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WORKS 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 LORD BYRON. 
 
T.DAVISON, Lombard-street. 
 Whitefriars, Loudon. 
 
THE 
 
 WORKS 
 
 THE RIGHT HONORABLE 
 
 LORD BYRON. 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. IV. 
 
 ODE TO NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE— POEMS- 
 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE-STREET. 
 
 1815. 
 
 15S811 
 
T. DAVISON, Lombard-street, 
 Whitefriars. London. 
 

 1REASURF ROOM 
 CONTENTS 
 
 VOLUME IV. 
 
 Page 
 ODE TO NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE . . 3 
 
 Notes to the Ode . 15 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 I. Written in an Album 19 
 
 II. To * * * 21 
 
 HI. Stanzas .25 
 
 158811 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 IV. Stanzas 28 
 
 V. Written at Athens . . ... 35 
 
 VI. Written after swimming from Sestos to Abydos 36 
 
 VIL Song 39 
 
 VIII. Translation of a Greek war song ... 42 
 
 IX. Translation of a Romaic song . . . .46 
 
 X. Written beneath a Picture . . . . 50 
 
 XI. On Parting 52 
 
 XII. To Thyrza . .. . , . . 55 
 
 XIII. Stanzas ........ 60 
 
 XIV. To Thyrza 64 
 
 XV. Euthanasia . - 70 
 
 XVI. Stanzas 74 
 
 XVII. Stanzas 80 
 
 XVIII. On a Cornelian Heart which was broken . 84 
 
 XIX. To a youthful Friend 86 
 
 XX. To ****** .. M 93 
 
 XXI. From the Portuguese . . .97 
 XXII. Impromptu in Reply to a Friend . . 98 
 
 XXIII. Address on the opening of Drury-lane Theatre 99 
 
 XXIV. To Time ....... 105 
 
 O 
 
CONTENTS. VII 
 
 XXV. Translation of a Romaic Love Song . . 108 
 XXVI. A Song ....... 113 
 
 XXVII. Origin of Love 116 
 
 XXVIII. Remember him 117 
 
 XXIX. Lines inscribed upon a cup formed from a skull 122 
 
 XXX. To a Lady weeping ..... 125 
 
 XXXI. From the Turkish „ . . . .127 
 
 XXXII. To Genevra 130 
 
 XXXIII. To Genevra 132 
 
 XXXIV. Inscription on the Mon ument of a Newfoun d- 
 
 land Dog 134 
 
 XXXV. Farewell . .137 
 
 XXXVI. Verses on Sir P. Parker . , . . 139 
 Notes to the Poems ,143 
 
 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 She walks in beauty 145 
 
 The harp the monarch, minstrel swept . . . 147 
 
 If that high world 149 
 
 The wild gazelle . . 151 
 
 Oh ! weep for those ....... 154 
 
 On Jordan's banks ... . 156 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Jephtha's daughter . " . " . 
 Oh ! snatched away in beauty's bloom 
 
 My soul is dark 
 
 I saw thee weep 
 
 Thy days are done . . . . 
 
 It is the hour 
 
 Song of Saul before his last battle 
 
 Saul 
 
 " All is vanity, saith the Preacher" 
 
 When coldness wraps this suffering clay 
 
 Vision of Balshazzar .... 
 
 Sun of the sleepless . . . 
 
 Were my bosom as false as thou deemst it to be 
 
 Herod's lament for Mariamne 
 
 On the day of the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus 
 
 By the rivers of Babylon we sat down and wept 
 
 The destruction of Semnacherib .... 
 
 From Job 
 
 158 
 161 
 163 
 165 
 167 
 169 
 171 
 173 
 176 
 179 
 182 
 187 
 188 
 190 
 193 
 196 
 198 
 202 
 
ODE 
 
 TO 
 
 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 
 " Expende Annibalem : — quot libras in duce summo 
 
 " Invenies ? 
 
 Juvenal, Sat. X. 
 
 VOL. IV. 
 
" The Emperor Nepos was acknowledged by the 
 " Senate, by the Italians, and by the Provincials of 
 '* Gaul; his moral virtues, and military talents, were 
 " loudly celebrated; and those who derived any pri- 
 " vate benefit from his government, announced in 
 " prophetic strains the restoration of public felicity. 
 ****** 
 ****** 
 " By this shameful abdication, he protracted his life 
 " a few years, in a very ambiguous state, between 
 "an Emperor and an Exile, till — 
 
 Gibbon's Decline and Fall, vol. 6, p. 220. 
 
ODE. 
 
 i. 
 
 Tis done — but yesterday a King! 
 
 And armed with Kings to strive — 
 And now thou art a nameless thing 
 
 So abject— yet alive! 
 Is this the man of thousand thrones, 
 Who strewed our Earth with hostile bones? 
 
 And can he thus survive ? 
 Since he, miscalled the Morning Star, 
 Nor man nor fiend hath fall'n so far. 
 
ODE TO 
 II. 
 
 Ill-minded man ! why scourge thy kind 
 Who bowed so low the knee ? 
 
 By gazing on thyself grown blind, 
 Thou taught' st the rest to see. 
 
 With might unquestioned, — power to save- 
 
 Thine only gift hath been the grave 
 To those that worshipped thee j 
 
 Nor, till thy fall, could mortals guess 
 
 Ambition's less than littleness ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Thanks for that lesson — it will teach 
 
 To after- warriors more 
 Than high Philosophy can preach, 
 
 And vainly preached before. 
 That spell upon the minds of men 
 Breaks never to unite again, 
 
 That led them to adore 
 Those Pagod things of sabre-sway, 
 With fronts of brass, and feet of clay. 
 
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The triumph, and the vanity, 
 
 The rapture of the strife * — 
 The earthquake shout of Victory, 
 
 To thee the breath of life ; 
 The sword, the sceptre, and that sway 
 Which man seemed made but to obey, 
 
 Wherewith renown was rife — 
 All quelled ! — Dark Spirit ! what must be 
 The madness of thy memory ! 
 
 V. 
 
 The Desolator desolate ! 
 
 The Victor overthrown ! 
 The Arbiter of others' fate 
 
 A Suppliant for his own ! 
 Is it some yet imperial hope 
 That with such change can calmly cope ? 
 
 Or dread of death alone ? 
 To die a prince — or live a slave — 
 Thy choice is most ignobly brave ! 
 
ODE TO 
 VI. 
 
 He 2 who of old would rend the oak, 
 Dreamed not of the rebound ; 
 
 Chained by the trunk he vainly broke, 
 Alone— how looked he round ? — 
 
 Thou, in the sternness of thy strength, 
 
 An equal deed hast done at length, 
 And darker fate hast found : 
 
 He fell, the forest-prowlers' prey; 
 
 But thou must eat thy heart away! 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Roman, 3 when his burning heart 
 
 Was slaked with blood of Rome, 
 Threw down the dagger — dared depart, 
 
 In savage grandeur, home. 
 He dared depart, in utter scorn 
 Of men that such a yoke had borne, 
 
 Yet left him such a doom ! 
 His only glory was that hour 
 Of self-upheld abandoned power. 
 
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 VIII. 
 
 The Spaniard, 4 when the lust of sway 
 Had lost its quickening spell, 
 
 Cast crowns for rosaries away, 
 An empire for a cell ; 
 
 A strict accountant of his beads, 
 
 A subtle disputant on -creeds, 
 His dotage trifled well : 
 
 Yet better had he neither known 
 
 A bigot's shrine, nor despot's throne. 
 
 IX. 
 
 But thou — from thy reluctant hand 
 
 The thunderbolt is wrung — 
 Too late thou leav'st the high command 
 
 To which thy weakness clung ; 
 All Evil Spirit as thou art, 
 It is enough to grieve the heart, 
 
 To see thine own unstrung ; 
 To think that God's fair world hath been 
 The footstool of a thing so mean ; 
 
10 ODE TO 
 
 X. 
 
 And Earth hath spilt her blood for him, 
 
 Who thus can hoard his own! 
 And Monarchs bowed the trembling limb, 
 
 And thanked him for a throne ! 
 Fair Freedom ! we may hold thee dear, 
 When thus thy mightiest foes their fear 
 
 In humblest guise have shown. 
 Oh ! ne'er may tyrant leave behind 
 A brighter name to lure mankind ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Thine evil deeds are writ in gore, 
 
 Nor written thus in vain — 
 Thy triumphs tell of fame no more, 
 
 Or deepen every stain. 
 If thou had st died as honour dies, 
 Some new Napoleon might arise, 
 
 To shame the world again — 
 But who would soar the solar height, 
 To set in such a starless night ? 
 
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 11 
 
 XII. 
 
 Weighed in the balance, hero dust 
 
 Is "vile as vulgar clay ; 
 Thy scales, Mortality! are just 
 
 To all that pass away ; 
 But yet, methought, the living great 
 Some higher sparks should animate, 
 
 To dazzle and dismay ; 
 Nor deemed Contempt could thus make mirth 
 Of these, the Conquerors of the earth. 
 
 XIU. 
 
 And she, proud Austria's mournful flower, 
 
 Thy still imperial bride ; 
 How bears her breast the torturing hour? 
 
 Still clings she to thy side ? 
 Must she too bend, must she too share 
 Thy late repentance, long despair, 
 
 Thou throneless Homicide ? 
 If still she loves thee, hoard that gem, 
 'Tis worth thy vanished diadem ! 
 
12 ODE TO 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Then haste thee to thy sullen Isle, 
 
 And gaze upon the sea ; 
 That element may meet thy smile, 
 
 It ne'er was ruled by thee ! 
 Or trace with thine all idle hand, 
 In loitering mood, upon the sand, 
 
 That Earth is now as free ! 
 That Corinth's pedagogue hath now 
 Transferred his by- word to thy brow. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Thou Timour! in his captive's cage 5 
 What thoughts will there be thine, 
 While brooding in thy prisoned rage ? 
 But one — " The world was mine?" 
 Unless, like he of Babylon, 
 All sense is with thy sceptre gone, 
 
 Life will not long confine 
 That spirit poured so widely forth — 
 So long obeyed — so little worth I 
 
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 13 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Or like the thief of fire from heaven, 6 
 
 Wilt thou withstand the shock ? 
 And share with him, the unforgiven, 
 
 His vulture and his rock ! 
 Foredoomed by God — by man accurst, 
 And that last act, though not thy worst, 
 
 The very Fiend's arch mock ; n 
 He in his fall preserved his pride, 
 And, if a mortal, had as proudly died ! 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note 1, page 7, line 2. 
 The rapture of the strife — 
 Certaminis gaudia, the expression of Attila in his harangue 
 to his army, previous to the battle of Chalons, given in 
 Cassiodorus. 
 
 Milo. 
 
 Scylla. 
 
 Note 2, page 8, line 1. 
 
 He loho of old would rend the oak. 
 
 Note 3, page 8, line 10. 
 
 The Roman, when his burning heart — 
 
 Note 4, page 9, line 1. 
 
 The Spaniard, when the lust of sway — 
 
 Charles V. 
 
 Note 5, page 12, line 10. 
 Thou Timour ! in his captive's cage — 
 The cage of Bajazet, by order of Tamerlane. 
 
 Note 6, page 13, line 1 
 
 Or like the thief of fre from heaven — 
 Prometheus. 
 
16 NOTES. 
 
 Note 7, page 13, line 7. 
 The very Fiend's arch mock — 
 
 " The fiend's arch mock — 
 " To lip a wanton, and suppose her chaste." — 
 
 ShuKspeare. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 VOL. TV. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. 
 
