"*V"wr> : v v :-•-; :;-;;'. V J LIBRAE! OF CONGRESS,}' ^%e// 'iJLJOPt t ! UNITED STATES OP AMERICA, f mmMmjMm mm, N"V\I\I 'Wv/iyVVW' wyywMm 1\w W*m*v3i}ls r w '.v^Wtii yvwypp m^sjy Mf£fi PWIWPK v "-y v y y -Vu V y ; W'Y'.y* IWfo IpS mk; f ^v". yj&M POEMS, AND TALES IN VERSE. BY MRS. iENEAS LAMONT. LONDON: PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR ; AND PUBLISHED BY OGLES, DUNCAN, AND COCHRAN, 37, PATERNOSTER ROW, AND 295, HOLBORN. 1818. a- PRINTED BY J. MOYES. Greville Street, Hatton Garden, London. CONTENTS. Page The Blush « 1 Hope and Love. An Allegory 4 The Withered Leaf 9 On the Revival of the Irish Harp 15 The Verdant Leaf 19 Simplicity 23 To Eliza 27 Melancholy Moments - 30 Recantation. — To Eliza- • • 33 To a Friend 36 The Reed ■ 38 The Dream 41 The Glance 45 Love 47 My Husband • 50 Verses written in a Grove 56 The Boy and the Butterfly 61 The Waning Moon * 64 Pat's Salutation ■ 69 IV CONTENTS. Page To Him who said he had no Home • ft Song 73 Song 74 Song 76 TALES. Elopement-, or, The Court Martial 79 Dympna : an Irish Legend 1 55 POEMS, &c THE BLUSH. More lovely than the rose's flush, More touching than soft music's charms. Is timid woman's feeling blush, When aught the conscious soul alarms. Nature ! thou, and thou alone, Canst soften, melt us, and refine ! One genuine touch each heart must own— Th' enchanting blush is truly thine. THE BLUSH. Tis Love's own eloquence ! which speaks Directly from, and to, the heart : Portraying on the modest cheeks What trembling lips dare not impart. For Love cold reasoning still disdains, Nor waits for words his power to show. But, potent, rushes through the veins, Triumphant on the face to glow ! Bright harbinger from Feelings source ! Morns crimson glow, Eve's tints, are fine ; We feel, we own their beauty's force, But, ah ! we feel them not like thine ! Thou speak'st from moral Beauty s store, Speak'st truth and virtue in the heart, And sentiments deep in its core, Which language, weak, can ne'er impart. THE BLUSH. O glowing; thoughts, and feelings warm ! Ye that the sacred blush inspire, Quit not, never quit this form, Lest Virtue languish and expire ! HOPE AND LOVE. AN ALLEGORY. When guilt had first provok'd the wrath of Heaven, And wretched man from Paradise was driven, Onward he moved with tottering steps and slow, While every gesture spoke remorse aud woe : Dejected melancholy marked his air, His darkened features clouded by despair ; Without one cheering thought to sooth his breast, He wandered forth to seek a place of rest. All nature seemed his deep distress to share, The skies were gloomy, heavy felt the air ; The flocks no more their wonted sports pursued, Nor birds, that joyless morn, their songs renewed. An awe-struck silence every creature kept, Save, that alternately, Eve sighed and wept. HOPE AND LOVE. i Wearied at length in body and in mind, They, on a bank, their languid limbs reclined; When Adam thus th' oppressive silence broke, Amid deep sighs and groans the mourner spoke : " O, thou great Power! who mad'st us as we are, And taught'st us to expect thy guardian care, In pity take the life thy love bestowed ; Without thy favour, grievous is the load. Thy threatened death we earnestly implore, O ! let us sink to sleep and wake no more." As thus he breathed his thoughts in impious prayer. The heavens grew lighter, purer felt the air, A glorious vision bless'd his wondering sight, Array'd in silv'ry robes of ambient light, A female form, surpassing all that's fair, Her charms divine her heavenly birth declare : Our sire beheld with rapture and surprise, The piercing brightness of her radiant eyes ; 6 HOPE AND LOVE. Her graceful brows adorned with opening flowers, Breathing the fragrance of celestial bowers; Her wings of azure, tinged with gold behind, Like sun-gilt clouds, that sail along the wind ; While o'er her form a softening veil was thrown, Through which each beauty more attractive shone ; Her snowy hand led forth a cherub child, In whose bright face perpetual pleasure smiled ; As soft they tread, fresh flow'rets kiss their feet, And birds with rapturous notes their presence