DOBELL COLLECTION REMORSE; AND •»:- ^ i OTHER POEMS. Remorse— she ne'er forsakes us — A blood-hound staunch — she tracks our rapid step Through the wild labyrinth of youthful frenzy, Unheard, perchance, until old age hath tamed us ; Then in our lair, when time hath chill'd our joints, And maim'd our hope of combat, or of flight, We hear her deep-mouth' d bay, announcing all Of wrath and woe and punishment that bides us. LONDON: 1821. 205449 '13 H. M'Milian, Printer, Bow-Street, Gorent-Gardcn. CONTENTS PAGE Remorse, • ^ The Widow's Lament, 25 The Queen of May, , 37 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Stanzas, 51 Forget me not, ...*. 53 Song, 54 Christmas, 56 On Mr. Crabbe's " Edward Shore," 58 Written in an Album, 60 A Name, • 61 Written in a Book given me at four years old, 63 A Farewell, 64 Song, 66 On the Gipsey's Prophecy in Guy Mannering, 68 Stanzas, ,,,,, 70 Stanzas, 71 'Yo ********* ^^^ yo Written on a blank Leaf of Lalla Rookh, .,, 74 To an Infant, „,„^ ,, „ 76 w REMORSE. REMORSE. " One fatal remembrance— one sorrow that throws " Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes— " To which life nothing darker nor brighter can bring, " For which joy hath no balm— and affliction no sting.' IRISH MELODIES. I.- Yes ! I have well deserved the fate, The woe which you compassionate ; Guilt and remorse have wrought the pain Which rends my heart and sears my brain. Oh ! if our sufferings here may prove Atonement for our sins, above — If these avail, then even I May dare to look with hope on high. — If thou should' St ever feel the power Of Passion's wild and fearful hour, — If it should tempt thy sw3ps to stray Beyond the straight and even way, B 2 10 REMORSE. And break thro' Virtue's sacred laws — Think on my story then, — and pause. 2, I loved — adored: — 'twere hard to see Her whom I loved, nor love like me. Oh ! if there's one to whom was given A soul and form alike from heaven, — Whose ang-el features spoke within A spirit pure and free from sin, ^Twas her I loved — 'twas her, whose air Revealed the soul resplendent there — Whose heavenly nature spoke her best — Whose touching be?iuty — loveliest! 3. Yes, she was fair — but, oh ! much more The character her beauty wore : Her highly-gifted nature shone In every look, and word, and tone^ — In every feature was expressed Goodness of heart, which she possessed REMORSE. ir Beyond all measure :— in her face An eye the most unskilled could trace The brilliant talent — loftv mind — The strong sound sense we seldom find Even in man — while woman's soul Softened and feminized the whole. 4. How happy might have been our fate^ Had we not met and loved too late ! Hallowed had been our guilty llame. Nor led to sorrow, sin and shame. But she was wedded to another — Another's wife — and more- — a mother- — Another's wife, if wife it is Whose hand, but not whose heart, is his. Compulsion made her hand his own- Compulsion gives the hand alone. £ 5. How blessed her destiny had proved. If she had wedded one she loved— ri 12 KKMORSfi. If fate had matched her with a mmd Of kindred mould — of equal kind : For ne'er was heart so formed to know Love's brig-hfest-^— warmest-^purest glow- Never was such a noble mind-^ A soul so pure— a heart so* kind ! Fve seen her softer feeling-s moved. When she has talked of those she loved — I've seen the bitter tear-drop shed For dear ones numbered with the dead — I've known her tenderly assuage The infant's ails— the cares of age — With soothing words, and pitying eye, Tend the sick bed of poverty— Anxiously watch the ebbing breath. And smooth the thorny bed of death 1 In such a scene, at such an hour, 'Tis we appreciate Beauty's power-^ ^Tis then our hearts, our souls confess The full effect of loveliness ! Truly does woman then appear A spirit of a purer sphere— REMORSE. 13 A ministering' ang-el given. To shew on earth the attributes of Heaven ! Beats there the dull cold heart which sees And feels no force iti deeds like these ? My breast, at least, does not enfold A heart that's cast in such a ntould. 6. I loved — and w^as beloved — and then, The thoug-ht that I was loved again. Was joy to madness: and, although Pve wished, at times, it had not been so, I, even now, could not resign The feeling that she has been mine. No ! spite of all the guilt — the crime — The misery which since that time Has been my portion — yet, oh ! yet, 1 cannot wish we had not met ! 