 As o'er the cold sepulchral stone 
 Some name arrests the passer-by; 
 
 Thus, when thou view'st this page alone, 
 May mine attract thy pensive eye ! 
 
 C 2 
 
20 POEMS. 
 
 2. 
 
 And when by thee that name is read, 
 
 Perchance in some succeeding year, 
 Reflect on me as on the dead, 
 
 And think my heart is buried here. 
 
 September 14th, ISOg. 
 
POEMS. 2i 
 
 II. 
 
 To * * * 
 
 Oh Lady! when I left the shore, 
 
 The distant shore, which gave me birth, 
 I hardly thought to grieve once more, 
 
 To quit another spot on earth : 
 Yet here, amidst this barren isle, 
 
 Where panting Nature droops the head, 
 Where only thou art seen to smile, 
 
 I view my parting hour with dread. 
 
22 POEMS. 
 
 Though far from Albin's craggy shore, 
 
 Divided by the dark-blue main ; 
 A few, brief, rolling seasons o'er, 
 
 Perchance I view her cliffs again : 
 But wheresoe'er I now may roam, 
 
 Through scorching clime, and varied sea, 
 Though Time restore me to my home, 
 
 I ne'er shall bend mine eyes on thee : 
 On thee, in whom at once conspire 
 
 All charms which heedless hearts can move, 
 Whom but to see is to admire, 
 
 And, oh ! forgive the word — to love. 
 Forgive the word, in one who ne'er 
 
 With such a word can more offend ; 
 And since thy heart I cannot share, 
 
 Believe me, what I am, thy friend. 
 
POEMS. 23 
 
 And who so cold as look on thee, 
 
 Thou lovely wand'rer, and be less? 
 Nor be, what man should ever be, 
 
 The friend of Beauty in distress ? 
 Ah ! who would think that form had past 
 
 Through Danger's most destructive path, 
 Had braved the death- winged tempest's blast, 
 
 And 'scaped a tyrant's fiercer wrath ? 
 Lady! when I shall view the walls 
 
 Where free Byzantium once arose ; 
 And Stamboul's Oriental halls 
 
 The Turkish tyrants now enclose ; 
 Though mightiest in the lists of fame, 
 
 That glorious city still shall be ; 
 On me 'twill hold a dearer claim, 
 As spot of thy nativity ; 
 
24 POEMS. 
 
 And though I bid thee now farewell, 
 When I behold that wond'rous scene, 
 
 Since where thou art I may not dwell, 
 'Twill soothe to be, where thou hast been. 
 
 September, I6O9. 
 
POEMS. 25 
 
 III. 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 Written in passing the Ambracian Gulph, 
 November 14th, ISO9. 
 
 1. 
 Through cloudless skies, in silvery sheen, 
 
 Full beams the moon on Actium's coast : 
 And on these waves, for Egypt's queen, 
 
 The ancient world was won and lost. 
 
26 POEMS. 
 
 2. 
 And now upon the scene I look, 
 
 The azure grave of many a Roman ; 
 Where stern Ambition once forsook 
 
 His wavering crown to follow woman. 
 
 3. 
 Florence ! whom I will love as well 
 
 As ever yet was said or sung, 
 (Since Orpheus sang his spouse from hell) 
 
 Whilst thou art fair and I am young ; 
 
 4. 
 Sweet Florence ! those were pleasant times, 
 
 When worlds were staked for ladies' eyes 
 Had bards as many realms as rhymes, 
 
 Thy charms might raise new Anthonies. 
 
POEMS. 27 
 
 5. 
 Though Fate forbids such things to be, 
 
 Yet, by thine eyes and ringlets curled ! 
 I cannot lose a world for thee, 
 
 But would not lose thee for a world. 
 
26 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 Composed October Uth 1809, during the night, in a 
 thunder-storm ; when the guides had lost the road to 
 Zitza, near the range of mountains formerly called 
 Pindus, in Albania. 
 
 1. 
 
 Chill and mirk is the nightly blast, 
 Where Pindus' mountains rise, 
 
 And angry clouds are pouring fast 
 The vengeance of the skies. 
 
POEMS. 2CJ 
 
 Our guides are gone, our hope is lost, 
 
 And lightnings, as they play, 
 But show where rocks our path have crost, 
 
 Or gild the torrent's spray. 
 
 3. 
 
 Is yon a cot I saw,, though low ? 
 
 When lightning hroke the gloom — 
 How welcome were its shade! — ah, no! 
 
 Tis but a Turkish tomb. 
 
 4. 
 Through sounds of foaming waterfalls, 
 
 I hear a voice exclaim — 
 My way-worn countryman, who calls 
 
 On distant England's name. 
 
30 POEMS. 
 
 5. 
 
 A shot is fired — by foe or friend ? 
 
 Another — 'tis to tell 
 The mountain-peasants to descend, 
 
 And lead us where they dwell. 
 
 6. 
 Oh ! who in such, a night will dare 
 
 To tempt the wilderness? 
 And who 'mid thunder peals can hear 
 
 Our signal of distress ? 
 
 And who that heard our shouts would rise 
 
 To try the dubious road ? 
 Nor rather deem from nightly cries 
 
 That outlaws were abroad. 
 
POEMS. 81 
 
 S. 
 Clouds burst, skies flash, oh, dreadful hour ! 
 
 More fiercely pours the storm ! 
 Yet here one thought has still the power 
 
 To keep my bosom warm. 
 
 9- 
 While wand' ring through each broken path, 
 
 O'er brake and craggy brow; 
 While elements exhaust their wrath, 
 
 Sweet Florence, where art thou ? 
 
 10. 
 
 Not on the sea, not on the sea, 
 
 Thy bark hath long been gone: 
 Oh, may the storm that pours on me, 
 
 Bow down my head alone ! 
 
32 POEMS. 
 
 11. 
 Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc, 
 
 When last I pressed thy lip • 
 And long ere now, with foaming shock, 
 
 Impelled thy gallant ship. 
 
 12. 
 Now thou art safe ; nay, long ere now 
 
 Hast trod the shore of Spain j 
 'Twere hard if ought so fair as thou 
 
 Should linger on the main. 
 
 13. 
 And since I now remember thee 
 
 In darkness and in dread, 
 As in those hours of revelry 
 
 Which mirth and music sped ; 
 
POEMS. 33 
 
 14. 
 Do thou amidst the fair white walls, 
 
 If Cadiz yet be free, 
 At times from out her latticed halls 
 
 Look o'er the dark blue sea ; 
 
 15. 
 Then think upon Calypso's isles, 
 
 Endeared by days gone byj 
 To others give a thousand smiles, 
 
 To me a single sigh. 
 
 16. 
 And when the admiring circle mark 
 
 The paleness of thy face, 
 A half formed tear, a transient spark 
 
 Of melancholy grace, 
 
 VOL. IV. D 
 
34 POEMS. 
 
 17. 
 
 Again thou'lt smile, and blushing shun 
 
 Some coxcomb's raillery ; 
 Nor own for once thou thought' st of one, 
 
 Who ever thinks on thee. 
 
 18. 
 Though smile and sigh alike are vain, 
 
 When severed hearts repine, 
 My spirit flies o'er mount and main, 
 
 And mourns in search of thine. 
 
POEMS. 35 
 
 V. 
 
 Written at Athens. 
 
 JANUARY 1 6, 1810. 
 
 The spell is broke, the charm is fiown! 
 
 Thus is it with life's fitful fever : 
 We madly smile when we should groan ; 
 
 Delirium is our best deceiver. 
 Each lucid interval of thought 
 
 Recalls the woes of Nature's charter, 
 And he that acts as wise men ought, 
 
 But lives, as saints have died, a martyr. 
 
 d2 
 
36 POEMS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Written after swimming from Sestos to Abydos 1 , 
 May 9, 1810. 
 
 1. 
 
 Ifj in the month of dark December, 
 Leander; who was nightly wont 
 
 (What maid will not the tale remember?) 
 To Cross thy stream, broad Hellespont ! 
 
POEMS. 3? 
 
 2. 
 If, when the wintry tempest roared, 
 
 He sped to Hero, nothing loth, 
 And thus of old thy current poured, 
 
 Fair Venus ! how I pity both ! 
 
 3. • 
 For me, degenerate modern wretch, 
 
 Though in the genial month of May, 
 My dripping limbs I faintly stretch, 
 
 And think I've done a feat to-day. 
 
 4. 
 But since he crossed the rapid tide, 
 
 According to the doubtful story, 
 To woo, — and — Lord knows what beside, 
 
 And swam for Love, as I for Glory ; 
 
33 POEMS. 
 
 5. 
 'Twere hard to say who fared the best : 
 
 Sad mortals! thus the Gods still plague you! 
 He lost his labour, I my jest : 
 
 For he was drowned, and I've the ague. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 VII. 
 SONG. 
 
 £anj pS, trds dyavrui 2 , 
 Athens, 1810. 
 
 1. 
 
 Maid of Athens, ere we part, 
 Give, oh, give me back my heart! 
 Or, since that has left my breast, 
 Keep it now, and take the rest! 
 Hear my vow before I go, 
 Zojrj pj, (rds dyavrw. 
 
40 POEMS. 
 
 2. 
 
 By those tresses unconfined, 
 Wooed by each iEgean wind ; 
 By those lids whose jetty fringe 
 Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge ; 
 By those wild eyes like the roe, 
 W Ztti'y) ps, <rx; dya.&w. 
 
 3. 
 
 By that lip I long to taste ; 
 By that zone-encircled waist ; 
 By all the token-flowers 3 that tell 
 What words can never speak so well ; 
 By Love's alternate joy and woe, 
 Zuit) pis, ffds dyavxu. 
 
POEMS. 41 
 
 4. 
 
 Maid of Athens ! I am gone : 
 Think of me, sweet! when alone. 
 Though I fly to Istambol 4 , 
 Athens holds my heart and soul : 
 Can I cease to love thee? No! 
 Zwri (lit, vdg dycLVSw. 
 
42 POEMS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Translation of the famous Greek War Song, t.tvlt vraiii; r£v 
 'EM>jvcov, written by Riga, who perished in the attempt to 
 revolutionize Greece. The following translation is as literal as 
 the author could make it in verse ; it is of the same measure 
 as that of the original. See Appendix to vol. 1. 
 
 1. 
 
 Sons of the Greeks, arise! 
 
 The glorious hour's gone forth, 
 And, worthy of such ties, 
 
 Display who gave us birth. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Sons of Greeks! let us go 
 In arms against the foe, 
 Till their hated blood shall flow 
 In a river past our feet. 
 
POEMS. 43 
 
 2. 
 
 Then manfully despising 
 
 The Turkish tyrant's yoke, 
 Let your country see you rising. 
 
 And all her chains are broke. 
 Brave shades of chiefs and sages, 
 
 Behold the coming strife ! 
 Hellenes of past ages, 
 
 Oh, start again to life! 
 At the sound of my trumpet, breaking 
 
 Your sleep, oh, join with me! 
 And the seven-hilled 5 city seeking, 
 
 Fight, conquer, till we're free. 
 
 Sons of Greeks, &c. 
 
44 VOEMS. 
 
 3- 
 
 Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers 
 
 Lethargic dost thou lie ? 
 Awake, and join thy numbers 
 
 With Athens, old ally! 
 Leonidas recalling', 
 
 That chief of ancient song, 
 Who saved ye once from falling, 
 
 The terrible ! the strong ! 
 Who made that bold diversion 
 
 In old Thermopylge, 
 And warring with the Persian 
 
 To keep his country free ; 
 
POEMS. 45 
 
 With his three hundred waging 
 
 The battle, long he stood, 
 And like a lion raging, 
 
 Expired in seas of blood. 
 