greet. Arrived — the fair one Adam thus addressed, Her tones harmonious thrilled his gladd'ning breast : " Cease, mortal, thus to blame thy Makers plan, All heaven admires his wondrous love to man; Behold he sends us from the realms above, My name is Hope, this beauteous child is Love : We come to ease thy cares, to soothe thy strife, And soften all the rugged paths of life ; I HOPE AND LOVE. To all thy race our blessings shall extend, But chief the virtuous ever most befriend, With this celestial child to them is given A foretaste of those joys prepared in heaven, While I that heaven shall place before their eyes, Attend through life, and guide them to the skies." Here ceased her balmy words — but to his heart They peace, and joy, and gratitude impart. Mean- time fair Eve had caught the lovely boy, And prest him in her arms with matron joy; Eas'd her reclining head upon his breast ; And, like an infant, smiled herself to rest. Enraptured Adam viewed her o'er and o'er, And saw new beauties, still unmarked before, Then sunk beside her, and in sweet repose Forgot awhile his blessings and his woes, Morn's ruddy streaks soon chased the balmy night, The glorious sun shed floods of golden light; 8 HOPE AND LOVE. Young Nature, vigorous from her short repose, Her grateful incense, heavenward, smiling throws I All creatures wake to life, to peace and joy, And various powers in pleasing cares employ : The glittering insects hum their matin song, Unnumbered birds their joyful hymn prolong ; The pearly dew falls off, in fragrant showers, From spangled beds of brilliant opening flowers : Last, man awakes, fresh as the new-born day, While Love and Hope within his bosom play : From that blest morn, no more he turns his eyes With lingering gaze, toward Eden s happy skies ; No more regrets those lovely, blissful seats, But, cheered by Hope's gay scenes, his fortune meets ; Feels now his Paradise within his mind ; Gives Heaven the praise, and meets its will resignd. 9 THE WITHERED LEAF. STANZAS CONCEIVED DURING A WALK THROUGH A WOOD. TV autumnal sky is richly glowing, Sol in crimson shrouds his head, Ocean back the splendour throwing, All the West with gold has spread : Evening gay, her veil unfurling, Blithe and healthful, now steals on ; Rustling winds the dry leaves whirling ; Ah ! the summer breeze has flown. Thanks ! O thanks from vale and city ! Pour the song, ye nations round ! God upon his Earth has pity — ■ Gifts of love and peace abound. 10 THE WITHERED LEAF. On his bounty grateful musing, As I pace the yellow grove, Autumn sombre thoughts diffusing, Autumns mellow tints I love. Every sweeping blast that's blowing Bears the leafy honours down ; Late so green and graceful growing, Now around me careless thrown. Changed in colour, dry ? and blighted From the stem that gave ye birth, Now unkindly disunited, Scatter' d o'er the greedy earth : Yearly thus you bud and flourish, Proudly waving to the sky, Then, that parent Earth to nourish, Fading on her bosom lie. THE WITHERED LEAF. 11 Man, for whom you form a shelter, Grateful, in the blaze of day, — He beneath whose feet you welter, — Must he fade, like you, away ? Thought — sad thought! my mind's adherent, On Life's tree are men the leaves ? Do they fall to feed that parent Who her offspring- all receives ? Years and ages o'er them rolling, Springing still to fade away ; Each memento feebly tolling — " Man, thy works and thou decay!" Cease, dark thought, nor thus torment me ; How my soul shrinks back in grief! — Almost blames the Power that sent me, Whirl'd in air, a withering leaf. 12 THE WITHERED LEAF. Oh, no — cease not — in supiness, Weakly now the subject 's view'd ; My soul assert thy own divineness, Be the moral lay pursued. Man has sojourned here for ages, Yet what traces left behind ? Frail memorials — blotted pages — Mortal body — mortal mind! Why then sighs this mortal creature ? Why still something seem to miss ? Tantalized by cruel Nature, Vainly straining after bliss. Bliss ! — bright thought ! — great panacea ! Whose conception gains the skies ! Could mortal mind e'er form th' idea — Believe in Heav'n, and claim