•Printed in the private volume only. ↑ These stanzas were only printed in the private volume. By the rules of romance, While my blood is thus warm To mix in the Platonists' school; Was my passion so pure, Thy mistress would think me a fool. 8. And if I should shun Every woman for one, Whose image must fill my whole breast Whom I must prefer, And sigh but for her What an insult 'twould be to the rest! • This motto was inserted in the first edition of Hours of Idleness To mask Jetestation or fear; Give me the soft sigh, Whilst the soul-telling eye Is dimm'd for a time with a Tear. 3. Mild Charity's glow, To us mortals below, Shows the soul from barbarity clear; Compassion will melt Where this virtue is felt, And its dew is diffused in a Tear. 4. The man doom'd to sail With the blast of the gale, Through billows Atlantic to steer, As he bends o'er the wave Which may soon be his grave, The green sparkles bright with a Tear. 5. The soldier braves death For a fanciful wreath, In Glory's romantic career; But he raises the foe When in battle laid low, And bathes every wound with a Tear. 6. If with high-bounding pride Sweet scene of my youth! Loth to leave thee, I mourned, But thy spire was scarce seen through a Tear. 8. Though my vows I can pour To my Mary no more, My Mary to Love once so dear, In the shade of her bower I remember the hour She rewarded those vows with a Tear. 9. By another possest, Her name still my heart must revere: What I once thought was mine, And forgive her deceit with a Tear. 10. Ye friends of my heart, Ere from you I depart, This hope to my breast is most near: If again we shall meet In this rural retreat, May we meet, as we part, with a Tear. 11. When my soul wings her flight To the regions of night, • And my corse shall recline on its bier, As ye pass by the tomb Where my ashes consume, Oh! moisten their dust with a Tear. 12. May no marble bestow The splendour of woe *** And my body shall sleep on its bier.”—Private volume. Dear simple girl, those flattering arts, Mere phantoms of thine own creation; For he who views that witching grace, Which from our sex demands such praises, But envy in the other raises: Then he who tells thee of thy beauty, Believe me, only does his duty: Ah! fly not from the candid vouth; THE CORNELIAN ‡. 1. No specious splendour of this stone Endears it to my memory ever; With lustre only once it shone, And blushes modest as the giver. 2. July, 1804. Some, who can sneer at friendship's ties, Have for my weakness oft reproved me; Found only in the private volume. † Only printed in the private volume. To young Eddleston. This poem is only found in the private Yet still the simple gift I prize,For I am sure the giver loved me. 3. He offer'd it with downcast look, This pledge attentively I view'd, And sparkling as I held it near, Methought one drop the stone bedew'd, And ever since I've loved a tear. 5. Still, to adorn his humble youth, Nor wealth nor birth their treasures yield; But he who seeks the flowers of truth, Must quit the garden for the field. 6. 'Tis not the plant uprear'd in sloth, Which beauty shows, and sheds perfume; The flowers which yield the most of both In Nature's wild luxuriance bloom. 7. Had Fortune aided Nature's care, 8. But had the goddess clearly seen, His form had fix'd her fickle breast; Her countless hoards would his have been, And none remain'd to give the rest. ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY,* COUSIN TO THE AUTHOR, AND VERY DEAR TO HIMt. 1. Hush'd are the winds, and still the evening gloom, Not e'en a zephyr, wanders through the grove, Whilst I return to view my Margaret's tomb, And scatter flowers on the dust I love. 2. Within this narrow cell reclines her clay, Oh! could that King of Terrors pity feel, Or Heaven reverse the dread decrees of fate! Not here the mourner would his grief reveal, Not here the muse her virtues would relate. 4. But wherefore weep? her matchless spirit soars Beyond where splendid shines the orb of day; And weeping angels lead her to those bowers Where endless pleasures virtue's deeds repay. 5. And shall presumptuous mortals heaven arraign, • Miss Parker. To these stanzas, which are from the private volume, the following note was attached: The author claims the indulgence of the reader more for this piece than, perhaps, any other in the collection; but as it Was written at an earlier period than the rest (being composed at the age of fourteen.) and his first essay, he preferred anhmitting it to the indulgence of his friends in its present state, to making either addition or altera Jon.' 6. Yet is remembrance of those virtues dear, TO EMMA*. 1. Since now the hour is come at last, Alas! that pang will be severe, Which bids us part to meet no more, Which tears me far from one so dear, Departing for a distant shore. 3. Well we have pass'd some happy hours, And joy will mingle with our tears; When thinking on these ancient towers, The shelter of our infant years; 4. Where from the gothic casement's height. We view'd the lake, the park, the dale, And still, though tears obstruct our sight. We lingering look a last farewell. 5. O'er fields through which we used to run, Whilst I, admiring, too remiss, It dared to give your slumbering eyes: See still the little painted bark, In which I row'd you o'er the lake, See there, high waving o'er the park, The elm I clamber'd for your sake. 8. These times are past-our joys are gone, You leave me, leave this happy vale; These scenes I must retrace alone; Without thee what will they avail? 9. Who can conceive, who has not proved, The anguish of a last embrace? When, torn from all you fondly loved, You bid a long adieu to peace. 10. This is the deepest of our woes, For this these tears our cheeks bedew ; This is of love the final close, Oh, God, the fondest, last adieu! AN OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE. DELIVERED PREVIOUS TO THE PERFORMANCE OF "THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE" AT A PRIVATE THEATRE. Since the refinement of this polish'd ago • This poem is inserted from the private volume. Since now to please with purer scenes we seek, No COOKE, no KEMBLE, can salute you here, Who hopes, yet almost dreads, to meet your praise; ON THE DEATH OF MR. FOX. OH, factious viper! whose envenom'd tooth Or round our statesman wind her gloomy veil. • Our. In the private volume, their. ↑ Cangor In the private volume, critic. "In the Morning Post."-Private volume. "For insertion in the Morning Chronicle," was here added in the rivate volume. For whom, at last, e'en hostile nations groan, While friends and foes alike his talents own; Fox shall in Britain's future annals shine, Nor e'en to PITT the patriot's palm resign; Which Envy, wearing Candor's sacred mask, For PITT, and PITT alone, has dared to ask. TO M. S. G.* 1. WHENE'ER I view those lips of thine Their hue invites my fervent kiss; Yet I forego that bliss divine, Alas! it were unhallow'd bliss. 2. Whene er I dream of that pure breast, For that, would banish its repose. A glance from thy soul-searching eye 4. I ne'er have told my love, yet thou No! for thou never canst be mine, Then let the secret fire consume, 7. I will not ease my tortured heart, Each thought presumptuous I resign. 8. Yes! yield those lips, for which I'd brave Yes! yield that breast, to seek despair 10. At least from guilt shalt thou be free, TO CAROLINE. 1. THINK'ST thou I saw thy beauteous eyes, Only printed in the private volume. † Printed only in the private volume. |