7. None ever loved like us : no th6ught, No feeling— no o^itii6li vs^i*6u«fht 14 REMORSE. On one alone — our heart, our mind. Grew into one — our souls combined — We lived but as one being* : this. This was the season of our bliss ; For then we still had stayed within The verge which touched on damning sin. But Virtue's sacred bounds once past. Guilt, sin and shame prevail at last. 8. One lovely eve we strolled tog-ether : ^Twas at that time when summer weather Decks the broad sky, as evening- closes. With its own blushing- tint of roses : When the hour after sun-set — the heart's own hour — Is felt with e'en more than its wonted power. And the summer beams of the sun that is set With a lovelier beauty linger yet. And send their flushes melting-ly through The liquid veil of the falling dew. With light, brilliant but soft and soothing toOe REMORSE. 15 All bosoms must have felt the power, The magic of this touching hour ; And, oh ! the charms of Nature move Doubly when viewed with those we love ! 9. The trees' embowering branches made. As evening waned, a deeper shade ; And the soft sound of water near. Was sweetly soothing to the ear. And still we lingered, lingered on. Till evening's latest light was gone ; And an enthralling languor stole Softer and softer o'er the soul ; And every hour we lingered longer. Reason grew weak, and passion stronger, — Why should I dwell upon the time. The scene and season of our crime ? Enough that reason, virtue failed — That passion, sin and guilt prevailed ! 10. Short are the joys which guilt bestows. Fleeting the pleasures passion knows — 16 REMORSE. Ere we have time to clutch them fast, The illusion is ovef, the vision past. Like the brilliant sparks df liquid light Which gleam in the oceaii-wave by night^ — For one short moment's space they quiver. Vivid and bright — then sink for ever ! Yes ! soon our sinful pleasures were flown — My guilt discovered — her shame made known — Dishonour for ever obscured her fame ; The taunts of the scornful were cast on her name ; They forced her children and her to part — That, that was more heavy than all at her heart ; She was carried away to some unknown spot. Beyond my reach, and I saw her not. 11. ♦ When met we next ? We met at last. When her hours were numbered, and flitted fast, When she drew with pain her shortening breath, And was lying reclined on the bed of death ; Her griefs Weie too great fot her fraihe to bear ; A broken heart had laid her thei*e. REMORSE. 17 Oh ! the heart kills many and many a one. Whose wasting- disease is known to none ; Or whose death is laid to sdmt^ dutwatd ill. When the worm within was the cause to kill. The fire decays frorri the fading* eye. Or, more painful siill, shines glas^ily ; The blooming cheek grow^ pal^ £ts 6lay, And the fair form shrinks and withers away ; The flesh grows more white, and the veins niore blue. And the mien more sad, but more lovely too. 'Tis no physical ailing which causes these, 'Tis the wound of the heart, the souFs disease: The mediciner's skill has no power ib save The sick of this sickness-^their cure is the gtkve ! 12. The damps of death were on her brow. Her once bright cheek was pallid now ; Her full blue eye was fixed and glazed ; She knew not them on whom it gazed : But at the moment when it fell On him she loved so long, so well, 18 REMORSK. E'en at that hour, its failing- sight Regained awhile its wonted light ; Though Death now almost froze it dim. Still, still it beamed with love on him ! '' We meet/' she said, '' before I die, '' And now, at last, meet guiltlessly ; '' I now, without a sin, may own '' The love Pvc felt for you alone. '' If e'er the heart of woman knew ** Affection fervent, tender, true, '' 'Twas that I felt— I feel for you ! '* And though from you alone arose " My guilt, and all its train of woes, *^ Yet may that God I soon shall see '' Forgive me, as 1 pardon thee ! ^' Oh ! it almost annuls the power *' Of terror in this awful hour, '' To know that, as I sink to rest, '' I shall be pillowed on thy breast ; That, as my eyes are closed in night. They bend on thee their sinking sight ; '^ That, ere my lips grow stiff in death, '' They bless thee with their latest breath !" << (( REMORSE. 19 She paused, and prayed to the Most Hig*h With deep and fervent piety. And bade me join ; but, oh ! my mind Was not like hers, composed, resigned. I could not pray: to see her die, Stag'gered and stunned each faculty ; My heart seemed stiffened into stone — I knew and saw but her alone; I only felt that Death would sever. In one short hour, our hearts for ever ! la Within my circling arms she lay. As life slow-lingering- ebbed away ; And with one deep short sigh, at last. Convulsed and quick, her spirit passed ! To me her latest look was given ; Her dying words were, '^ Bless him. Heaven !'' But, oh ! I heard them not ; my head Swam with the shock — my reason lied : And all is blank — for years my brain Knew not the light of sense again. i 20 REMORSE. But one Xhmg 1 shall ne'er forget — I felt it then — I feel it yet-r- It was the sound thp hard e^irth gave. Thrown on the coffin in her grave ! Mad as I was, I understood That sound full well — it froze niy blood : And, oh ! for many, many a year. That sound was ever in my ear. 14. The years which then succeeded, seem An endless agonizing dream : Some vague ideas I have of pain. Like coals of fire upon my brain ; For in that space I never wept-r- I scarce took rest— for if I slept, Visions of wild and fearful pain Made it a bliss to wake again. I thought I still could hear her bless me. Could feel her failing arms caress me ; I still imagined that i heard Her last deep sigh; her parting word, Pf • REMORSE. 