 Sons of Greeks, &c. 
 
/if) 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Translation of the Romaic Song, 
 '< a'paioWy XaVrf," &c. 
 
 The song from which this is taken is a great favourite with the 
 young girls of Athens of all classes. Their manner of singing it 
 is by verses in rotation, the whole number present joining in the 
 chorus. I have heard it frequently at our " ^apoj" in the winter 
 of 1 8 1 0-1 1 . The air is plaintive and pretty. 
 
 1. 
 
 I enter thy garden of roses, 
 Beloved and fair Haidee, 
 
 Each morning where Flora reposes, 
 For surely I see her in thee. 
 
POEMS. 4/ 
 
 Oh, Lovely! thus low I implore thee, 
 
 Receive this fond truth from my tongue, 
 Which utters its song to adore thee, 
 
 Yet trembles for what it has sung ; 
 As the branch, at the bidding of Nature, 
 
 Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree, 
 Through her eyes, through her every feature, 
 
 Shines the soul of the young Haide6. 
 
 2. 
 
 But the loveliest garden grows hateful 
 When Love has abandoned the bowers ; 
 
 Bring me hemlock— since mine is ungrateful, 
 That herb is more fragrant than flowers. 
 
48 POEMS. 
 
 The poison, when poured from the chalice, 
 
 Will deeply embitter the bowl ; 
 But when drunk to escape from thy malice, 
 
 The draught shall be sweet to my soul. 
 Too cruel ! in vain I implore thee 
 
 My heart from these horrors to save : 
 Will nought to my bosom restore thee? 
 
 Then open the gates of the grave. 
 
 3. 
 
 As the chief who to combat advances 
 
 Secure of his conquest before, 
 Thus thou, with those eyes for thy lances, 
 
 Hast pierced through my heart to its core. 
 
POEMS. 40 
 
 Ah, tell me, my soul ! must I perish 
 
 By pangs which a smile would dispel? 
 Would the hope, which thou oncebad'st me cherish, 
 
 For torture repay me too well? 
 Now sad is the garden of roses, 
 
 Beloved but false Haidee ! 
 There Flora all withered reposes, 
 
 And mourns o'er thine absence with me. 
 
50 poems; 
 
 X, 
 
 Written beneath a Picture. 
 
 1. 
 
 Dear object of defeated eare! 
 
 Though now of Love and thee bereft, 
 To reconcile me with despair 
 
 Thine image and my tears are left. 
 
POEMS. 51 
 
 2. 
 'Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope; 
 
 But this I feel can ne'er be true : 
 For by the death-blow of my Hope 
 
 My Memory immortal grew. 
 
 e 2 
 
51 POEMS. 
 
 XL 
 
 On Parting. 
 
 1. 
 
 The kiss, dear maid ! thy lip has left, 
 Shall never part from mine, 
 
 Till happier hours restore the gift 
 Untainted back to thine. 
 
POEMS. 53 
 
 Thy parting glance, which fondly beams, 
 
 An equal love may see : 
 The tear that from thine eyelid streams 
 
 Can weep no change in me. 
 
 3. 
 I ask no pledge to make me blest 
 
 In gazing when alone ; 
 Nor one memorial for a breast, 
 
 Whose thoughts are all thine own. 
 
 4. 
 
 Nor need I write — to tell the tale 
 
 My pen were doubly weak : 
 Oh ! what can idle words avail, 
 
 Unless the heart could speak ? 
 
54 POEMS. 
 
 5. 
 By day or night, in weal or woe, 
 
 That heart, no longer free, 
 Must bear the love it cannot show. 
 
 And silent ache for thee. 
 
POEMS. 55 
 
 XII. 
 
 TO THYRZA. 
 
 l. 
 
 Without a stone to mark the spot, 
 
 And say, what Truth might well have said 
 By all, save one, perchance forgot, 
 
 Ah, wherefore art thou lowly laid ? 
 By many a shore and many a sea 
 
 Divided, yet beloved in vainj 
 The past, the future fled to thee 
 
 To bid us meet — no— ne'er again ! 
 
56 POEMS. 
 
 2. 
 Could this have been — a word, a look 
 
 That softly said, " We part in peace," 
 Had taught my bosom how to brook, 
 
 With fainter sighs, thy soul's release. 
 And didst thou not, since Death for thee 
 
 Prepared a light and pangless dart, 
 Once long for him thou ne'er shalt see, 
 
 Who held, and holds thee in his heart ? 
 
 3. 
 Oh ! who like him had watched thee here ? 
 
 Or sadly marked thy glazing eye, 
 In that dread hour ere death appear, 
 
 When silent Sorrow fears to sigh, 
 
POEMS. 57 
 
 Till all was past? But when no more 
 
 'Twas thine to reck of human woe, 
 Affection's heart-drops, gushing o'er, 
 
 Had flowed as fast — as now they flow. 
 
 4. 
 Shall they not flow, when many a day 
 
 In these, to me, deserted towers, 
 Ere called but for a time away, 
 
 Affection's mingling tears were ours ? 
 Ours too the glance none saw beside ; 
 
 The smile none else might understand ; 
 The whispered thought of hearts allied, 
 
 The pressure of the thrilling hand ; 
 
58 POEMS. 
 
 5. 
 
 The kiss so guiltless and refined 
 
 That Love each warmer wish forbore ; 
 Those eyes proclaimed so pure a mind, 
 
 Ev'n passion blushed to plead for more. 
 The tone, that taught me to rejoice, 
 
 When prone, unlike thee, to repine ; 
 The song, celestial from thy voice, 
 
 But sweet to me from none but thine; 
 
 6. 
 
 The pledge we wore — I wear it still, 
 
 But where is thine ? — ah, where art thou ? 
 
 Oft have I borne the weight of ill, 
 But never bent beneath till now ! 
 
POEMS. 59 
 
 Well hast thou left in life's best bloom 
 The cup of woe for me to drain. 
 
 If rest alone be in the tomb, 
 
 I would not wish thee here again ; 
 
 7. 
 But if in worlds more blest than this 
 
 Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere, 
 Impart some portion of thy bliss, 
 
 To wean me from mine anguish here. 
 Teach me — too early taught by thee ! 
 
 To bear, forgiving and forgiv'n : 
 On earth thy love was such to me ; 
 
 It fain would form my hope in heav'n! 
 
0*0 POEMS. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 1. 
 Away., away, ye notes of woe ! 
 
 Be silent thou once soothing strain, 
 Or I must flee from hence, for, oh ! 
 
 I dare not trust those sounds again. 
 
POEMS. 6l 
 
 To me they speak of brighter days — 
 But lull the chords,, for now, alas! 
 
 I must not think, I may not gaze 
 On what I am, on what I was. 
 
 2. 
 The voice that made those sounds more sweet 
 
 Is hushed, and all their charms are fled ; 
 And now their softest notes repeat 
 
 A dirge, an anthem o'er the dead! 
 Yes, Thyrza ! yes, they breathe of thee, 
 
 Beloved dust ! since dust thou art ; 
 And all that once was harmony 
 
 Is worse than discord to my heart ! 
 
62 POEMS. 
 
 3. 
 Tis silent all! — but on my ear 
 
 The well-remembered echoes thrill ; 
 I hear a voice I would not hear, 
 
 A voice that now might well be still, 
 Yet oft my doubting soul 'twill shake : 
 
 Ev'n slumber owns its gentle tone, 
 Till consciousness will vainly wake 
 
 To listen, though the dream be flown. 
 
 4. 
 
 Sweet Thyrza ! waking as in sleep, 
 Thou art but now a lovely dream ; 
 
 A star that trembled o'er the deep, 
 
 Then turned from earth its tender beam. 
 
POEMS. 63 
 
 But he, who through life's dreary way 
 
 Must pass, when heav'n is veiled in wrath, 
 
 Will long lament the vanished ray 
 That scattered gladness o'er his path. 
 
04 POEMS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 TO THYRZA. 
 
 1. 
 
 One struggle more, and I am free 
 From pangs that rend my heart in twain ; 
 
 One last long sigh to love and thee, 
 Then back to busy life again. 
 
POEMS. 65 
 
 It suits me well to mingle now 
 
 With things that never pleased before : 
 
 Though every joy is fled below, 
 
 What future grief can touch me more ? 
 
 2. 
 
 Then bring me wine, the banquet bring ; 
 
 Man was not formed to live alone : 
 I'll be that light unmeaning thing 
 
 That smiles with all, and weeps with none. 
 It was not thus in days more dear, 
 
 It never would have been, but thou 
 Hast fled, and left me lonely here ; 
 
 Thou'rt nothing, all are nothing now. 
 
 VOL. IV. 
 
) POEMS. 
 
 3. 
 In vain my lyre would lightly breathe ! 
 
 The smile that sorrow fain would wear 
 But mocks the woe that lurks beneath, 
 
 Like roses o'er a sepulchre. 
 Though gay companions o'er the bowl 
 
 Dispel awhile the sense of ill ; 
 Though pleasure fires the madd'ning soul, 
 
 The heart — the heart is lonely still ! 
 
 4. 
 
 On many a lone and lovely night 
 It soothed to gaze upon the sky.; 
 
 For then I deemed the heav'nly light 
 Shone sweetly on thy pensive eye : 
 
POEMS. 67 
 
 And oft I thought at Cynthia's noon, 
 When sailing o'er the iEgean wave, 
 
 " Now Thyrza gazes on that moon — " 
 Alas, it gleamed upon her grave! 
 
 5. 
 When stretched on fever's sleepless bed, 
 
 And sickness shrunk my throbbing veins, 
 <f Tis comfort still," I faintly said, 
 
 " That Thyrza cannot know my pains:" 
 Like freedom to the time-worn slave, 
 
 A boon 'tis idle then to give, 
 
 Relenting Nature vainly gave 
 
 # 
 My life, when Thyrza ceased to live! 
 
 f 2 
 
i POEMS. 
 
 6. 
 My Thyrza's pledge in better days, 
 
 When love and life alike were new ! 
 How different now thou meet'st my gaze ! 
 
 How tinged by time with sorrow's hue! 
 The heart that gave itself with thee 
 
 Is silent — ah, were mine as still! 
 Though cold as e'en the dead can be, 
 
 It feels, it sickens with the chill. 
 
 7- 
 Thou bitter pledge ! thou mournful token ! 
 
 Though painful, welcome to my breast ! 
 Still, still, preserve that love unbroken, 
 
 Or break the heart to which thou'rt prest ! 
 
POEMS. 69 
 
 Time tempers love, but not removes, 
 More hallowed when its hope is fled: 
 
 Oh ! what are thousand living loves 
 To that which cannot quit the dead ? 
 
70 POEMS. 
 
 XV. 
 
 EUTHANASIA. 
 
 1. 
 
 When Time, or soon or late, shall bring 
 The dreamless sleep that lulls the dead, 
 
 Oblivion ! may thy languid wing 
 Wave gently o'er my dying bed ! 
 
POEMS. 71 
 
 2. 
 
 No band of friends or heirs be there, 
 To weep, or wish, the coming blow : 
 
 No maiden, with dishevelled hair, 
 To feel, or feign, decorous woe. 
 
 3. 
 But silent let me sink to Earth, 
 
 With no officious mourners near: 
 I would not mar one hour of mirth, 
 
 Nor startle friendship with a fear. 
 
 4. 
 Yet Love, if Love in such an hour 
 
 Could nobly check its useless sighs, 
 Might then exert its latest power 
 
 In her who lives and him who dies. 
 