the prize? THE WITHERED LEAF. 13 See the conqueror, man, elated, Crushing — saving — by his nod ; High aloft in triumph seated, Issuing mandates like a god. Yet, within his bosom burning, Thoughts beyond this narrow sphere ; All its little grandeur spurning — Proudly whispers, " Home 's not here ! " Said I, man exists for ages, Yet no traces leaves behind ? View what now the heart assuages — View the trophies of his mind View his mighty arts and science, Almost of himself afraid ; Gods, he says, have joind alliance, Angels sometimes lent him aid : 14 THE WITHERED LEAF. Earth, sea, air, he roves insatiate ; Through the heavVis his mind takes flight ; There does boundless space expatiate, Borne on countless worlds of light : Looks within, and reads each feeling, Love, and hope, and joy, and grief; Gleams of rapture sometimes stealing ; Say, is man a Withering Leaf? Wisdom, knowledge, virtue, growing Humbler still, while Earth is trod ; His dependence feeling, knowing, Low he bows before his God. Leaf, whose sweetness now allures me, If to deck Earth's breast thou 'rt given, Such a leaf, my soul assures me, Withers there to bloom in Heaven. 15 The following Verses were written in the Year 1809, when an Attempt zcas made in Belfast to revive the Ancient Harp of Ireland. " why j sons of Erin, abroad should you roam For aught that existence can cheer I In what soil do the warm social feelings so bloom. Or where grow the virtues that spring not at home \ Ah ! stay then, and cherish them here ! " 0, Erin! my mother, raise up thy sad head, Again shall thy harp be new strung; Those chords, which so long have lam rusting and dead, Shall again o'er the soul their sweet melody shed, As bv Feelings own touch thev are rung. 16 THE IRISH HARP. " Arise, from thy cheek wipe the fond anxious tear, Resume thy maternal soft smile ; No longer shall hatred and strife be found here, But Concord's bright beams every bosom shall cheer, And bless with their influence our isle. " Thy harp, softly soothing, dear Erin ! shall charm Each harmonized feeling to peace; Its thrills, thro' the breast, native kindness shall warm, Fraternal affection our souls shall inform, And turbulent passions shall cease. - : Joy! light-hearted joy, every care shall beguile, As gaily she wakes the glad strain ; Sweet peace and contentment shall bless the swains toil ; Love and hope shall bestow an enrapturing smile, As they sport o'er the gay sunny plain. THE IRISH HARP. J7 u The Bards in their glory again shall be seen, To Erin and sentiment dear; Kind Nature shall fondly embellish the scene, And shower on her own favoured Island of green Each blessing that life can endear. u Simplicity o'er the green hills shall advance. In ecstacy bounding along; Pure innocence often shall join the light dance. And rosy-breathed beauty our souls shall entrance. To her harp sighing soft the love song. " Then why, sons of Erin, abroad should you roam For aught that existence can cheer ? In what soil do the warm social feelings so bloom. Or where grow the virtues that spring not at home ! O; stay then and cherish them here." 18 THE IRISH HARP. Thus the last aged minstrel rung forth the bold peal, By the love of his country inspired ! His accents were borne on the soft passing gale, Each true patriot bosom applauded O'Neil, By the souls of his ancestors fired ! Erin rose from her rock by the sea-beaten shore, Where long she had murmured unheard; A fresh gathered wreath of green shamrock she wore, Which from her bright temples in transport she tore, And exultingly crowned her old bard ! Delighted — enraptured — her mild kindling eyes In fancy the old minstrel saw! He struck a bold peal, that her joy might arise, And echoing afar o'er the wide distant skies, Resounded bold Erin go bragh ! 19 THE VERDANT LEAF, Now Nature shuddering in the blast, With scowling eye by gloom o'ercast, And frozen bosom bared, Lies stiff'ning in her shroud of snow, Her vital streams have ceased to flow, She seems for death prepared; Her creatures clinging to her breast In soul appalling fear, Deep in the tempest's rage express'd, Her nightly wailings hear ; Then fearfully, and tearfully, They cast their eyes around. Their bosoms chilled, with horror filled. In gloom their hearts are drowned. 