LOVE. WRITTEN IN 1800. SWEET power of Love! no idle fluttering boy When pines the lonely bosom, doom'd to know Till, warm'd by thee, it learns again to feel. To all the generous softness of the soul. Ah doubly blest the heart that wakes to prove From some congenial breast the dear return of Love! WRITTEN IN THE ISLE OF SKY, IN 1800. Ar eve, beside the ringlet's haunted green And there I view, in many a figur'd train, The marshall'd hordes of sea-birds leave the main, And o'er the dark-brown moors hoarse-shrieking pass. Next in prophetic pomp along the heath I see dim forms their shadowy bands arrange, Which seem to mingle in encounter strange, To work with glimmering blades the work of death: In fancy's eye their meteor falchions glare; But, when I move, the hosts all melt in liquid air. ΤΟ THE SETTING SUN. WRITTEN IN THE ISLE OF IONA, IN 1800. FAIR light of heaven! where is thy couch of rest? That rises mid the waters of the west. To spirits of the dead who round thee throng, And chaunt in concert shrill thine evening song, Whose magic sound the murmuring ocean stills: Calm is thy rest amid these fields so green, Where never breathes the deep heart-rending sigh, Like the lone lamp that lights the sullen tomb, SERENITY OF CHILDHOOD. In the sweet morn of life, when health and joy Ah! who could dream what woes the heart annoy? Which fans the wild-wood music on the ear; The heart's slow grief, which wastes the child of woe, THE MEMORY OF THE PAST. ALAS, that fancy's pencil still pourtrays A fairer scene than ever nature drew! By contrast vain, impairs our present joys; And softer tints than ever nature wears. Lo! now, to fancy, Teviot's vale appears Adorn'd with flowers of more enchanting hue With all the charms that infancy endears. Dear scenes! which grateful memory still employ, Why should you strive to blast the present joy? |