21 And saw the cold grave yawn, and sever Her body from my sight for ever ! 15. Long every means were tried in vain. To woo my reason home again ; For, ah ! what human art can find A balm to heal a wounded mind ? At length they brought me to the scene In which our guilty joys had been — At the same soothing hour of even, Beneath the same enchanting Heaven : The sinking light, the stream's soft sound. The touching calm which reigned around ; All, all which struck th^ ear, the ey^, The hour's, the spot's identity, 'Wakened the sense of what had passed, When I had seen that loved place last : Tlie reason which so long had slept. Dawned into life oncp more— I wept ! 22 REMORSE. My mind returned — my soul ag-ain Was 'wakened to the sense of pain ; Again it felt the full, full force Of sorrow, anguish, guilt, remorse : Yes ! it did feel — still, still it feels That one deep pang which nothing heals ; That one corroding thought, which drains My very life-blood from my veins ; The bitter, bitter, ceaseless thought Of all my sinful passion wrought ; Of her I loved, who loved me — her To whom I proved a murderer ! 17. Time has passed on ; but what I feel. Even time itself can never heal. Time dries the tear, and hushes the groan Which spring from grief, when His grief alone ; But when the heart with remorse is riven For wrong to man, and offence to Heaven, REMORSE. The canker which preys on the inmost fold Of the victim breast, never quits its hold : The shaft is stricken, the barb is stuck fast, And it rankles w^ithin, till it kills at last. 18. Oh ! it is not in passion's power To g-ive one truly happy hour ; A while, a little while, we seem To taste of Rapture's short, short dream ; But scarce sufficient does it last, To shew 'tis real, ere 'tis past ; And then, alas ! we 'wake again To certain grief, to lasting pain. 'Twas thus with me — the joy I knew Was desperate — but was transient too : My grief, my pain, are with me still ; They pass not, and they never will. 23 THE WIDOW'S LAMENT. •dulces reminiscitur Aigos ," VIRGIL. 02 THE WIDOW'S LAMENT. " Almurah, resolving to enclose a large tract of ground for hunting and ** sporting, commanded the inhabitants of fourteen hundred vil- " luges to be expelled from the limits of his intended enclosure." TALES OF THE GENII. 1. The latest sunbeams linger yet Upon the distant minaret— The clouds which skirt the western heaven Glow with the golden tints of even. Ne'er can the northern soul conceive The touching charm of tropic eve, — When the fierce sun, which through the day Curses our clime, has passed away, And as he seeks his fiery bed. Dyes the whole sky with burning red ! — When from the sea the breeze sweeps by, As sweet as beauty's earliest sigh, 28 THE widow's lament. And wafts the coolness which the wave Of the unbounded ocean gave ; And drooping plant and vsrithering flower Expand to meet the evening* hour. And the sweet season spreads around If s gifts of scent, and sight, and sound, Which to each living thing dispense ^^ • Their all-reviving influence. 2. At this fair hour, a sorrowing band Began their weary way — (1) Driven from out their native land. The world before them lay : In the wide waste they went to roam — The spoiler had destroyed their home : It was the Sultan's will to make A mighty hunting forest there ; To raise the thicket and the brake For the fowl's nest — the wild beast's lair. The despot issued his command — Destruction swept throughout the land — THE widow's lament. 29 An hundred hamlets were laid waste ; The abodes of thousands were displaced : — All, all were turned into the wild. Woman and infant — ag-ed man and child ; All sent forth in the waste to roam,— Torn from their country — driven from their home ! 3. The troop of mourners slowly wound Over the well known hills which bound Their own horizon : each one cast A fond look backward as he past ; Each lingered as he crossed the steep. And the women would pause on the top and weep ! And even the men, as they strove to cheer Their wives and children, felt the tear From the tightened throat and breast arise. Till, repressed in vain, it gushed from their eyes. For it softened their soul, and made their heart melt. To leave the spot where they ever had dwelt ; A spot fair in truth — and such ever will. To those who love them, seem fairer still. 30 THE widow's lament. 