20 THE VERDANT LEAF. Mortals in sable garb arrayed*, All nature lends your sorrows aid In sympathizing gloom; No cheerful ray your grief impedes, No sunbeam glittering mocks your weeds, Or plays upon the tomb. Throughout the brown and leafless grove A death-like silence reigns, No warbler tunes its notes of love O'er all our dreary plains; No fragrant flowers, no shady bowers, Invite us forth to stray; The vivid green no more is seen, O'er hill or valley gay. * Written during the time of general mourning for the lamented death of the late Princess Charlotte. THE VERDANT LEAF. 21 Then let us inward turn our eyes, And view what prospects there arise, What verdure there may bloom. — Does no sweet bud of bliss appear, Whose fragrance can the senses cheer, And dissipate the gloom? O, there a lovely leaf I view I A leaf for ever green, Whose balm distils in heavenly dew, O'er all the soul serene! My screen it forms, from worldly storms It canopies my head ; In Summer's heat a cool retreat Beneath its shade is spread. This sovereign balm for mental strife, Once flourished on the tree of life, THE VERDANT LEAF. In Eden's garden fair; Transplanted to the Christian heart, When pure that soil, its sweets impart The bliss of Eden there! O what to me life's trivial cares ! Or transient mortal joys ? This strength'ning balm my spirit bears Above all earthly toys ! Deep in my soul its odours roll, Assuaging every grkf ; My heart's sweet bud, the Love of God y Its ever verdant leaf! 23 SIMPLICITY. Come, dear Eliza, let us walk, And if thou 'It hear my idle talk, I'll tell thee whom I would invite To visit in my rural bower ; In whose society, delight To spend, in converse sweet, an hour; And here our tastes will, sure, agree, For thou, too, lov'st Simplicity. I would not have the vainly gay Within my rustic bounds to stray; Nor those who value pomp and show, Or crowd the splendid midnight scene ; Whose fleeting joys from grandeur flow, Who love not rural peace serene : 24 SIMPLICITY. Such tastes and mine could ne'er agree. For I love meek Simplicity. I wish not for the sordid elf Whose heart is centred in his pelf; Nor he whose breast false glory fires, Who wades through blood to gain renown, Or when Ambition s call inspires, Would trample modest merit down : AH such may pass, nor stop with me, They cannot love Simplicity. But ye who love the rural scene Of groves, and glades, and meadows green, Who love the gurgling of the stream, Or love to saunter with a book ; Or wrapt in sweet poetic dream On Nature's charms with rapture look, SIMPLICITY. 25 O ! call and spend an hour with me, For you, too, love Simplicity. If thou lov'st the silent shade, Where no passing steps invade ; If most at ev'ning's solemn hour Thou lov'st to steal from noise and strife, And feel calm Nature's genial power To raise thy thoughts above this life : ! I would be & friend to thee, Because thou lov'st Simplicity. If the bleat of flocks thou love, And the warbling of the grove ; If thou love to steal along By the margin of a stream, List'ning to eve's latest song, By the moon's mild lucid beam ; 26 SIMPLICITY. If Nature still has charms for thee, Then thou lov'st Simplicity. Simplicity, delightful maid ! In truth and innocence array'd, I love thy unobtrusive mien ; Thy pure, unspotted, artless breast, Thy open look, and brow serene, In genuine peace and candour drest : O nymph belov'd! still dwell with me. Meek Nature's child, Simplicity. TO ELIZA : IH ANSWER TO HER QUESTION, ( VHY DO YOU SIGH? Tis not for grandeur, power, or wealth, That thus I heave the sigh by stealth ; Though Fortune still has past my door, I have been blest, and yet been poor : No, riches ne'er shall cause a sigh, Or bid a tear-drop wet my eye. Nor o'er past sorrows do I moan, Tho' much, alas ! this heart has known : Should I the painful tale disclose, Thy gentle breast would feel my woes ; Thy heart for me would heave a sigh. And tears would dim thy crystal eye* 28 TO ELIZA. But Time's blest hand has sooth'd my mind, I bow to Providence resign d ; Now seldom back I turn my view, Lest scenes of grief awake anew : And if they steal o'er Memory's eye, I strive to check the rising sigh. But say, Eliza, could'st thou bear, To see thy only son most dear, Whole years beneath the grasp of Death ? Just struggling to retain his breath. Would tears not often dim thine eye, Would'st thou not, as a mother, sigh ? To bear, long nights, his weary head, And each approaching minute dread ; To see Death's image in that face, Where dear lost features thou could'st trace. TO ELIZA. 