ODDS AND ENDS. 
 
ODDS AND ENDS; 
 
 ORIGINAL AND TRANSLATED. 
 
 BY ROBERT SWEENY, 
 
 M 
 
 Trifles light as air. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 HENRY I. MEGAREY, BROADWAY. 
 
 1826. 
 

 Clavtoii &, Van Nor(ieii, Priiitei 
 
 '«, '^ 
 
/ ^r^7 
 
 /^^ 
 
 TO 
 
 THE HONORABLE 
 
 HENRY DTLKES BYNG, 
 
 CAPTAIN, ROYAL NAVY, 
 
 THE FOLLOWING PACxES ARE INSCRIBED, AS A SMALL, BUT 
 SINCERE TRIBUTE OF ESTEEM. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Pa^e 
 
 The Girl I left behind me, 11 
 
 Land, 13 
 
 Here's to the eye of sparkling blue, 16 
 
 To Clio, 18 
 
 I love him now no more, 20 
 
 Rememberest thou our morning sky, 22 
 
 Home, 25 
 
 Love and the Swallow, 26 
 
 Adieu, 28 
 
 Tempusfugit, 30 
 
 To Mary, . 31 
 
 Anacreontic, 34 
 
 The Pilgrim returning from Mecca's shrine, 36 
 
 Anacreontic, 38 
 
 Talk not of parting yet, 40 
 
 MyCountry, 42 
 
 The Soldier's grave, 43 
 
 Oh, dinnaturn awa', 46 
 
 Say not life is a waste of gloom, 48 
 
 Isabel, ^ 
 
 Nay, dream not that time can unri vet, 52 
 
Vlll 
 
 Page 
 
 *Tis not when the brow is bright, 55 
 
 The moon is travelUng through the sky, 56 
 
 Toujours fidelle, 57 
 
 Why should'st thou think my heart is changed, .... 60 
 
 She is gone to the place of her rest, 62 
 
 Sacred Melody, 64 
 
 Pensees, 66 
 
 Where are the kings of former times, 67 
 
 Sacred Melody, 68 
 
 The Rose that buds and blooms, 70 
 
 'Tis long since we have met, . 72 
 
 Though the cold hand of sickness, 74 
 
 Young Love, one eve, with bosom light, 76 
 
 Fill up the bowl, 78 
 
 Anacreontic, 81 
 
 Fare thee well, 82 
 
 Dear Mary, check that rising sigh, 84 
 
 I'd wish to be, 87 
 
 If you love, dear, oh breathe not a word, . 90 
 
 Woman, 92 
 
 Auld Robin Gray, 9.5 
 
 Fancy not, dear, lean e'er forget, 98 
 
 Ohthisislove, 100 
 
 Stanzas, 102 
 
 Adele 104 
 
 Cuish la ma chree, 106 
 
IX 
 
 To , • ■ 
 
 Sweet streamlet, 
 
 Page 
 
 . 108 
 
 . 109 
 
 When first we met, 112 
 
 Think not, dearest, 114 
 
 To my Carrier Dove, 116 
 
 Wlien the poor Pilgrim bent with pain, 118 
 
 I saw two young rose trees, 1-^" 
 
 Love blooms upon thy cheek bo fair, 122 
 
 When the bee neglects to sip, 12* 
 
 The days are gone, 12" 
 
 The Eing, 130 
 
 131 
 
 132 
 
 The Portrait, 
 
 Oh, truer is the courtier's tear 
 
 Ah, wherefore reprove , -135 
 
 Ladies, good bye 1^^ 
 
 Madrigal, 140 
 
 Madrigal, 1*1 
 
 Triolet, 142 
 
 Triolet, 143 
 
 Epitaphs, 144 
 
 Epigrams, 14*' 
 
 To Julia, 
 
 152 
 
 To the Butterfly, 153 
 
 Forget me not, 154 
 
 To my Lyre, 155 
 
THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME. 
 
 Written off the Coast of Ireland, 1818. 
 
 Land of my youth — that far away 
 
 Amid the wave's commotion, 
 Now glances to the sun's last ray, 
 
 A speck upon the ocean. 
 Land of my youth, where'er 1 roam, 
 
 What lot soe'er assign'd me, 
 Still, atill I'll love the stranger's home. 
 
 And the Girl I left behind me. 
 
12 
 
 At evening, when with richest dye, 
 
 The god of day is setting, 
 How can I look on the western sky, 
 
 The isle of the west forgetting ! 
 And when I view morn's glowing streak, 
 
 Of what shall it remind me. 
 But the rosy blush that o'erspreads the cheek 
 
 Of the Girl I left behind me ? 
 