4. Last of the stragg-ling group, there went An aged woman — she was bent As much with sorrow as with years ; Her failing eyes filled fast with tears, As she looked on the smiling scene which lay Beneath her, beaming in the sun's last ray. She stopped and gazed : the very breeze. Which whistled through the well-known trees, Was as the voice of an old friend — all, all She looked on could not but recall The thoughts of every thing most dear. She wiped away the scalding tear. And, struggling with the choaking sigh, Lamented thus her misery. 5. " Well may these tears of anguish flow From thee, my only home, to go : It is to sever My very heart-strings : thou hast been The dearly, deeply cherished scene THE widow's lament. 31 Of all that grows into the heart — Those charities which form a part Of the souPs self — which Time in vain Strikes with his chilly fingers — they remain For ever ! '' Thou wast the place where first I drew The breath of Heaven ; where first I knew The sound of my mother's voice, and breathed Her name — that long-ed-for sound which sank To her soul — while doating-ly she wreathed Her fondling- arms round me, and drank My earliest words, and pressM me To her heart, and bless'd me ! 7. " Beneath thy forest's peaceful shade My childhood's earliest footsteps strayed, Its earliest pranks and frolics played. Its earliest pleasures knew — 32 THE widow's LAMKNT. Since then full three score years have past- And could I think that now, at last, 1 should on the wide world be cast — Be torn, dear home, from yon? 8. " Thou wast the scene which saw me g-ive My faith to him who is no more— But who has never ceased to live In my heart's core. In thee, too, I in my turn felt Those joys which cause the heart to melt — More pure, more perfect than all other^^ The hallowed feeling^s of a mother ! Yon mosque, whose simple spire now gleams Beneath the sun's receding* beams, Has daily thrice beheld me there, Since first these lips could lisp a prayer ; (2) And there, I trusted, when I died, To have been laid by Hassan's side. THE widow's lament. 33 9. ^' And must I then the hope resign, Dearest, to mix my dust with thine? — Must I then leave the sainted shade, Where thou, and all my sires are laid? (3) Oh ! Sultan, Sultan, dost thou think That lowly hearts can't feel distress — • Deem'st thou that we unmov'd can drink So deep a draug-ht of bitterness ? A heart like thine could never know. Like us, this helpless hopeless woe ; Or feel how dear the ties which bind us To all we for ever leave behind us ! 10. Thou gav'st the fell command, which laid Fair places waste, and dwellings low ; One ruthless word of thine hath made Tears from a thousand eyes to flow ! Like the Simoom's unsparing breath. Thou spread'st destruction, waste, and death ! 34 THE WIDOW'S LAMENT, Where smiling dwelling's late have been, Will appear one savage hunting scene ; What is to-day the abode of men. To-morrow will be the tiger's den ! This night full many a head will lie On the cold earth, beneath the sky ; And yet we envy not thy bed — The Widow's curse is on thy head ! Oh ! Sultan, in thy boundless power. Little thou deem'st of one like me; Yet, when we meet at the judgment hour. For worlds I would not change with thee ! 11. ** The sun is set — the shadows fall Around my dwelling — and on all Which I have loved — and these old eyes Will never again see the sun arise On that horizon. Fare thee well. My early home I Tm now to dwell In stranger lands. My straining sight Strives with the thickening gloom of night ; THE widow's lament. 35 And even now I scarce can se^ Thy humble thatch — but never, never Will my heart cease to doat on thee — Farewell, my home, farewell for ever!" m THK widow's LAMKNT. NOTE S. (1) *^ At this fair hour a sorrowing band Began their weary way. >» In the East, the heats of the day are so intense, that journeys are usually begun at sun-set, and continued through the night. (2) *' Has daily thrice beheld me there. Since first these lips could lisp a prayer." The rigid Mussulmans attend the mosque for prayers three times a-day — at day-break, at noon, and at siin-set. (3) " Must I then leave the sainted shade. Where thou and all my sires are laid?" It is well known, that to most nations of the East, and indeed to almost every people imperfectly civilized, to be driven from the tombs of their fathers, is the severest blow which can be dealt to them. THE QUEEN OF MAY. THE QUEEN OF MAY* " EUe etoit de ce monde ou les plus belles choses " Ont le pire destin — " Et, rose, elle a vecu ce que vivent les roses, " L'espace d'un matin." MALHERBE. The day has dawned on a morning- of spring*. When all the earth seems blossoming : The sun is not up, but his forerunning* ray Has arisen, to lig*ht the First of May. There's scarcely a cloud in the sky so blue. And the air is fresh, but is balmy too — For at this sweet