29 To watch that mild benignant eye So like his sire's, thou uoulcTst sigh. I see that cheek, where roses blew, Now shrunk, and of the lily's hue ; And, oh! past scenes float o'er my brain. When in some interval of pain I mark the witty prompt reply ; My heart then heaves a double sigh. Poor boy! No father's eye meets thine, No breast to sympathize, save mine ; Unaided, trembling, and alone, None to approve, if duty 's done ; Then, ah \ no longer wonder whv The widow's lonely heart should sigh. 30 MELANCHOLY MOMENTS. 4< O, madam, there are moments in which we live years : moments that steal the roses from the cheek of health, and plant deep furrows in the brow of care." When jostling with a world of care, x4nd struggling to sustain my part, At times a prey to black despair, I say within this aching heart, " Oh that I had wings like a dove, Then would I flee away and be at rest." The freezing look by grandeur dealt, The cold salute of heartless pride, When, weakly sensitive, I've felt ; Within my wounded mind, IVe cried, MELANCHOLY MOMENTS. " O that I had wings like a dove, Then would I flee away, and be at rest." Or when neglect, with blighting power, Has apathized the sinking heart ; In that forlorn deserted hour, I've cried, " life with thee I'd part, " O that I had wings like a dove, Then would I flee away, and be at rest." But, ah ! when musing on the grave> Where those I love have sunk to rest, Distracted then, in thought, I rave, And sigh within this tortured breast, " O that I had wings like a dove, Then would I flee away, and be at rest/' 32 MELANCHOLY MOMENTS. Fancy, and all her dreams, have fled, To me the world has nought to give ; Even hope within my heart is dead, Then wherefore should I wish to live ? " O that I had wings like a dove, Then would I flee away, and be at rest." Even now, my mental gloom redoubling , By care and grief at once oppressed. — To " where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest." " O that I had wings like a dove, There would I flee away, and be at rest. ,! RECANTATION. TO ELIZA. And, said I, that I stand alone , None to approve when duty's done ? That all my dearest hopes were cross'd ; That every stay, on earth, was lost ; And that I still might heave the sigh. And bitter tears might swell my eye ? — O impious fool ! where is thy God ? Does he ne'er ease thy bosom's load? Who cherishes thy infant brood With more than raiment, health, and food ? Who, from his vast exhaustless stores, The light of knowledge on them pours ? D 34 RECANTATION. And from his goodness, unconfined, With virtue nourishes the mind ? The " Father of the fatherless," Has he not ample power to bless ? Is there a wretch whose bleeding heart, Just sever'd from its dearest part, Is writhing, anguished with the wound, While deep ingulf d in grief profound, The soul distracted, through the gloom, Beholds no object save the tomb ? Bid her look up, for God on high Will hear the widow's deep drawn sigh. Is there a parent, bending o'er Her hope, her darling, now no more ? Not all her tears which dew his face, One stiffen'd feature can release : RECANTATION. 35 Alas ! her second stay is gone, And now on earth she feels alone. To Nature's Parent lift thine eye ; He will assuage a mothers sigh. Are friends but few, is fortune gone, Are all thy dearest wishes flown? Where most thou st trusted and believ'd, Say, hast thou there been most deceived ? Have worldly cares nigh broke thy heart, And hast thou pray'd with life to part ? Raise ! raise, poor wretch! thy soul on high. God