could my bounding lieart its joy contain. What though the Eilitli Cominandment rose to mind,
11 only served a moment's qualm to more; For thefis like this it could not be desigua, The Eigluh Commandment was NOT MADE FOR LOVE!
Cupid lias strung from you, O tresses fine,
Wherewith the urchin angled for my HEART.
That from the silk-worm, self-interr'd, proceed; Dip in her cheek your GOSSAMERY BRUSII,
Fine as the GLEAMY Gossames that spreads And with its bloom of beauty tinge TIE ROSE.
Its filmy web-work o'er the tangled mead.
llover around her lips on rainbow wing,
Load from her honeyed breath your viewless feet, Bear thence a richer fragrance for the Spring,
And make the lily and the violet sweet.
Yet with these tresses Cupid's power elate
My captive heart has handcuff d in a chain,
THAT BEARS BRITANNIA'S TO UNDERS O'ER THE MAIX.
Ye GNOMES, whose toil through many a dateless year
Jis nurture to the infant gem supplies,
To ripen in the SUN OF DELIA'S EYES.
The Sylpas that round her radiant locks repair,
In flowing lustre bathe their brightening wings : And ELFIN MINSTRELS with assiduous care
The ringlets rob for FAERY FIDDLE-STRINGS.
ye who bathe in Etna's lava springs, Spirits of fire! to see my love advance;
THE POET RELATES HOW HE STOLE À LOCK Fly, SALAMANDERS, on Asbestos' wings,
OF DELIA'S HAIR, AND HER ANGER. To wanton in my Delia's fiery glance.
On! be the day accurst that gave me birth! She weeps, she weeps! her eye with anguish swells,
Ye Seas, to swallow me in kindness rise ! Some tale of sorrow melts
Fall on me, Mountains! and thou merciful Earth, FEELING GIRL!
my Nympas! catch the tears, and in your lucid shells
Opeu, and hide me from my Delia's eyes! Enclose them, EMBRYOS OF THE ORIENT PEARL.
Let universal Chaos now return, She sings! the Nightingale with envy hears,
Now let the central fires their prison burst,
And Earth and NEAVEN and air and ocean burnThe CUERUBIM bends from his starry throne,
For Delia FROWNS-SHE FROWNS, and I am curst.' And motionless are stopt the attentive SPHERES, To hear more heavenly music than their own.
Oh! I could dare the fury of the fight, Cease, Delia, cease! for all the ANGEL TORONG,
Where hostile millions sought my single life;
Would storm VOLCANO BATTERIES with delight,
And grapple with GRIM DEATH in glorious strife. Lest, stung to envy, they should break their lyres.
Oh! I could brave the bolts of angry Jove,
When ceaseless lightnings fire the midnight skies; Cease, ere my senses are to madness driven
What is his wrath to that of HER I love?
What is his LIGHTNING to my Delia's EYES?
Go, fatal lock! I cast thee to the wind;
Ye serpent curls, ye poison-tendrils, 40-
woe! Tue comb between whose ivory teeth slie strains Seize the consT CURLs, ye Furies, as they lly! The straitening curls of gold so beamy bright,
Demons of darkness, cuard the infernal roll, Not Spotless merely from the touch remains,
That thence your cruel vengeance when I die, But issues forth more pure, more milky white.
May knit the KNOTS OF TORTURE for my soul.
Brother, thou wert strong in youth!
Uohappy man was he
Unhappy man was he
And he wlio from thy hand
Received the calumet
When the Evil Spirits seized thee, Brother, we were sad at heart:
We bade the Jongler come
And briog his magic aid; We circled thee in mystic dance, With songs and shouts and cries, To free thee from their power.
Brother, but in vain we strove, The number of thy days was full.
THE PERUVIAN'S DIRGE OVER THE BODY
OF HIS FATHER.
Rest in peace, my Father, rest!
From the Stranger's field of death.
I bless thee, O Wife of the Sun,
While at the pious task
Thy votary toil'd in fear.
But didst thou not sce my toil,
O Wife of the visible God?
Thou sittest amongst us on thy mat, The bear-skin from thy shoulder langs, Thy feet are sandal'd ready for the way.
Those are the unfatiguable feet
Those are the lips that late
Thunder'd the yell of war;
Those lips are silent now,
Wretched, my Father, thy life!
All day for another he toils;
Overwearied at night he lies down.
My Father! for then thou werı free.
Bore its part of the general task;
Ye brought the harvest home,
As all in the labour had shared,
Hark! hark! in the howl of the wind
The shout of the battle, the clang of their drums,
The horsemen are met, and the shock of the fight
Is the blast that disbranches the wood.
Behold from the clouds of their power
And the thunder that stakes the broad pavement of
And the darkness that quenches the day!
Ye Souls of our Fathers, be brave!
Ye shrunk not before the invaders on carih,
Ye trembled not then at their weapons of fire,
Brave Spirits, ye tremble pot now!
We gaze on your warfare in hope,
We send up our shouts to encourage your arms!
Lift the lance of your vengeance, O Fathers ! with force,
your country strike home! We adore thee with anguish and groans.
Remember the land was your own
When the Sons of Destruction came over the seas;
That the old fell asleep in the fulluess of days,
And their children wept over their graves,
Till the Strangers came into the land
With tongues of deceit and with wcapons of fire :
Then the strength of the people in youth was cut off,
And the father wept over his son.
It thickens—the tumult of fight!
Louder and louder the blast of the battle is heard!
Remember the wrongs that your country endures !
Remember the fields of
Joy! joy! for the Strangers recoil, -
They give way,--they retreat to the land of their life!
Pursue them! pursue tbem! remember your wrongs! Where the Strangers never shall come!
Let your lances be drunk with their wounds. 1799
The Souls of your wives shall rejoice
As they welcome you back to your Íslands of Bliss; SONG OF THE ARAUCANS
And the breeze that refreshes the toil-Uirobbing brow
Waft thither the song of your praise.
1799. The storm-cloud grows deeper above; Araucans! the tempest is ripe in the sky;
SONG OF THE CHIKKASAH WIDOW. Our forefathers come from their Islands of Bliss, They come to the war of the winds.
'T was the voice of my husband that came on the gale.
The unappeased Spirit in anger complains! The Souls of the Strangers are there,
Rest, rest Ollanahta, be still! In their garments of darkness they ride through the
The day of revenge is at hand. heaven; Yon cloud that rolls luridly over the hill
The stake is made ready, the captives shall die; Is red with their weapons of fire.
To-morrow the song of their death shalt thou hear, "Respecting storms, the people of Chili are of opioion that, the
To-morrow thy widow shall wield deparied souls are returning from their abode beyond the sea to as- The kuife and the fire;-be at rest! sist their relations and friends. Accordingly, when it thunders over tbe mountains, they tbink that the souls of their forefathers are The vengeance of anguish shall soon liave its course, taken in an engagement with those of the Spaniarus. The roaring The fountains of grief and of fury shall flow.of the winds they take to be the noise of horsemen attacking one
I will think, Ollanahta! of thee, another, the bowling of the tempest for the beating of drums, and the claps of tbonder for the discharge of miskets and cannons.- Will remember the days of our love. When the wind drives the clouds towards the possessions of the Spaniards, they rejoice that the souls of their forefathers have re- Ollanahta, all day by thy war-pole I sat, pulsed those of their enemies, and call out aloud to them 10 gira Where idly thy hatchet of battle is hung; ibem do quarter. When the contrary bappeus, they are troubled und dejected, and encourage the yielding souls to rally their forces,
I gazed on the bow of thy strength and summon up the last remains of their strength. --- NEIXER.
As it waved on the stream of the wind.