72 POEMS. 
 
 5. 
 
 'Twere sweet, my Psyche! to the last 
 Thy features still serene to see : 
 
 Forgetful of its struggles past, 
 E'en Pain itself shouM smile on thee. 
 
 6. 
 But vain the wish — for Beauty still 
 
 Will shrink, as shrinks the ebbing breath ; 
 And woman's tears, produced at will, 
 
 Deceive in life, unman in death. 
 
 7- 
 Then lonely be my latest hour, 
 
 Without regret, without a groan! 
 For thousands Death hath ceased to lower, 
 
 And pain been transient or unknown. 
 
POEMS. 73 
 
 b. 
 " Ay, but to die, and go," alas! 
 
 Where, all have gone, and all must go! 
 To be the nothing that I was 
 
 Ere born to life and living woe ! 
 
 9- 
 
 Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen, 
 
 Count o'er thy days from anguish free, 
 And know, whatever thou hast been, 
 "lis something better not to be. 
 
74 POEMS. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 " Heu quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui memiiusse !" 
 
 1. 
 
 And thou art dead, as young and fair 
 
 As aught of mortal birth; 
 And form so soft, and charms so rare, 
 
 Too soon returned to Earth ! 
 Though Earth received them in her bed, 
 And o'er the spot the crowd may tread 
 
 In carelessness or mirth, 
 There is an eye which could not brook 
 A moment on that grave to look. 
 
POEMS. /5 
 
 2. 
 I will not ask where thou liest low, 
 
 Nor gaze upon the spot ; 
 There flowers or weeds at will may grow, 
 
 So I behold them not : 
 It is enough for me to prove 
 That what I loved and long must love 
 
 Like common earth can rot ; 
 To me there needs no stone to tell, 
 'Tis Nothing that I loved so well. 
 
 3. 
 Yet did I love thee to the last 
 
 As fervently as thou, 
 Who didst not change through all the past, 
 
 And canst not alter now. 
 
yQ POEMS. 
 
 The love where Death has set his seal, 
 Nor age can chill, nor rival steal, 
 
 Nor falsehood disavow : 
 And, what were worse, thou canst not see 
 Or wrong, or change, or fault in me. 
 
 4. 
 The better days of life were ours ; • 
 
 The worst can be but mine : 
 The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers, 
 
 Shall never more be thine. 
 The silence of that dreamless sleep 
 I envy now too much to weep; 
 
 Nor need I to repine 
 That all those charms have passed away ; 
 I might have watched through long deeay. 
 
POEMS. "/J 
 
 5. 
 The flower in ripened bloom unmatched 
 
 Must fall the earliest prey ; 
 Though by no hand untimely snatched, 
 
 The leaves must drop away: 
 And yet it were a greater grief 
 To watch it withering, leaf by leaf, 
 
 Than see it plucked to-day ; 
 Since earthly eye but ill can bear 
 To trace the change to foul from fair. 
 
 6, 
 
 I know not if I could have borne 
 
 To see thy beauties fade ; 
 The night that followed such a morn 
 
 Had worn a deeper shade : 
 
3 POEMS. 
 
 Thy day without a cloud hath past, 
 And thou wert lovely to the last; 
 
 Extinguished, not decayed ; 
 As stars that shoot along the sky 
 Shine brightest as they fall from high. 
 
 As once I wept, if I could weep 
 My tears might well be shed, 
 To think I was not near to keep 
 
 One vigil o'er thy bed ; 
 To gaze, how fondly ! on thy face, 
 To fold thee in a faint embrace, 
 
 Uphold thy drooping head ; 
 And show that love, however vain, 
 Nor thou nor I can feel again. 
 
poems. 79 
 
 8. 
 Yet how much less it were to gain, 
 
 Though thou hast left me free, 
 The loveliest things that still remain, 
 
 Than thus remember thee ! 
 The all of thine that cannot die 
 Through dark and dread Eternity, 
 
 Returns again to me, 
 And more thy buried love endears 
 Than aught, except its living years. 
 
80 POEMS. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 1. 
 
 Ip sometimes in the haunts of men 
 
 Thine image from my breast may fade, 
 The lonely hour presents again 
 
 The semblance of thy gentle shade : 
 And now that sad and silent hour 
 
 Thus much of thee can still restore, 
 And sorrow unobserved may pour 
 
 The plaint she dare not speak before. 
 
POEMS. 81 
 
 2. 
 
 Oh, pardon that in crowds awhile, 
 
 I waste one thought I owe to thee, 
 And, self-condemned, appear to smile, 
 
 Unfaithful to thy Memory ! 
 Nor deem that memory less dear, 
 
 That then I seem not to repine, 
 I would not fools should overhear 
 
 One sigh that should be wholly thine. 
 
 3. 
 
 If not the Goblet pass unquaffed, 
 
 It is not drained to banish care, 
 The cup must hold a deadlier draught, 
 
 That brings a Lethe for despair ; 
 
 VOL. IV. g 
 
82 POEMS. 
 
 And could Oblivion set my soul 
 From all her troubled visions free, 
 
 I'd dash to earth the sweetest bowl 
 
 That drowned a single thought of thee. 
 
 4. 
 
 For wert thou vanished from my mind, 
 
 Where could my vacant bosom turn ? 
 And Avho would then remain behind 
 
 To honour thine abandoned Urn ? 
 No, No — it is my sorrow's pride 
 
 That last dear duty to fulfil ; 
 Though all the world forget beside, 
 
 'Tis meet that I remember still. 
 
POEMS. 83 
 
 5. 
 For well I know, that such had been 
 
 Thy gentle care for him, who now 
 Unmourned shall quit this mortal scene, 
 
 Where none regarded him, but thou : 
 And, Oh ! I feel in that was given 
 
 A blessing never meant for me ; 
 Thou wert too like a dream of Heaven, 
 
 For earthly Love to merit thee. 
 
 March 14th, 1812. 
 
 g 2 
 
84 POEMS. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 On a Cornelian Heart which mas broken. 
 
 1. 
 
 Ill-fated Heart! and can it be 
 
 That thou shouldst thus be rent in twain ? 
 Have years of care for thine and thee 
 
 Alike been all employed in vain ? 
 
POEMS. 8* 
 
 2. 
 
 Yet precious seems each shattered part, 
 And every fragment dearer grown, 
 
 Since he who wears thee, feels thou art 
 A fitter emblem of his otun. 
 
86 POEMS. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 [This poem and the following were written some years ago.] 
 
 To a Youthful Friend. 
 
 1. 
 Few years have passed since thou and I 
 
 Were firmest friends, at least in name, 
 And childhood's gay sincerity 
 
 Preserved our feelings long the same. 
 
POEMS. 87 
 
 2. 
 But now, like me, too well thou know'st 
 
 What trifles oft the heart recall ; 
 And those who once have loved the most 
 
 Too soon forget they loved at all. 
 
 3. 
 And such the change the heart displays, 
 
 So frail is early friendship's reign, 
 A month's hrief lapse, perhaps a day's, 
 
 Will view thy mind estranged again. 
 
 4. 
 
 If so, it never shall be mine 
 
 To mourn the loss of such a heart ; 
 
 The fault was Nature's fault, not thine, 
 Which made thee fickle as thou art. 
 
88 POEMS. 
 
 5. 
 
 As rolls the ocean's changing tide, 
 So human feelings ebb and flow ; 
 
 And who would in a breast confide 
 Where stormy passions ever glow ? 
 
 6. 
 It boots not, that together bred, 
 
 Our childish days were days of joy ; 
 My spring of life has quickly fled ; 
 
 Thou, too, hast ceased to be a boy. 
 
 7- 
 And when we bid adieu to youth, 
 
 Slaves to the specious world's controul, 
 We sigh a long farewell to truth ; 
 
 That world corrupts the noblest soul. 
 
POEMS. 89 
 
 8. 
 Ah, joyous season! when the mind 
 
 Dares all things boldly but to lie ; 
 When thought ere spoke is unconfined, 
 
 And sparkles in the placid eye. 
 
 9- 
 
 Not so in Man's maturer years, 
 
 When Man himself is but a tool ; 
 When interest sways our hopes and fears, 
 
 And all must love and hate by rule. 
 
 10. 
 
 With fools in kindred vice the same, 
 We learn at length our faults to blend, 
 
 And those, and those alone may claim 
 The prostituted name of friend. 
 
 
D POEMS. 
 
 11. 
 
 Such is the common lot of man : 
 Can we then 'scape from folly free ? 
 
 Can we reverse the general plan, 
 Nor be what all in turn must be I 
 
 12. 
 
 No, for myself, so dark my fate 
 
 Through every turn of life hath been ; 
 
 Man and the world I so much hate, 
 I care not when I quit the scene. 
 
 13. 
 
 But thou, with spirit frail and light, 
 Wilt shine awhile and pass away; 
 
 As glow-worms sparkle through the night, 
 But dare not stand the test of day. 
 
POEMS. 91 
 
 14. 
 
 Alas ! whenever folly calls 
 
 Where parasites and princes meet, 
 (For cherished first in royal halls, 
 
 The welcome vices kindly greet) 
 
 15. 
 
 Ev'n now thou'rt nightly seen to add 
 One insect to the fluttering crowd j 
 
 And still thy trifling heart is glad, 
 
 To join the vain, and court the proud. 
 
 16. 
 There dost thou glide from fair to fair, 
 
 Still simpering on with eager haste, 
 As flies along the gay parterre, 
 
 That taint the flowers they scarcely taste. 
 
92 POEMS. 
 
 17- 
 
 But say, what nymph will prize the flame 
 Which seems, as marshy vapours move, 
 
 To flit along from dame to dame, 
 An ignis-fatuus gleam of love? 
 
 18. 
 What friend for thee, howe'er inclined, 
 
 Will deign to own a kindred care? 
 Who will debase his manly mind, 
 
 For friendship every fool may share ? 
 
 19. 
 In time forbear ; amidst the throng 
 
 No more so base a thing be seen ; 
 No more so idly pass along: 
 
 Be something, any thing, but — mean. 
 
POEMS. 93 
 
 XX. 
 
 70 ***** * 
 
 ■ l. 
 
 Well ! thou art happy, and I feel 
 That I should thus be happy too ; 
 
 For still my heart regards thy weal 
 Warmly, as it was wont to do. 
 
94 POEMS. 
 
 2. 
 
 Thy husband's blest — and 'twill impart 
 Some pangs to view his happier lot : 
 
 But let them pass — Oh ! how my heart 
 Would hate him, if he loved thee not ! 
 
 3. 
 When late I saw thy favourite child, 
 
 I thought my jealous heart would break; 
 But when th' unconscious infant smiled, 
 
 I kissed it, for its mother's sake. 
 
 4. 
 I kissed it, and repressed my sighs 
 
 Its father in its face to see ; 
 But then it had its mother's eyes, 
 
 And they were all to love and me. 
 
TOEMS. Q5 
 
 5. 
 
 Mary, adieu! I must away: 
 While thou art blest I'll not repine ; 
 
 But near thee I can never stay ; 
 
 My heart would soon again be thine. 
 
 6. 
 
 I deemed that time, I deemed that pride 
 Had quenched at length my boyish flame ; 
 
 Nor knew, till seated by thy side, 
 My heart in all, save hope, the same. 
 
 7. 
 Yet was I calm : I knew the time 
 
 My breast would thrill before thy look ; 
 But now to tremble were a crime — 
 
 We met, and not a nerve was shook. 
 