season, the advancing sun Almost joins Summer and Spring* in one. * The idea of these stanzas is taken from an article in the Sketch Book, entitled, '^ The Pride of the Village." D 40 THE QUEEN OF MAY. That breeze has added a brighter streak Of red to many a youthful cheek — Young* blood flows faster — young* hearts are more light, When they meet on a morning-, so bonny and brig-ht. And each maiden's bosom a posy shows Of the violet sweet, and the pale primrose — And each youth has a bunch of the earliest thorn, Which seems to have bloomM for its own May- morn. And among them in rural state they bring A wreath of the fairest flowers of Spring; ^Tis the festival's garland — the crown of the day For Ellen, their chosen Queen of May. Ellen, the praise of the country-side — The beloved of all — the hamlet's pride — More lovely, more blooming, more bright, more fair' Than all the May-flowers which blossomed there. THE QUEEN OF MAY. 41 She had that full and dewy blue eye Which, when at rest, beams meltingly ; But, by feeling- roused, sends a living- flash Of fire thro' the fring-e of its lengthened lash. She had not the villager's ruddy hue— Her cheek was clearer, and paler too ; But, how lovely its red, when the soul within, With a delicate flush carnationed the skin. Her step was elastic- — her stature tall — Her figure was light, but round withal, And she had that grace of motion, which will Make even beauty more beautiful still. They placed the wreath on her bright brown hair , She was Lady of May^ — she was Queen of the Fair ! And, surrounded by beauty, and youth, there was none Could at all compare with that loveliest one. d2 42 THE QUEEN OF MAY. All eyes followed her form in the dance ; But there was one whose unholy glance Gleamed with the dark infernal fire Of lawless passion — of evil desire. And was there a mind could think amiss Towards a creature so lovely — so pure as this? Could this scene of innocence harbour vice? Yes ! — Satan could enter Paradise. And her innocent ear for the first time heard The insidious sound of the honey'd word. Which startles not — but by seeming pure. Makes its deadly venom hidden and sure. Oh ! when the glance of a high-born eye Beams on the lowly, wooingly — When a lordly tongue breathes a supplicant word. Unmoved can that look be seen — that accent be heard? » THE QUEEN OF MAY. 43 Ellen went to her home that nig^ht, With a spirit more proud, but a heart less light ; And the varying- thoug-hts of an unquiet breast For the first time troubled her innocent rest. Why should I dwell on a tale oft told? The story is simple — and trite — and old ; But the victim feels not one pang the less, That many have known the same distress. Poor Ellen trusted the sounds which hung In deceitful words, on a glozing tongue ; And the look of love, which some so well Can make almost irresistible. Oh ! fly at the first, for when once such art Has won its way to the trusting heart, Though Virtue be then cast aside, the ear Cannot turn from the words of lips so dear. 44 THE QUEEN OF MAY. Her vision of happiness swiftly flew, Short — oh, how short 1 — was the joy she knew— Her lover left her ; and from that day Poor Ellen wasted, and pined away. The freezing- tear would steal from her eye, Till she g-rew too weak even to cry : And for hours she would gaze, till her sight grew dim, On a braid of hair which was given by him. Who now would have known the bright Queen of May ? Her glance of light had faded away ; And that eye, which spoke to the hearts of all. Was glassy, and sunken, and hollow and small. Her rounded arm shrank to a bagging skin. You could almost see through — 'twas so white — so thin ; And that foot which was wont so lightly to bound, Now slowly and^ flatly trailed on the ground. THE QUEEN OF MAY. 45 Her face assumed that appalling- air. Which it has when Death is written there ; And her form became so wasted and thin. You scarce could believe it had life within. Her wound was cureless — Oh ! those which bleed From a hand we love, are deadly indeed — She rejoiced to die—she welcomed the tomb — To her it had no shadow of gloom. She wasted and wasted : day by day, The lingering's of life slowly ebbed away. Till, at leng-th, she exhaled her last feeble breath. And her wounded spirit reposed in death. ^Twas a chill, and damp, and misty day. When the sky is obscured by a dirty grey, And when if the sun gleams strug'gling'ly out, The scene is even more sad than without. 