Quintilian might have praised: still I perceive
Nearer approach to purity in Burke,
Tho' not the full accession to that grace,
That chaste simplicity, which is the last
And best attainment author can possess.
STANZAS ON LOVE AND INDIFFERENCE.
From PSYCHE, a Poem, by Mrs. TIGHE
THEN pleasure sparkles in the cup
of youth,
And the gay hours on downy wing advance,
Oh! then 'tis sweet to hear the lip of Truth
Breathe the soft vows of love, sweet to entrance
The raptured soul by intermingling glance
Of mutual bliss; sweet amid roseate bowers,
Led by the hand of love, to weave the dance,
Or unmolested crop life's fairy flowers,
Or bask in joy's bright sun through calm unclouded hours.
Yet they, who light of heart in May-day pride
Meet love with smiles and gaily amorous song,
(Though he their softest pleasures may provide,
Even then when pleasures in full concert throng),
They cannot know with what enchantment strong
He steals upon the tender suffering soul,
What gently-soothing charms to him belong,
How melting sorrow owns his soft control,
Subsiding passions hushed in milder waves to roll.
When vexed by cares and harassed by distress,
The storms of fortune chill thy soul with dread,
Let Love, consoling Love! still sweetly bless,
And his assuasive balm benignly shed:
His downy plumage o'er thy pillow spread,
Shall lull thy weeping sorrows to repose;
To Love the tender heart hath ever fled,
As on its mother s breast the infant throws
Its sobbing face, and there in sleep forgets its woes.
Oh! fondly cherish then the lovely plant,
Which lenient Heaven hath given thy pains to ease;
Its lustre shall thy summer hours enchant,
And load with fragrance every prosperous breeze;
And when rude Winter shall thy roses seize,
When nought through all thy bowers but thorns remain,
This still with undeciduous charms shall please,
Screen from the blast, and shelter from the rain,
And still with verdure cheer the desolated plain.
Through the hard season Love with plaintive note
Like the kind red-breast tenderly shall sing,
Which swells 'mid dreary snows its tuneful throat,
Brushing the cold dews from its shivering wing,
With cheerful promise of returning Spring
To the mute tenants of the leafless grove.
Guard thy best treasure from the venom'd sting
Of baneful peevishness; oh! never prove
How soon ill-temper's power can banish gentle Love!
Repentance may the storms of passion chase,
And Love, who shrunk affrighted from the blast,
May hush his just complaints in soft embrace,
And smiling wipe his tearful eye at last :
Yet when the wind's rude violence is past,
Look what a wreck the scattered fields display!
See on the ground the withering blossoms cast!
And hear sad Philomel with piteous lay
Deplore the tempest's rage that swept her young away.
The tears capricious Beauty loves to shed,
The pouting lip, the sullen silent tongue,
May wake the impassioned Lover's tender dread,
And touch the spring that clasps his soul so strong;
But ah, beware! the gentle power too long
Will not endure the frown of angry strife;
He shuns contention, and the gloomy throng
Who blast the joys of calm domestic life,
And flies when Discord shakes her brand with quarrels rife.
Oh! he will tell you that these quarrels bring
The ruin, not renewal of his flame :
If oft repeated, lo! on rapid wing
He flies to hide his fair but tender frame;
From violence, reproach, or peevish blame
Irrevocably flies. Lament in vain!
Indifference comes the abandoned heart to claim,
Asserts for ever her repulsive reign,
Close followed by Disgust and all her chilling train.
Indifference, dreadful power! what art shall save
The good so cherished from thy grasping hand?
How shall young Love escape the untimely grave
Thy treacherous arts prepare? or how withstand
The insidious foe, who with her leaden band
Enchains the thoughtless, slumbering deity?
Ah, never more to wake! or e'er expand
His golden pinions to the breezy sky,
Or open to the sun his dim and languid eye.
Who can describe the hopeless, silent pang
With which the gentle heart first marks her sway?