96 POEMS. 
 
 8. 
 I saw thee gaze upon my face, 
 
 Yet meet with no confusion theee: 
 One only feeling could'st thou trace ; 
 
 The sullen calmness of despair. 
 
 9- 
 
 Away ! away ! my early dream 
 Remembrance never must awake ; 
 
 Oh ! where is Lethe's fabled stream ? 
 My foolish heart be still, or break. 
 
poems. 97 
 
 XXI. 
 
 From the Portuguese. 
 
 In moments to delight devoted, 
 
 " My life!" with tend'rest tone, you cry; 
 Dear words! on which my heart had doted, 
 
 If youth could neither fade nor die. 
 To death even hours like these must roll, 
 
 Ah ! then repeat those accents never ; 
 Or change " my life!" into " my soul!" 
 
 Which, like my love, exists for ever. 
 
 VOL. IV. II 
 
98 POEMS. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Impromptu, in Reply to a Friend. 
 
 When from the heart where Sorrow sits, 
 
 Her dusky shadow mounts too high, 
 And o'er the changing aspect flits, 
 
 And clouds the brow, or fills the eye; 
 Heed not that gloom, which soon shall sink: 
 
 My thoughts their dungeon know too well ; 
 Back to my breast the wanderers shrink, 
 
 And droop within their silent cell. 
 
poems. 99 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 
 Address, spoken at the opening of Drury-lane Thea- 
 tre, Saturday, October 10th, 1812. 
 
 In one dread night our city saw, and sighed, 
 Bowed to the dust, the Drama's tower of pride ; 
 In one short hour beheld the blazing fane, 
 Apollo sink, and Shakspeare cease to reign. 
 
 Ye who beheld, (oh ! sight admired and mourned, 
 Whose radiance mocked the ruin it adorned!) 
 Through clouds of fire, the massy fragments riven, 
 Like Israel's pillar, chase the night from heaven ; 
 
 h 2 
 
100 POEMS. 
 
 Saw the long column of revolving flames 
 Shake its red shadow o'er the startled Thames, 
 While thousands, thronged around the burning dome, 
 Shrank back appalled, and trembled for their home, 
 As glared the volumed blaze, and ghastly shone 
 The skies, with lightnings awful as their own, 
 Till blackening ashes and the lonely wall 
 Usurped the Muse's realm, and marked her fall; 
 Say — shall this new, nor less aspiring pile, 
 Reared where once rose the mightiest in our isle, 
 Know the same favour which the former knew, 
 A shrine for Shakspeare — worthy him and you ? 
 
 Yes — it shall be — the magic of that name 
 Defies the scythe of time, the torch of flame ;. 
 
POEMS. 10! 
 
 On the same spot still consecrates the scene, 
 And bids the Drama be where she hath been : 
 This fabric's birth attests the potent spell — 
 Indulge our honest pride, and say, Hotv tvell! 
 
 As soars this fane to emulate the last, 
 Oh ! might we draw our omens from the past, 
 Some hour propitious to our prayers may boast 
 Names such as hallow still the dome we lost. 
 On Drury first your Siddons' thrilling art 
 O'erwhelmed the gentlest, stormed the sternest heart. 
 On Drury, Garrick's latest laurels grew ; 
 Here your last tears retiring Roscius drew, 
 Sighed his last thanks, and wept his last adieu : 
 But still for living wit the wreaths may bloom 
 That only waste their odours o'er the tomb. 
 
 
102 FOEMS. 
 
 Such Drury claimed and claims — nor you refuse 
 One tribute to revive his slumbering muse ; 
 With garlands deck your own Menander's head ! 
 Nor hoard your honours idly for the dead ! 
 
 Dear are the days which made our annals bright, 
 Ere Garrick fled, or Brinsley ceased to write. 
 Heirs to their labours, like all high-born heirs, 
 Vain of our ancestry as they of theirs; 
 While thus Remembrance borrows Banquo's glass 
 To claim the sceptred shadows as they pass, 
 And we the mirror hold, where imaged shine 
 Immortal names, emblazoned on our line, 
 Pause — ere their feebler offspring you condemn, 
 Reflect how hard the task to rival them ! 
 
POEMS. 103 
 
 Friends of the stage ! to whom both Players and 
 Plays 
 Must sue alike for pardon, or for praise, 
 Whose judging voice and eye alone direct 
 The boundless power to cherish or reject ; 
 If e'er frivolity has led to fame, 
 And made us blush that you forbore to blame ; 
 If e'er the sinking stage could condescend 
 To soothe the sickly taste, it dare not mend, 
 All past reproach may present scenes refute, 
 And censure, wisely loud, be justly mute ! 
 Oh ! since your fiat stamps the Drama's laws, 
 Forbear to mock us with misplaced applause j 
 So pride shall doubly nerve the actor's powers, 
 And reason's voice be echoed back by ours ! 
 
104 POEMS. 
 
 This greeting o'er, the ancient rule obeyed, 
 The Drama's homage by her herald paid, 
 Receive our welcome too, whose every tone 
 Springs from our hearts, and fain would win your own. 
 The curtain rises — may our stage unfold 
 Scenes not unworthy Drury's days of old ! 
 Britons our judges, Nature for our guide, 
 Still may we please — long, long may you preside! 
 
POEMS. J05 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 TO TIME. 
 
 Time! on whose arbitrary wing 
 
 The varying hours must flag or fly, 
 Whose tardy winter, fleeting spring, 
 
 But drag or drive us on to die — 
 Hail thou ! who on my birth bestowed 
 
 Those boons to all that know thee known ; 
 Yet better I sustain thy load, 
 
 For noAV I bear the weight alone. 
 I would not one fond heart should share 
 
 The bitter moments thou hast given ; 
 And pardon thee, since thou could'st spare 
 
 All that I loved, to peace or heav'n. 
 
106 POEMS. 
 
 To them be joy or rest, on me 
 
 Thy future ills shall press in vain ; 
 I nothing owe but years to thee, 
 
 A debt already paid in pain. 
 Yet even that pain was some relief ; 
 
 It felt, but still forgot thy power : 
 The active agony of grief 
 
 Retards, but never counts the hour. 
 In joy I've sighed to think thy flight 
 
 Would soon subside from swift to slow j 
 Thy cloud could overcast the light, 
 
 But could not add a night to woe ; 
 For then, however drear and dark, 
 
 My soul was suited to thy sky ; 
 One star alone shot forth a spark 
 
 To prove thee — not Eternity. 
 
POEMS. JC7 
 
 That beam hath sunk, and now thou art 
 
 A blank; a thing to count and curse 
 Through each dull tedious trifling part, 
 
 Which all regret, yet all rehearse. 
 One scene even thou canst not deform ; 
 
 The limit of thy sloth or speed. 
 When future wanderers bear the storm 
 
 Which we shall sleep too sound to heed : 
 And I can smile to think how weak 
 
 Thine efforts shortly shall be shown, 
 When all the vengeance thou canst wreak 
 
 Must fall upon — a nameless stone ! 
 
10S POEMS. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Translation of a Romaic Love Song. 
 
 1. 
 Ah ! Love was never yet without 
 The pang, the agony, the doubt, 
 Which rends my heart with ceaseless sigh, 
 While day and night roll darkling by. 
 
POEMS. 109 
 
 2. 
 
 Without one friend to hear my woe, 
 I faint, I die beneath the blow. 
 That Love had arrows, well I knew ; 
 Alas ! I find them poisoned too. 
 
 3. 
 Birds, yet in freedom, shun the net, 
 Which Love around your haunts hath set ; 
 Or circled by his fatal fire, 
 Your hearts shall burn, your hopes expire. 
 
 4. 
 A bird of free and careless wing 
 Was I, through many a smiling spring ; 
 But caught within the subtle snare, 
 1 burn, and feebly flutter there. 
 
 
110 POEMS. 
 
 5. 
 
 Who ne'er have loved, and loved in vain, 
 Can neither feel nor pity pain, 
 The cold repulse, the look askance, 
 The lightning of Love's angry glance. 
 
 6. 
 In flattering dreams I deemed thee mine ; 
 Now hope, and he who hoped, decline ; 
 Like melting wax, or withering flower, 
 I feel my passion, and thy power. 
 
 7- 
 
 My light of life ! ah, tell me why 
 
 That pouting lip, and altered eye ? 
 
 My bird of love! my beauteous mate! 
 
 And art thou changed, and canst thou hate ? 
 
POEMS. Ill 
 
 8. 
 Mine eyes like wintry streams o'erflow : 
 What wretch with me would harter woe ? 
 My bird ! relent : one note could give 
 A charm, to bid thy lover live. 
 
 9- 
 
 My curdling blood, my madd'ning brain, 
 In silent anguish I sustain ; 
 And still thy heart, without partaking 
 One pang, exults — while mine is breaking. 
 
 10. 
 Pour me the poison ; fear not thou ! 
 Thou canst not murder more than now : 
 I've lived to curse my natal day, 
 And Love, that thus can lingering slay. 
 
112 POEMS. 
 
 11. 
 
 My wounded soul, my bleeding breast, 
 Can patience preach thee into rest? 
 Alas! too late, I dearly know, 
 That joy is harbinger of woe. 
 
POEMS. 113 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 1. 
 
 Thou art not false, but thou art fickle, 
 To those thyself so fondly sought ; 
 
 The tears that thou hast forced to trickle 
 Are doubly bitter from that thought: 
 
 'Tis this which breaks the heart thou grievest, 
 
 Too well thou lov'st — too soon thou leavest. 
 
 VOL. IV. I 
 
114 POEMS. 
 
 2. 
 The wholly false the heart despises, 
 
 And spurns deceiver and deceit j 
 But she who not a thought disguises, 
 
 Whose love is as sincere as sweet, — 
 When she can change who loved so truly, 
 It feels what mine has felt so newly. 
 
 3. 
 To dream of joy and wake to sorrow 
 
 Is doomed to all who love or live ; 
 And if, when conscious on the morrow, 
 
 We scarce our fancy can forgive, 
 That cheated us in slumher only, 
 To leave the waking soul more lonely, 
 
POEMS. 115 
 
 4. 
 What must they feel whom no false vision, 
 
 But truest, tenderest passion warmed ? 
 Sincere, but swift in sad transition, 
 
 As if a dream alone had charmed ? 
 Ah! sure such grief is fancy's scheming, 
 And all thy change can be but dreaming! 
 
 i 2 
 
116 POEMS. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 On being asked 'what tvas the " Origin qfLovei 
 
 The " Origin of Love!" — Ah why 
 
 That cruel question ask of me, 
 When thou may'st read in many an eye 
 
 He starts to life on seeing thee ? 
 And should'st thou seek his end to know ■ 
 
 My heart forebodes, my fears foresee, 
 He'll linger long in silent woe; 
 
 But live — until I cease to be. 
 
POEMS. 117 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Remember him, &c. 
 
 1. 
 
 Remember him, whom passion's power 
 
 Severely, deeply, vainly proved : 
 Remember thou that dangerous hour 
 
 When neither fell, though both were loved. 
 
118 POEMS. 
 
 2. 
 That yielding breast, that melting eye, 
 
 Too much invited to be blest: 
 That gentle prayer, that pleading sigh, 
 
 The wilder wish reproved, represt. 
 
 3. 
 Oh ! let me feel that all I lost, 
 
 But saved thee all that conscience fears ; 
 And blush for every pang it cost 
 
 To spare the vain remorse of years. 
 
 4. 
 Yet think of this when many a tongue, 
 
 Whose busy accents whisper blame. 
 Would do the heart that loved thee wrong, 
 
 And brand a nearly blighted name. 
 