46 THE QUEEN OF MAY. And the drizzling rain, and the wintry blast. Strike on the leaf as it withers fast — Dank yellow checquered with foul black spots, Is its festering hue as it sickens and rots. And wailing Autumn's dark days were gone. And the darker of Winter were hastening on ; And the gloom of the season was gloomier yet, From the gusty wind, and the daggling wet. The funeral of Ellen passed slowly by — The footsteps themselves sounded mournfully: The young girls who strewed white flowers on the way. Were the same who had crowned her the Queen of May. Is this the fair creature on whom the eye Was wont to dwell so delightedly? Is the lovely and young become a thing From which Nature shrinks with shuddering ? THE QUEEN OF MAY, 47 :i Oh ! Beauty, what art thou — that thus we see All trace of thee vanish so suddenly? That thus the soul sickens to look upon, Even of the lovely, this loveliest one. They went thro' the g-arden, where the flowers which grew Under her care, had withered too ; They passed by the May-pole, and over the green Which had witnessed her mimic reign as Queen. They passed the place where she first gave ear To the fatal tale of a tongue too dear — And the very spot where the first young kiss Had awakened the soul itself to bliss A sorrowing tear sprung to every eye. As they saw the mourning troop go by — A pitying word fell from every tongue. For the death of the lovely — the loved — the young. 48 THE QUEEN OF MAY. They came to the church-yard — the slow, deep toll. Heavily swung* to the shrinking* soul ; The fat black earth lay heaped in a mound. And skulls and bones were strewed around. The touching" and beautiful prayer was said. With which the living lament the dead — The corpse was laid to its fellow clay. And the earth closed over the Queen of May! MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. I MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. STANZAS. 1. Oh ! that this life of woe were past. And I were in my grave at last ! That this seared heart, and throbbing' head. Reposed in their sepulchral bed ! There would my sins and sorrows cease, I there should be, at last, in peace. 2. There I no more should feel the force Of love — sin — sorrow — guilt — remorse. My wearied spirit there would rest. For there the thought would leave my breast, Of all the passions wild which moved me, or lier 1 loved — of her who loved me. 52 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 3. Yes ! were I dead, it would not be A sin for her to think on me — She then might shed a guiltless tear For him who, living, held her dear. And pray the guilt might be forgiven. Of all his wrongs towards her, and Heaven ! MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 53 FORGET ME NOT. L Forget me not ! though now we part- And part, alas ! to meet uo more ; Remember that there beats a heart Which loves thee to its inmost core. 2. We part — and had we never met, Happy had it been for thee : My love has been thy bane — but yet. Oh ! cease not to remember me ! 3. My passion served but to increase The sorrows of a suffering lot. To mar still more thy bosom's peace: But still, oh! still — forget me not! 04 imSCELl.ANROUS POKMS. SONG. *Tis that dear, dear song* Pve loved so long-, Which you used to sing- for me, love — My heart is wrung To hear it sung* By any one but thee, love. My souFs self drank The sounds which sank From your lips in tones so sweet, love — And that eye of light Grew still more bright, As the lay caused our looks to meet, love. Those eyes are shut — Those lips are mute — jWiscellaneous poems. 5S That voice for ever is floWn, love — Oh, never again Let me hear the strain Which I used to call your own, love ! E 56 MISCELLANEOUS POEMJ^. CHRISTMAS. Christmas returns — but with it comes no more The light and joyous spirit, which of yore Was wont to make this old halPs echoes ring- With song, and dance, and mirth, and wassailing ! The frolic revel — chastened by high sense — The sparkling wit — the social eloquence ; The charm of that exalted mirth we see. When Genius gives its aid to Gaiety — All these are gone ! and this beloved scene Now only serves to tell of what has been. Oh ! what a mournful pleasure haunts the sight Of scenes of former joy — of past delight ; 'Tis as the corse of one but newly dead — The form's unaltered, but the soul is fled ! I MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 57 And His so here; — the leaves which decked the tree In all its summer pride, have ceased to be ; By Winter's withering hand of all bereft, Noug-ht but the cold bare leafless trunk is left ! Christmas Eve^ 1820. e2 58 ^MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ON MR. CRABBERS ^^ EDWARD SHORE.' ^Tis ever thus — we always find Strong passion with the strongest mind. With Genius, ^' fire from Heaven/^ — in turn The fires from hell of Passion burn — Passion still wins the steps astray. Though splendid Reason point the way. Alas ! what noble minds we see Doomed to this doubtful destiny ! Their pure aspirings bid them rise On Virtue's pinions to the skies ; But Passion's fierce and withering force Opposes the celestial course, And scathes with its unhallowed fire The buddings of more pure desire. I MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 59 'Tis ever thus — their wavering- doom Is like the Eastern Prophet's tomb — To neither part is wholly given. But vibrates betwixt Earth and Heaven ! 