 Swift bounds our ship — the favouring breeze 
 
 Blows stronger now and stronger ; 
 And now the keen-eyed seaman sees 
 
 My native hills no longer. 
 Oh, Erin, when — life's struggle o'er — 
 
 Near man's long rest I find me, 
 My parting breath shall bless thy shore, 
 
 And the Girl I left behind me. 
 
13 
 
 LAND. 
 
 It was a gallant ship 
 
 From England's coast that sail'd ; 
 But tedious was the trip, 
 
 And every store had faiPd. 
 No hopes of life were given, 
 
 No rescue was at hand ; 
 Each eye was fix'd on heaven, 
 
 Each heart on Land. 
 2 
 
14 
 
 Nor longer toiPd the crew — 
 
 But some sat pale with grief. 
 And some half listless grew, 
 
 Impatient of relief ; 
 Some rav'd in wild despair : 
 
 Some stood by fear unmann'd 
 Some gaz'd on vacant air, 
 
 And muttered, Land. 
 
 There sprang a gentle breeze 
 
 As daylight died away, 
 And through the glowing seas 
 
 The Yfissel cut her way. 
 With hopeless breast aloft 
 
 The seaboy took his stand, 
 And o'er the waters oft 
 
 Look'd out for Land. 
 
15 
 
 But long it mock'd his gaze, 
 
 Till through the starless night 
 The beacon's warning blaze 
 
 Burst on his rapturM sight. 
 Loud, loud the urchin cried, 
 
 As the blest ray he scann'd ; 
 And the faint crew replied, 
 
 Echoing, Land. 
 
 Oh, how that shout arose. 
 
 Soft, sweet, amid the gloom ! 
 It spoke of balm to woes, 
 
 Deliverance from the tomb. 
 Grief, doubt, despair and fear 
 
 Forsook the joyous band. 
 As, with a grateful tear, 
 
 They welcomM Land. 
 
16 
 
 HERE'S TO THE EYE OF SPARKLING BLUE 
 
 Here's to the eye of sparkling blue, 
 
 Here's to the breast with feeUng warm'd ; 
 The cheek as blooming, the heart as true, 
 
 As man e'er worshipped, or heaven ere form'd. 
 Here's to the auburn locks that twine 
 
 Their ringlets around thy brow of snow ; 
 \nd here's to the magic glance of thine, 
 
 That can heighten pleasure or banish wo. 
 
17 
 
 They may tell us of planets with moons more bright, 
 
 And suns more splendid than those we have here ; 
 But while stars like thee illumine our night, 
 
 Oh, who could wish for a brighter sphere ? 
 They may say that man is the child of grief, 
 
 But never shall we siich chaise allow. 
 When from fortune's scowl we can seek rehef 
 
 In the smile of beings so pure as thou. 
 
 They may preach that by penance alone, and by fast, 
 
 Must the soul from the dross of this world be refin'd : 
 But 'twere folly to suffer regret for the past. 
 
 To tarnish the moments still left behind. 
 Then be ever as now, nor let sorrow fling 
 
 Its cold cloud o'er thee while youth's thine own : 
 Remember, life's roses, like those of spring, 
 
 Will wither the soonest when fullest blown. 
 2* 
 
18 
 
 TO CIJO. 
 
 If now my nights be void of rest, 
 They were not always spent in care : 
 
 If now affliction rule my breast, 
 It did not always rankle there. 
 
 There was a time — long, long ago, 
 
 When my bright moments seem'd to fly 
 
 But now they move so dark and slow, 
 They almost pause in passing by. 
 
 There was a time when free I rang'd 
 Thro' life's serenest paths — but now 
 
19 
 
 All, all who lov'd me once are changM, 
 And all have fled but only thou. 
 
 Well, they may change — nor shall the pain 
 I else might feel, affect my heart, 
 
 If thou amid the wreck remain, 
 
 Dear, pure and bright as now thou art : 
 
 Dear as the beam that shines to save — 
 Pure as the evening's parting light — 
 
 Bright as the sparkles on the wave. 
 When all around is cloth'd in night. 
 
20 
 
 I LOVE HIM NOW NO MORE. 
 
 He vow'd for me alone to live, 
 
 He swore to love me, and deceived ; 
 I knew 'twas folly to believe, 
 
 Yet, like a lover, I believed. 
 But I have felt his perfidy, 
 
 And I have prov'd how false he swore 
 No more his vows have charms for me, 
 
 I love him now no more, oh no. 
 
 I love him now no more. 
 
 Should chance at times across my way 
 The footsteps of th' inconstant guide, 
 
21 
 
 I turn in haste, lest I betray 
 
 The feelings which I fain would hide : 
 For still unconsciously I sigh, 
 
 And still my cheek is crimson'd o'er : 
 I watch him with admiring eye, 
 
 But love him now no more, oh no, 
 
 I love him now no more. 
 