POEMS. 11C) 
 
 5. 
 Think that, whate'er to others, thou 
 
 Hast seen each selfish thought subdued: 
 I bless thy purer soul even now, 
 
 Even now, in midnight solitude. 
 
 6. 
 Oh, God! that we had met in time, 
 
 Our hearts as fond, thy hand more free j 
 When thou had'st loved without a crime, 
 
 And I been less unworthy thee ! 
 
 7- 
 Far may thy days, as heretofore, 
 
 From this our gaudy world be past! 
 And, that too bitter moment o'er, 
 
 Oh ! may such trial be thy last ! 
 
120 POEMS. 
 
 8. 
 This heart, alas ! perverted long, 
 
 Itself destroyed might there destroy; 
 To meet thee in the glittering throng, 
 
 Would wake Presumption's hope of joy. 
 
 9- 
 Then to the things whose bliss or woe, 
 
 Like mine., is wild and worthless all, 
 That world resign — such scenes forego, 
 
 Where those who feel must surely fall. 
 
 10. 
 Thy youth, thy charms, thy tenderness, 
 
 Thy soul from long seclusion pure ; 
 From what even here hath past, may guess 
 
 What there thy bosom must endure. 
 
POEMS. 12 
 
 11. 
 
 Oh ! pardon that imploring tear, 
 
 Since not by Virtue shed in vain, 
 My frenzy drew from eyes so dear $ 
 
 For me they shall not weep again. 
 
 12. 
 Though long and mournful must it be, 
 
 The thought that we no more may meet ; 
 Yet I deserve the stern decree, 
 
 And almost deem the sentence sweet. 
 
 13. 
 Still, had I loved thee less, my heart 
 
 Had then less sacrificed to thine ; 
 It felt not half so much to part, 
 
 As if its guilt had made thee mine. 
 
122 POEMS. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Lines inscribed upon a Cup formed from a Skull. 
 
 1. 
 Start not — nor deem my spirit fled : 
 
 In me behold the only skull, 
 From which, unlike a living head, 
 
 Whatever flows is never dull. 
 
POEMS. 123 
 
 2. 
 I lived, I loved, I quaffed, like thee; 
 
 I died ; let earth my bones resign : 
 Fill up — thou canst not injure me ; 
 
 The worm hath fouler lips than thine. 
 
 3. 
 Better to hold the sparkling grape, 
 
 Than nurse the earth-worm's slimy brood ; 
 And circle in the goblet's shape 
 
 The drink of Gods, than reptile's food. 
 
 4. 
 
 Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone, 
 
 In aid of others' let me shine; 
 And when, alas! our brains are gone, 
 
 What nobler substitute than wine ! 
 
J 24 POEMS. 
 
 5. 
 Quaff while thou canst — another race, 
 
 When thou and thine like me are sped, 
 May rescue thee from earth's embrace. 
 
 And rhyme and revel with the dead. 
 
 6. 
 
 Why not? since through life's little day 
 Our heads such sad effects produce ; 
 
 Redeemed from worms and wasting clay, 
 This chance is theirs, to be of use. 
 
 Newstead Abbey, 1808. 
 
POEMS. 125 
 
 XXX. 
 
 To a Lady weeping. 
 
 Weep, daughter of a royal line, 
 A Sire's disgrace, a realm's decay ; 
 
 Ah, happy ! if each tear of thine 
 Could wash a father's fault away! 
 
126 POEMS. 
 
 Weep— for thy tears are Virtue's tears — 
 Auspicious to these suffering isles ; 
 
 And be each drop in future years 
 Repaid thee by thy people's smiles! 
 
 March, 1812. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 127 
 
 xxxr. 
 
 From the Turkish, 
 
 1. 
 
 The chain T gave was fair to view, 
 The lute I added sweet in sound, 
 
 The heart that offered both was true, 
 And ill deserved the fate it found. 
 
128 POEMS. 
 
 2. 
 These gifts were charmed by secret spell 
 
 Thy truth in absence to divine ; 
 And they have done their duty well, 
 
 Alas! they could not teach thee thine. 
 
 3. 
 That chain was firm in every link, 
 
 But not to bear a stranger's touch ; 
 That lute was sweet — till thou could'st think 
 
 In other hands its notes were such. 
 
 4. 
 
 Let him, who from thy neck unbound 
 The chain which shivered in his grasp, 
 
 Who saw that lute refuse to sound, 
 Restring the chords, renew the clasp. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 129 
 
 5. 
 When thou wert changed, they altered too ; 
 
 The chain is broke, the music mute : 
 'Tis past — to them and thee adieu — 
 
 False heart, frail chain, and silent lute. 
 
 VOL. IV. 
 
i30 POEMS. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 To Genevra. 
 
 Thine eyes blue tenderness, thy long fair hair, 
 And the wan lustre of thy features — caught 
 From contemplation — where serenely wrought, 
 Seems Sorrow's softness charmed from its despair- 
 Have thrown such speaking sadness in thine air, 
 That — but I know thy blessed bosom fraught 
 With mines of unalloyed and stainless thought— 
 I should have deemed thee doomed to earthly care. 
 
POEMS. 131 
 
 With such an aspect, by his colours blent, 
 When from his beauty-breathing pencil born, 
 
 (Except that thou hast nothing to repent) 
 The Magdalen of Guido saw the morn — 
 
 Such seem'st thou — but how much more excellent ! 
 With nought Remorse can claim — nor Virtue scorn . 
 
 k 2 
 
132 POEMS. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 SONNET. 
 
 To Genevra. 
 
 Thy cheek is pale with thought, but not from woe, 
 And yet so lovely, that if Mirth could flush 
 Its rose of whiteness with the brightest blush, 
 
 My heart would wish away that ruder glow : — 
 
 And dazzle not thy deep-blue eyes — but oh! 
 While gazing on them sterner eyes will gush, 
 And into mine my mother's weakness rush, 
 
 Soft as the last drops round heaven's airy bow : 
 
POEMS. 133 
 
 For, through thy long dark lashes low depending, 
 
 The soul of melancholy Gentleness 
 Gleams like a seraph from the sky descending, 
 
 Above all pain, yet pitying all distress ; 
 At once such majesty with sweetness blending, 
 
 I worship more, but cannot love thee less. 
 
134 POEMS. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Inscription on the Monument of a Neivfoundland Dog. 
 
 When some proud son of man returns to earth, 
 Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, 
 The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe, 
 And storied urns record who rests below ; 
 When all is done, upon the tomb is seen, 
 Not what he was, but what he should have been : 
 
POEMS. It| 
 
 But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, 
 
 The first to welcome, foremost to defend, 
 
 Whose honest heart is still his master's own, 
 
 Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone, 
 
 Unhonoured falls, unnoticed all his worth, 
 
 Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth : 
 
 While man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven, 
 
 And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven. 
 
 Oh man! thou feeble tenant of an hour, 
 
 Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power, 
 
 Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust, 
 
 Degraded mass of animated dust ! 
 
 Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, 
 
 Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit! 
 
 By nature vile, ennobled but by name, 
 
 Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame. 
 
136 POEMS, 
 
 Ye ! who perchance hehold this simple urn, 
 Pass on — it honours none you wish to mourn s 
 To mark a friend's remains these stones arise, 
 I never knew but one, and here he lies. 
 
 Netustead Ahbey, Oct. 30, 1 808, 
 
POEMS, 137 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 Farewell! if ever fondest prayer 
 
 For other's weal availed on high, 
 Mine will not all be lost in air, 
 
 But waft thy name beyond the sky, 
 Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh: 
 
 Oh! more than tears of blood can tell, 
 When wrung from guilt's expiring eye, 
 
 Are in that word — Farewell! — Farewell! 
 
128 POEMS. 
 
 These lips are mute, these eyes are dry ; 
 
 But in my breast, and in my brain, 
 Awake the pangs that pass not by, 
 
 The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. 
 My soul nor deigns nor dares complain, 
 
 Though grief and passion there rebel ; 
 I only know we loved in vain — 
 
 I only feel — Farewell! — Farewell! 
 
POEMS. 139 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 On the Death of Sir Peter Parker, Bart. 
 
 There is a tear for all that die, 
 
 A mourner o'er the humblest grave; 
 
 But nations swell the funeral cry, 
 And Triumph weeps above the brave. 
 
140 POEMS. 
 
 For them is Sorrow's purest sigh 
 O'er Ocean's heaving bosom sent : 
 
 In vain their bones unburied lie, 
 All earth becomes their monument ! 
 
 A tomb is theirs on every page, 
 
 An epitaph on every tongue . 
 The present hours, the future age, 
 
 For them bewail, to them belong. 
 
 For them the voice of festal mirth 
 
 Grows hushed, their name the only sound ; 
 
 While deep Remembrance pours to Worth 
 The goblet's tributary round. 
 
POEMS. 141 
 
 A theme to crowds that knew them not, 
 
 Lamented by admiring foes, 
 Who would not share their glorious lot? 
 
 Who would not die the death they chose ? 
 
 And, gallant Parker ! thus enshrined 
 Thy life, thy fall, thy fame shall be ; 
 
 And early valour, glowing, find 
 A model in thy memory. 
 
 But there are breasts that bleed with thee 
 
 In woe, that glory cannot quell ; 
 And shuddering hear of victory, 
 
 Where one so dear, so dauntless, fell. 
 
142 POEMS. 
 
 Where shall they turn to mourn thee less ? 
 
 When cease to hear thy cherished name ? 
 Time cannot teach forgetfulness, 
 
 While Grief's full heart is fed by Fame. 
 
 Alas ! for them, though not for thee, 
 They cannot choose but weep the more j 
 
 Deep for the dead the grief must be, 
 Who ne'er gave cause to mourn before. 
 
NOTES. 
 

NOTES 
 
 THE POEMS. 
 
 Note I, page 36. 
 Written after swimming from Sestos to Abydos. 
 On the 3d of May, 1810, while the Salsette (Captain 
 Bathiirst) was lying in the Dardanelles, Lieutenant Eken- 
 head of that frigate and the writer of these rhymes swam 
 from the European shore to the Asiatic — by-the-by, from 
 Abydos to Sestos would have been more correct. The 
 whole distance from the place whence we started to our 
 landing on the other side, including the length we were car- 
 ried by the current, was computed by those on board the 
 frigate at upwards of four English miles ; though the actual 
 breadth is barely one. The rapidity of the current is such 
 that no boat can row directly across, and it may in some 
 measure be estimated from the circumstance of the whole 
 distance being accomplished by one of the parties in an hour 
 and five, and by the other in an hour and ten, minutes. The 
 
 VOL. IV. * K 
 
142 NOTES TO 
 
 water was extremely cold from the melting of the mountain- 
 snows. About three weeks before, in April, we had made 
 an attempt, but having ridden all the way from the Troad 
 the same morning, and the water being of an icy chilness, 
 we found it necessary to postpone the completion till the 
 frigate anchored below the castles, when we swam the straits, 
 as just stated; entering a considerable way above the 
 European, and landing below the Asiatic, fort. Chevalier 
 says that a young Jew swam the same distance for his mis- 
 tress ; and Oliver mentions its having been done by a Nea- 
 politan ; but our consul, Tarragona, remembered neither of 
 these circumstances, and tried to dissuade us from the at- 
 tempt. A number of the Salsette's crew were known to have 
 accomplished a greater distance; and the only thing that 
 surprised me was, that, as doubts had been entertained of 
 the truth of Leander's story, no traveller had ever endea- 
 voured to ascertain its practicability. 
 
 Note % page 39. 
 