Eyes the sure progress of her icy fang
Resistless, slowly fastening on her prey;
Sees Rapture's brilliant colours fade away,
And all the glow of beaming sympathy;
Anxious to watch the cold averted ray
That speaks no more to the fond meeting eye
Enchanting tales of love, and tenderness, and joy.
Too faithful heart! thou never canst retrieve
Thy withered hopes: conceal the cruel pain!
O'er thy lost treasure still in silence grieve;
But never to the unfeeling ear complain:
From fruitless struggles dearly bought refrain!
Submit at once-the bitter task resign,
Nor watch and fan the expiring flame in vain ;
Patience, consoling maid, may yet be thine,
Go seek her quiet cell, and hear her voice divine!
While still, in undisturbed repose,
Uninjured lies the future birth;
And Ignorance, with sceptic eye,
Hope's patient smile shall wondering view; Or mock her fond credulity,
As her soft tears the spot bedew.
Sweet smile of hope, delicious tear!
The sun the shower indeed shall come;
The promised verdant shoot appear,
And Nature bid her blossoms bloom.
And thou, O virgin Queen of Spring!
Shalt, from thy dark and lowly bed,
Bursting thy green sheath's silken string,
Unveil thy charms, and perfume shed;
Unfold thy robes of purest white,
Unsullied from their darksome grave,
And thy soft petal's silvery light
In the mild breeze unfettered wave.
So Faith shall seek the lowly dust
Where humble Sorrow loves to lie,
And bid her thus her hopes entrust,
And watch with patient, cheerful eye;
And bear the long, cold, wintry night,
And bear her own degraded doom,
And wait till Heaven's reviving light,
Eternal spring shall burst the gloom.
From the Plants, Canto IV. By WILLIAM TIGHE, Esq.
NOME, Fancy, from the Hesperian isles, or where
Elysian flowers perfume the eternal spring,
Dip thy light pencil in each fairy hue
And paint the living scene.-Lo! where the dates
Hang golden clusters to the cloudless sky;
And careless Arabs quaff the cooling breath
Of night, or slumber unconfined beneath
The stars which glitter through their verdant palms!
Lo! where rich cocoas wave, in boundless groves,
Uncultured treasures o'er the coral strand,
And sons of nature in the balmy shade
Twine the fantastic dance from furrowed plains
Remote, and toils incessant of the plough!
The sun towards Cancer from the line oblique
Hath shaped his fiery course; the Arabian shores
And Persian feel the sultry vapours drink
Their scanty fountains: the veiled nymph returns,
Her vase unmoistened, from the dusty well.
Then forth from Mascat or from Basra crowd
The joyous caravans: each patient line
Of camels, docile to the leader's voice,
Retracing o'er the sand its annual course,
To cooler hills, and ever-blooming shade
Restores the troop, whom, in his playful guise,
Gay Labour meets; to mount the trunk erect
Spring gracefully the pliant youth, or gain
With circling cords the taper stem's ascent.
Down, down are showered the honied dates mature,
Or in the basket's pensile store descend.
Prepared by vertical and ardent suns
The fruit ambrosial swells the public wealth;
Or from the press distils its amber stream
Luxurious nectar of Arabian kings.
Meantime the fountain and the breeze invite,
Where spreads the tamarind, where the cassia droops,
Or where the silver-blossom'd almond greets
The pale mimosa, with impervious shade
Of cypress o'erhung: fresh from the rill
The native lymph, or from suspended jars
More cool, delights; where no exotic wines
Inebriate, no smoking viands pall
The languid guest; where for the festive choir
Perchance the melon or the liberal grape,
Or purple-celled pomegranate crowns the board;
Or if the palm alone her clusters yield,
Not less the Persian Muse her decent lyre
Attunes, not less the freedom of her lay
Winds through the unbounded shade and echoing rocks. Now, Hafiz, is thy light and happier song
Borne on the fragrant gale: now Saadi pours
The moral lesson; or in arduous flight
The rich Ferdousi sweeps the regal chords.
The cunning artist, and the loud buffoon, The mimic scene, the cymbals and the dance
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