60 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. Nay, ask me not to strike my lyre — Its sounds are g'one for ever by ; Never again shall I feel the fire. The mantling- glow of poesy ! I cannot raise the notes of pleasure ; That string wrould need a livelier touch— I dare not sound a sadder measure ; My heart accords with that too much. For the happy love excited feeling — The tear which fabled grief can bring ; But the breast whose ill can know no healing. Shrinks from all name of suifering ! Then ask me not — for even thou Must, in this instance, ask in vain : My harp is tuneless — voiceless now — Is mute^ to never speak again. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 61 •' The magic of a name." CAMPBELL. Beats there the heart which does not bound. With a trembling- thrill, at the holy sound Of a name belov'd — which does not swell As it drinks a note which it loves so well ? Thoug-h years may have past since we last have heard From strang-er lips the well-known word. Yet, pronounced by chance, it awakens the ear, And the soul delightedly turns to hear. That word is breathed in a softer tone. And possesses a music not it^s own ; And the letters which speak that name to the eye. Appear to combine more gracefully ! 62 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. When we utter their name, the absent are near; The beloved themselves become more dear ; And the dead, at that heart-dwelling' sound, will be In more vivid and instant memory. Oh ! a name beloved becomes a part Of the dearest feelings of every heart ; And until the heart itself shall decay. That feeling will never pass away ! MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 63 WRITTEN IN A BOOK, GIVEN ME AT FOUR YEARS OLD. Yes ! dearest book, thy simple page Recalls my childhood's happy hours ; That innocent and peaceful age. Ere passion yet hath shewn its powers. How deeply do I wish that aught Could give those blessed times agajji ; Or that I could shake off the thought Of what is now, and what was then ! 64 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS* A FAREWELL. 1. Yes, I must fly from thee ! while I Retain the will, the power to fly ; Ere yet the spell thy charms cast round me, In bands unbreakable have bound me ; — Ere yet the nascent flame acquire The deepened ting-e of quenchless fire ! 2. Yes, I must fly thee — while my heart Can bear the bitter pang- to part — While yet my yielding- soul can 'waken The slumbering streng-th thy charms have shaken ; And, oh ! still more than all — ere yet Remorse be added to regret ! MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 65 3. Farewell ! and when you chance to hear The name of him who held thee dear. Let Pity raise a passing* sig-h, A tender thought on days gone by — On him who felt, yet fled, the power Which Love casts round thy ^witching bower — Who breathes, in spite of passion's swell. His long — perhaps his last — farewell ! 66 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. SONG. Those days are o'er, We now no more May feel as we once did feel, Fanny ; And the fond regret Which lingers yet, Our lips must never reveal, Fanny. Tho' I love thee still— ^Twere a deed of ill To talk to thee of love, Fanny ; For though here 'twere known But to us alone, It could not be concealed above, Fanny. Then in His dread sight Let our lips unite, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. &7 And mingle one last^ last sigh, Fanny ; And then we must sever For ever, for ever, Till we meet again on high, Fanny ! 68 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, ON THE GIPSY'S PROPHECY IN GUY MANNERING. " Twist ye, twine ye"- Twist ye, twine ye black and grey — Mix no brighter hues ; for they Should not be there — no merry white Should mingle in so dark a night. Twine the black, for that's the colour Tokens well his future dolour — Nor his alone — for well we know That all who live were bofn for woe. Twine the grey — for now and then Checquered fates arise to men ; But where is he who'll dare to say His is of brighter tint than grey? MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 69 But twine no white — that happy hue j Man born of woman never knew; Life never had a tint so fair. To dash the shades which darkle there 70 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Nay, trust not to the hollow smile, Which sometimes you observe me wear ;■ You do not see my heart the while. And all the pang-s which batten there ! The bright and lively flowers which lie Strewed on a gravestone, do not shew Aught which can token to the eye The foul and festering corpse below. Oh ! may such smiles as those you see Wither my lip, ne'er pass to thine ;— Your bitterest tears can never be So painful as that smile of mine. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 71 Nay, weep not, my love, all sorrow is past — All doubt is over — thou art mine at last: Let me not see your spirit oppressed with sadness. While Rapture almost raises mine to madness. While my heart sends the impetuous blood Gushingly forth in a boiling flood. Which throbs within every bursjting' vein. Till pleasure almost arises to pain, — Let me not find ^ot^r pulse beat so faintingly low. And each nerve in your body tremble so ;— Oh, surely, dearest, a moment like this Should accord both body and soul to bliss ! Then weep not?— or weep the passionate tear Which speaks of jay and ecstacy near ;— And sigh not, unless your lips respire The breath of Rapture's sighs of fire, F 72 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. TQ ********* Yes ! lady, had we earlier met, I might — I must have loved thee then, — But now my bosom will not let Its wasted feelings love again. My heart hath known the fiery force Of Passion's wild and fearful hour — In turn, sin — sorrow — ^guilt — remorse. Have cursed it with their withering power. Withering indeed ! — ^^or could I gaze Unmoved upon thy full blue eye, — And listen to the ^witching lays. Thy lips breathe forth so touchingly ? MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 73 Oh ! no — but long- before we met. Passion had stamped my future fate ; — I now can only feel regret That we should meet, alas ! too late. W2 74 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF OF LALLA ROOKH. 1. Dearest, I doubly taste with thee The charms of this sweet minstrelsy ! — O'er these wild numbers I have felt My very soul within me melt. To sit by thy side and hang with thee On the beauties of each entrancing line ; Then gaze on thy speaking eye, and see How thy thoughts and thy feelings mingle with mine. Oh ! I have seen that full eye flash Beneath its long and silken lash. Its living glance at once revealing Each secret thought — each inmost feeling. 1 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 75 2. And^ oh ! when the bard has chanced to strike That chord which is felt by both alike ; — When we have come to those moving" parts Which strike so home to both our hearts ; — Those lays — alas! too real — which weep The misery of a lot like ours — We have known a feeling* far too deep. To be raised alone by Poetry's powers: They serve but to g*oad within our breast, Thoughts which can never wholly rest ; We feel — but what I need not tell— Alas 1 you only know too well ! 76 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. TO AN INFANT. 1. Sweet Infant, smile again — although I may not claim that look of thine — My soul, alas ! can never know, The touching joy to call thee mine. Yet when Fve seen that sinless smile, I've felt my heart grow light the while; The evil passions of my breast Have then been almost charmed to rest. 2. Oh ! may the beams of that full blue eye. Which now repose so placidly. Never flash forth the unhallowed fire Of wrath — of hatred — envy — ire ; MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 77 And may that calm^ unsullied brow. So clear^ so pure, so stainless now. Be always thus — nor ever bear One trace of sorrow furrowed there ! 3. Oh ! how I covet that soft thrill Of hallowed pleasure, which will fill Thy mother's soul, when she shall trace Nascent expression in thy face — When first thy kindling eye shall show. Thy little heart hath learned to know I Thy mother ; and thy smile revealing* The earliest touch of tender feeling*, Shall add the power of dawning* sense To the charm of infant innocence ! And, more than all, when thy tongue shall try To lisp its first words falteringly; And syllable the sound most dear. Most hallowed to a mother's ear — Sweeter to her than the dying notes Of music, which over the water floats, * i » 78 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. <>:» Or the heavenly strain when the winds give tone To the harp that speaks but by them alone — Is there on earth an equal bliss? — No! there's none so perfect — so pure as this! 4. Yes ! dearest Infant;, smile ag-ain. And stretch thy little arms towards me ; — And fondly look on me, for then I almost dream that thou must be His, who thus loves thee doatingly ! — Whose very heart of hearts caresses theer— Whose soul's most fervent feeling blesses thee — Who'd give that soul itself, if aught Could make thee really his— but, no— I must controul that maddening thought- Alas! it never can be so! THE END. *♦. # h. McMillan, Printer. .y»ow'8trp*^t. Covent-Gardrti. \ c y . Mr le — I Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 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