 Ztw»I f/tf, caj ayawu/. 
 Zoe rnouySas agapo, or Zwi (j.5, <rds ayccvru, a Romaic expression 
 of tenderness : if I translate it I shall affront the gentlemen, 
 as it may seem that I supposed they could not ; and if I do 
 not I may affront the ladies. For fear of any misconstruc- 
 tion on the part of the latter I shall do so, begging pardon of 
 the learned. It means, u My life, I love you !" which sounds 
 very prettily in all languages, and is as much in fashion i n 
 
THE POEMS. * 143 
 
 Greece at this day as, Juvenal tells us, the two first words 
 were amongst the Roman ladies, whose erotic expressions 
 were all Hellenized. 
 
 Note 3, page 40, line 9. 
 By all the token-flowers that tell. 
 In the East (where ladies are not taught to write, lest they 
 should scribble assignations) flowers, cinders, pebbles, &c. 
 convey the sentiments of the parties by that universal deputy 
 of Mercury — an old woman. A cinder says, " I burn for 
 thee;" a bunch of flowers tied with hair, " Take me and fly j" 
 but a pebble declares — what nothing else can. 
 
 Note 4, page 41, line 3. 
 Though I fly to Istambol. 
 Constantinople. 
 
 Note 5, page 43, line 11. 
 
 And the seven-hilled city seeking, 
 Constantinople. " E7r7aXo<poy." 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 VQL. IV. U 
 
The subsequent poems were written at the request of my 
 friend, the Hon. D. Kinnaird, for a Selection of Hebrew Melodies, 
 and have been published, with the music, arranged, by Mr. 
 Braham and Mr. Nathan. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY. 
 
 I. 
 
 She walks in beauty, like the night 
 Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; 
 
 And all that's best of dark and bright 
 Meets in her aspect and her eyes : 
 
 Thus mellow'd to that tender light 
 Which heaven to gaudy day denies. 
 l 2' 
 
146 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 One shade the more, one ray the less, 
 Had half impair'd the nameless grace 
 
 Which waves in every raven tress, 
 Or softly lightens o'er her face ; 
 
 Where thoughts serenely sweet express 
 How pure r how dear their dwelling place. 
 
 III. 
 
 And on that cheek, and o'er that browy • 
 So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, 
 
 The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 
 But tell of days in goodness spent, 
 
 A mind at peace with all below, 
 A heart whose love is innocent! 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 14? 
 
 THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL 
 SWEPT. 
 
 I. 
 
 The harp the monarch minstrel swept, 
 The King of men, the loved of Heaven, 
 Which Music hallowed while she wept 
 
 O'er tones her heart of hearts had given, 
 
 Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven ! 
 It softened men of iron mould, 
 
 It gave them virtues not their own ; 
 No ear so dull, no soul so cold, 
 
 That felt not, fired not to the tone, 
 
 Till David's Lyre grew mightier than his throne ! 
 
148 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 It told the triumphs of our King, 
 
 It wafted glory to our God ; 
 It made our gladdened vallies ring, 
 
 The cedars bow, the mountains nod ; 
 Its sound aspired to Heaven and there abode ! 
 Since then, though heard on earth no more. 
 
 Devotion and her daughter Love 
 Still bid the bursting spirit soar 
 
 To sounds that seem as from above, 
 In dreams that day's broad light can not remove. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 149 
 
 IF THAT HIGH WORLD. 
 
 I. 
 
 If that high world, which lies heyond 
 
 Our own, surviving Love endears ; 
 If there the cherish'd heart be fond, 
 
 The eye the same, except in tears- 
 How welcome those untrodden spheres ! 
 
 How sweet this very hour to die ! 
 To soar from earth and find all fears 
 
 Lost in thy light — Eternity! 
 
150 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 It must be so : 'tis not for self 
 
 That we so tremble on the brink $ 
 And striving to o'erleap the gulph, 
 
 Yet cling to Being's severing link. 
 Oh ! in that future let us think 
 
 To hold each heart the heart that shares, 
 With them the immortal waters drink, 
 
 And soul in soul grow deathless theirs! 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 151 
 
 THE WILD GAZELLE. 
 
 I. 
 
 The wild gazelle on Judah's hills 
 
 Exulting yet may bound, 
 And drink from all the living rills 
 
 That gush on holy ground ; 
 Its airy step and glorious eye 
 May glance in tameless transport by : 
 
152 HEBREW MELODIES, 
 
 II. 
 
 A step as fleet, an eye more bright, 
 
 Hath Judah witness'd there ; 
 And o'er her scenes of lost delight 
 
 Inhabitants more fair. 
 The cedars wave on Lebanon, 
 But Judah's statelier maids are gone! 
 
 III. 
 
 More blest each palm that shades those plains 
 
 Than Israel's scattered race ; 
 For, taking root, it there remains 
 
 In solitary grace : 
 It cannot quit its place of birth, 
 It will not live in other earth. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 153 
 
 IV. 
 
 But we must wander witheringly, 
 
 In other lands to die ; 
 And where our fathers' ashes be, 
 
 Our own may never lie : 
 Our temple hath not left a stone, 
 And Mockery sits on Salem's throne. 
 
154 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 OH ! WEEP FOR THOSE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Oh ! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, 
 Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream ; 
 Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell ; 
 Mourn — where their God hath dwelt the Godless 
 dwell ! 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 155 
 
 II. 
 
 And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet ? 
 And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet ? 
 And Judah's melody once more rejoice 
 The hearts that leap'd before its heavenly voice ? 
 
 HI. 
 
 Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, 
 How shall ye flee away and be at rest! 
 The wild-dove hath her nest, the fox his cave, 
 Mankind their Country— Israel but the grave! 
 
156 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 ON JORDAN'S BANKS. 
 
 I. 
 
 On Jordan's banks the Arabs' camels stray, 
 On Sion's hill the False One's votaries pray, 
 The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steep — 
 Yet there — even there — Oh God ! thy thunders sleep : 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 15? 
 
 II. 
 
 There — where thy finger scorch'd the tablet stone! 
 There — where thy shadow to thy people shone ! 
 Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire : 
 Thyself — none living see and not expire ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Oh ! in the lightning let thy glance appear ! 
 Sweep from his shiver'd hand the oppressor's spear: 
 How long by tyrants shall thy land be trod ! 
 How long thy temple worshipless, Oh God ! 
 
158 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 I. 
 
 Since our Country, our God — Oh, my Sire! 
 Demand that thy Daughter expire ; 
 Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow — 
 Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now ! 
 
HEBREW MEL0DIE3. 159 
 
 n. 
 
 And the voice of my mourning is o'er, 
 And the mountains behold me no more : ! 
 If the hand that I love lay me low, 
 There cannot be pain in the blow ! 
 
 III. 
 
 And of this, oh, my Father ! be sure — 
 That the blood of thy child is as pure 
 As the blessing I beg ere it flow, 
 And the last thought that soothes me below. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Though the virgins of Salem lament, 
 Be the judge and the hero unbent ! 
 I have won the great battle for thee, 
 And my Father and Country are free ! 
 
 VOL. IV. M 
 
160 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 V. 
 
 When this blood of thy giving hath gush'tl, 
 When the voice that thou lovest is hush'd, 
 Let my memory still be thy pride, 
 And forget not I smiled as I died ! 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. ]6l 
 
 OH ! SNATCHED AWAY IN BEAUTY'S 
 BLOOM. 
 
 I. 
 
 OH ! SNATCHEP AWAY IN BEAUTY'S BLOOM,, 
 
 On thee shall press no ponderous tomb ; 
 But on thy turf shall roses rear 
 Their leaves, the earliest of the year ; 
 
 And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom : 
 
 m 2 
 
162 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 And oft by yon blue gushing stream 
 Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, 
 
 And feed deep thought with many a dream, 
 And lingering pause and lightly tread ; 
 Fond wreteh ! as if her step disturb'd the dead ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Away ; we know that tears are vain, 
 
 That death nor heeds nor hears distress : 
 
 Will this unteach us to complain? 
 Or make one mourner weep the less ? 
 
 And thou — who tell'st me to forget, 
 
 Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 163 
 
 MY SOUL IS DARK. 
 
 I. 
 
 My soul is dark — Oh! quickly string 
 
 The harp I yet can brook to hear ; 
 And let thy gentle fingers fling 
 
 Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. 
 If in this heart a hope be dear, 
 
 That sound shall charm it forth again ; 
 If in these eyes there lurk a tear, 
 
 'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain : 
 
164 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 But bid the strain be wild and deep, 
 
 Nor let thy notes of joy be first: 
 I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep, 
 
 Or else this heavy heart will burst ; 
 For it hath been by sorrow nurst, 
 
 And ach'd in sleepless silence long; 
 And now 'tis doom'd to know the worst, 
 
 And break at once — or yield to song. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 165 
 
 I SAW THEE WEEP. 
 
 I. 
 
 I saw thee weep — the big bright tear 
 
 Came o'er that eye of blue ; 
 And then methought it did appear 
 
 A violet dropping dew : 
 I saw thee smile — the sapphire's blaze 
 
 Beside thee ceased to shine ; 
 It could not match the living rays 
 
 That fill'd that glance of thine. 
 
166 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 As clouds from yonder sun receive 
 
 A deep and mellow die, 
 Which scarce the shade of coming eve 
 
 Can banish from the sky, 
 Those smiles unto the moodiest mind 
 
 Their own pure joy impart ; 
 Their sunshine leaves a glow behind 
 
 That lightens o'er the heart. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 1^7 
 
 THY DAYS ARE DONE, 
 
 I. 
 
 Thy days are done, thy fame begun; 
 
 Thy country's strains record 
 The triumphs of her chosen Son, 
 
 The slaughters of his sword ! 
 The deeds he did, the fields he won, 
 
 The freedom he restored ! 
 
1(58 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 Though thou art falFn, while we are free 
 Thou shalt not taste of death ! 
 
 The generous blood that flowed from thee 
 Disdain'd to sink beneath : 
 
 Within our veins its currents be, 
 Thy spirit on our breath ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Thy name, our charging hosts along, 
 
 Shall be the battle- word ! 
 Thy fall, the theme of choral song 
 
 From virgin voices poured ! 
 To weep would do thy glory wrong} 
 
 Thou shalt not be deplored. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. l6Q 
 
 IT IS THE HOUR. 
 
 It is the hour when from the boughs 
 The nightingale's high note is heard ; 
 
 It is the hour when lovers' vows 
 
 Seem sweet in every whispered word ; 
 
 And gentle winds and waters near 
 
 Make music to the lonely ear. 
 
170 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 Each flower the clews have lightly wet, 
 
 And in the sky the stars are met ; 
 
 And on the wave is deeper blue, 
 
 And on the leaf a browner hue ; 
 
 And in the Heaven that clear obscure, 
 
 So softly dark, and darkly pure, 
 
 That follows the decline of day 
 
 As twilight melts beneath the moon away. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 1/1 
 
 SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST 
 BATTLE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Warriors and Chiefs! should the shaft or the sword 
 Pierce me in leading the host of the Lord, 
 Heed not the corse, though a king's, in your path : 
 Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath ! 
 
V/2 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow, 
 Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe, 
 Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet ! 
 Mine be the doom which they dared not to meet. 
 
 III. 
 
 Farewell to others, but never we part, 
 Heir to my royalty, son of my heart ! 
 Bright is the diadem, boundless the sway, 
 Or kingly the death, which awaits us to-day! 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. J/3 
 
 SAUL. 
 
 I. 
 
 Thou whose spell can raise the dead, 
 Bid the prophet's form appear. 
 m Samuel, raise thy buried head! 
 I King, behold the phantom seer!" 
 
1/4 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 Earth yawn'd ; he stood the centre of a cloud : 
 Light changed its hue, retiring from his shroud. 
 Death stood all glassy in his fixed eye ; 
 His hand was withered, and his veins were dry ; 
 His foot, in bony whiteness, glittered there, 
 Shrunken and sinewless, and ghastly bare : 
 From lips that moved not and unbreathing frame, 
 Like cavern'd winds, the hollow accents came. 
 Saul saw, and fell to earth, as falls the oak, 
 At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke. 
 
 II. 
 
 " Why is my sleep disquieted ? 
 " Who is he that calls the dead ? 
 " Is it thou, Oh King ? Behold 
 " Bloodless are these limbs, and cold: 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 175 
 
 " Such are mine ; and such shall be 
 
 " Thine, to-morrow, when with me; 
 
 " Ere the coming day is done, 
 
 " Such shalt thou be, such thy son. 
 
 11 Fare thee well, but for a day ; 
 
 " Then we mix our mouldering clay. 
 
 ' ' Thou, thy race, lie pale and low, 
 
 " Pierced by shafts of many a bow ; 
 
 " And the falchion by thy side, 
 
 " To thy heart, thy hand shall guide : 
 
 " Crownless, breathless, headless fall, 
 
 " Son and sire, the house of Saul!" 
 
1/6 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 " ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE PREACHER. 
 
 I. 
 
 Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine, 
 And health and youth possess'd me ; 
 
 My goblets blush'd from every vine, 
 And lovely forms caress'd me ; 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes, 
 And felt my soul grow tender -, 
 
 All earth can give, or mortal prize, 
 Was mine of regal splendour. 
 
 II. 
 
 I strive to number o'er what days 
 Remembrance can discover, 
 
 Which all that life or earth displays 
 Would lure me to live over. 
 
 There rose no day, there roll'd no hour 
 
 Of pleasure unembittered ; 
 And not a trapping deck'd my power 
 
 That gall'd not while it glittered. 
 
 N 2 
 
178 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 III. 
 
 The serpent of the field, by art 
 And spells, is won from harming ; 
 
 But that which coils around the heart, 
 Oh ! who hath power of charming } 
 
 It will not list to wisdom's lore, 
 Nor music's voice can lure it j 
 
 But there it stings for evermore 
 The soul that must endure it. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 1JQ 
 
 WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFER. 
 ING CLAY. 
 
 I. 
 
 When coldness wraps this suffering clay, 
 
 Ah, whither strays the immortal mind ? 
 It cannot die, it cannot stay, 
 
 But leaves its darken'd dust behind. 
 Then, unembodied, doth it trace 
 
 By steps each planet's heavenly way? 
 Or fill at once the realms of space, 
 
 A thing of eyes, that all survey ? 
 
!80 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 Eternal, boundless, undecay'd, 
 
 A thought unseen, but seeing all, 
 All, all in earth, or skies display'd, 
 
 Shall it survey, shall it recal : 
 Each fainter trace that memory holds 
 
 So darkly of departed years, 
 In one broad glance the soul beholds, 
 
 And all, that was, at once appears. 
 
 III. 
 
 Before Creation peopled earth, 
 
 Its eye shall roll through chaos back ; 
 
 And where the furthest heaven had birth, 
 The spirit trace its rising track. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 1S1 
 
 And where the future mars or makes, 
 
 Its glance dilate o'er all to be, 
 While sun is quench'd or system breaks, 
 
 Fix'd in its own eternity. 
 
 IV- 
 
 Above or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear, 
 
 It lives all passionless and pure : 
 An age shall fleet like earthly year ; 
 
 Its years as moments shall endure. 
 Away, away, without a wing, 
 
 O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly ; 
 A nameless and eternal thing, 
 
 Forgetting what it was to die. 
 
182 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 VISION OF BELSHAZZAR. 
 
 T. 
 
 The King was on his throne, 
 
 The Satraps throng' d the hall ; 
 A thousand bright lamps shone 
 
 O'er that high festival. 
 A thousand cups of gold, 
 
 In Judah deem'd divine — 
 Jehovah's vessels hold 
 
 The godless Heathen's wine ! 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 183 
 
 II. 
 
 In that same hour and hall, 
 
 The fingers of a hand 
 Came forth against the wall, 
 
 And wrote as if on sand : 
 The fingers of a man ; — 
 
 A solitary hand 
 Along the letters ran, 
 
 And traced them like a wand. 
 
 III. 
 
 The monarch saw, and shook, 
 
 And bade no more rejoice ; 
 All bloodless wax'd his look, 
 
 And tremulous his voice. 
 
184 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 " Let the men of lore appear, 
 " The wisest of the earth, 
 
 " And expound the words of fear, 
 " Which mar our royal mirth." 
 
 IV. 
 
 Chaldea's seers are good, 
 
 But here they have no skill ; 
 And the unknown letters stood 
 
 Untold and awful still. 
 And Babel's men of age 
 
 Are wise and deep in lore ; 
 But now they were not sage, 
 
 They saw — but knew no more. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 185 
 
 V. 
 
 A captive in the land, 
 
 A stranger and a youth, 
 He heard the king's command, 
 
 He saw that writing's truth. 
 The lamps around were bright, 
 
 The prophecy in view ; 
 He read it on that night, — 
 
 The morrow proved it true. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " Belshazzar's grave is made, 
 " His kingdom pass'd away, 
 
 ' ' He in the balance weighed, 
 " Is light and worthless clay. 
 
186 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 "■ The shroud, his robe of state, 
 " His canopy, the stone ; 
 
 t( The Mede is at his gate ! 
 " The Persian on his throne ! 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 187 
 
 SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS! 
 
 Sun of the sleepless ! melancholy star! 
 Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far, 
 That show'st the darkness thou canst not dispel, 
 How like art thou to joy remembered well ! 
 So gleams the past, the light of other days. 
 Which shines, but warms not with its powerless rays ; 
 A night-beam Sorrow watcheth to behold, 
 Distinct, but distant — clear — but, oh how cold ! 
 
J8S HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU 
 DEEM'ST IT TO BE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Were mybosomasfalseasthoudeem'stitto be, 
 I need not have wandered from far Galilee ; 
 It was but abjuring my creed to efface 
 The curse which, thou say'st, is the crime of my 
 race. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 189 
 
 II. 
 
 If the bad never triumph, then God is with thee ! 
 If the slave only sin, thou art spotless and free ! 
 If the Exile on earth is an Outcast on high, 
 Live on in thy faith, but in mine I will die. 
 
 III. 
 
 I have lost for that faith more than thou canst 
 
 bestow, 
 As the God who permits thee to prosper doth know; 
 In his hand is my heart and my hope — and in thine 
 The land and the life which for him I resign. 
 
190 HEBREW MELODIES 
 
 HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE. 
 
 I. 
 Oh, Mariamne ! now for thee 
 
 The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding; 
 Revenge is lost in agony, 
 
 And wild remorse to rage succeeding, 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 101 
 
 Oh, Mariamne ! where art thou? 
 
 Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading : 
 Ah, could'st thou — thou would'st pardon now, 
 
 Though heaven were to my prayer unheeding. 
 
 II, 
 
 And is she dead ? — and did they dare 
 
 Obey my phrensy's jealous raving ? 
 My wrath but doom'd my own despair : 
 
 The sword that smote her 's o'er me waving. — 
 But thou art cold, my murdered love ! 
 
 And this dark heart is vainly craving 
 For her who soars alone above, 
 
 And leaves my soul unworthy saving* 
 
 VOL. IV, 
 
192 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 III. 
 
 She's gone, who shared my diadem j 
 
 She sunk, with her my joys entombing ; 
 I swept that flower from Judah's stem 
 
 Whose leaves for me alone were blooming. 
 And mine's the guilt, and mine the hell, 
 
 This bosom's desolation dooming 5 
 And I have earn'd those tortures well, 
 
 Which unconsumed are still consuming ! 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. I93 
 
 ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF 
 JERUSALEM BY TITUS. 
 
 I. 
 
 From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome 
 I beheld thee, Oh Sion ! when rendered to Rome : 
 'Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames of 
 
 thy fall 
 Flash'd back on the. last glance I gave to thy wall. 
 
 o 2 
 
104 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 I look'd for thy temple, I look'd for my home, 
 And forgot for a moment my bondage to come ; 
 I beheld but the death-fire that fed on thy fane, 
 And the fast-fettered hands that made vengeance in 
 vain. 
 
 III. 
 On many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed 
 Had reflected the last beam of day as it blazed ; 
 While I stood on the height, and beheld the decline 
 Of the rays from the mountain that shone on thy 
 shrine. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 10,5 
 
 IV. 
 
 And now on that mountain I stood on that day, 
 But I mark'd not the twilight beam melting away ; 
 Oh! would that the lightning had glared in its stead, 
 And the thunderbolt burst on the conqueror's head ! 
 
 V. 
 But the Gods of the Pagan shall never profane 
 The shrine where Jehovah disdain'd not to reign ; 
 And scattered and scorn'd as thy people may be, 
 Our worship, oh Father ! is only for thee. 
 
195 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT 
 DOWN AND WEPT. 
 
 I. 
 
 We sate down and wept by the waters 
 Of Babel, and thought of the day 
 
 When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters, 
 Made Salem's high places his prey ; 
 
 And ye., oh her desolate daughters ! 
 Were scattered all weeping away. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 197 
 
 II. 
 
 While sadly we gazed on the river 
 Which roll'd on in freedom below, 
 
 They demanded the song; but, oh never 
 That triumph the stranger shall know ! 
 
 May this right hand be withered for ever, 
 Ere it string our high harp for the foe ! 
 
 Ill, 
 
 On the willow that harp is suspended, 
 Oh Salem ! its sound should be free ; 
 
 And the hour when thy glories were ended 
 But left me that token of thee : 
 
 And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended 
 With the voice of the spoiler by me ! 
 
193 HEBREW MELODIES, 
 
 THE DESTRUCTION OF SEMNACHERIB, 
 
 I. 
 
 The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, 
 And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; 
 And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, 
 When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 1QQ 
 
 II. 
 
 Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, 
 That host with their banners at sunset were seen : 
 Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath 
 
 blown, 
 That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. 
 
 III. 
 
 For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, 
 And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd ; 
 And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, 
 And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew 
 still jf 
 
200 HEBREW MELODIES. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, 
 But through it there roll'd not the breath of his 
 
 pride : 
 And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, 
 And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 
 
 V. 
 
 And there lay the rider distorted and pale, 
 
 With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his 
 
 mail 5 
 And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, 
 The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 201 
 
 VI. 
 
 And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, 
 And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; 
 And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, 
 Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! 
 
202 HEBREW MELOD1HS. 
 
 FROM JOB. 
 
 I. 
 
 A spirit pass'd before me : I beheld 
 
 The face of Immortality unveil' d — 
 
 Deep sleep came down on ev'ry eye save mine- 
 
 And there it stood,— all formless — but divine : 
 
 Along my bones the creeping flesh did quake ; 
 
 And as my damp hair stifFen'd, thus it spake. 
 
HEBREW MELODIES. 203 
 
 II. 
 
 " Is man more just than God ? Is man more pure 
 Than he who deems even Seraphs insecure ? 
 Creatures of clay — vain dwellers in the dust t 
 The moth survives you, and are ye more just ? 
 Things of a day ! you wither ere the night, 
 Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light !" 
 
 THE END. 
 
T. DAVISON, Lombard-street, 
 Whitefriars, London.