 Here is the billet kept with care, 
 
 In which he call'd me first his love •, 
 And here the little braid of hair 
 
 Which once in playful mood I wove. 
 How soon those moments pass'd away ! 
 
 Oh, could they wear, as once they wore. 
 Their smiles but for a single day — 
 
 But no — I love no more, oh no, 
 
 I love him now no more. 
 
22 
 
 REMEMBEREST THOU OUR MORNING SKY 
 
 Rememberest thou our morning sky, 
 
 Ere clouds had overcast, 
 When each new sun that flitted by 
 
 Seem'd brighter than the last : 
 When, tho' some clouds might gather there, 
 
 And tho' some drops might flow, 
 Still those were not the clouds of care. 
 
 Nor these the drops of wo ? 
 
23 
 
 Oft do I muse with fond delight 
 
 On all that cheer'd me then, 
 And in the shadowy dreams of night, 
 
 Live o'er those days again : 
 And oft in memory's glass, as now, 
 
 Thy passing form I see ; 
 As sweet thy smile, as calm thy brow 
 
 As they were wont to be. 
 
 And as I gaze, and dread to part 
 
 With what is fancy all, 
 Oh, many a sigh would rend my heart, 
 
 And many a tear would fall — 
 But that so true thy charms appear, 
 
 'Twere pity, ere they die. 
 To stain the mirror with a tear, 
 
 Or dim it with a sigh. 
 
24 
 
 Peace be to thee, who shin'st'as far 
 
 Above the vulgar crowdj 
 As yonder solitary star 
 
 O'er every passing cloud. 
 Peace be to thee — may virtue's rays 
 
 Long, long thy path adorn, 
 And may the evening of thy days 
 
 Be pure as was their morn. 
 
25 
 
 HOME. 
 
 When far from thee, my native isle, 
 Along the Diamond Cape I roam, 
 
 Though grand the scene — my heart the while 
 Loves best the heath-clad hills at home 
 
 And when upon that bright cape's side 
 I view the great Saint Lawrence foam, 
 
 My heart prefers the simple tide 
 That laves its pebbly bed at home. 
 
 Quebec. 
 
26 
 
 LOVE AND THE SWALLOW. 
 
 When summer foliage glitters, 
 
 And summer suns are bright, 
 The Swallow round us twitters, 
 
 An^ sports him in their light. 
 But when the blast has o'er them past, 
 
 And summer siins grow dim, 
 Away he flies to brighter skies — 
 
 'Tis summer still with him. 
 
27 
 
 And Love is like the Swallow: — 
 
 When beauty's brow is gay, 
 Her glittering train he'll follow, 
 
 And sport him in the ray. 
 But when the frost of age has crost 
 
 The splendour of her eyes, 
 He spreads his wings, and off he spring? 
 
 In search of brighter skies. 
 
 Those summer suns reburning, 
 
 Will gild the landscape o'er : 
 The Swallow then returning, 
 
 Will twitter as before. 
 And will not Love, where'er he rove. 
 
 To gain his cage endeavour ? 
 No, no — when he once wanders free, 
 
 Good-bye to him for ever. 
 
28 
 
 ADIEU. 
 
 Adieu to thee, so fond and fair; 
 
 Adieu to thee for whom alone 
 This breast could beat, but it must bear 
 
 The trial firmly as thine own. 
 Adieu to thee, so fond and fair, 
 
 'Tis peace of mind whichbids me shun thy view ; 
 Adieu, adieu. 
 
 Adieu — perhaps for life we part — 
 Adieu — perhaps for but a day : 
 
29 
 
 And still shall friendship rule the heart 
 Which love for thee must never sway. 
 
 Adieu — perhaps for life we part — 
 
 Till thou the flame that wastes us canst subdue, 
 Adieu, adieu. 
 
 Adieu — I speak it with regret — 
 
 Adieu — my pen has trac'd the word ; 
 
 My soul was wavering even yet. 
 
 When from my lips its doom was heard. 
 
 Adieu — I speak it with regret, 
 But I must fly from these dear scenes and you : 
 Adieu, adieu. 
 
 3* 
 
30 
 
 TEMPUS FUGIT. 
 
 Less constant than the wind or wave. 
 For these their proper Hmits have. 
 
 The stream of time rolls on ; 
 The wind resumes its former track. 
 The wave flows in its channel back. 
 
 But time's for ever gone. 
 
 Why ponder then on future ill, 
 Or dream of past enjoyment still ? 
 
 Let's taste the present hours ; 
 And if this world, as sages say, 
 Be but to other worlds the way, 
 
 Let's strew the way with flow'rs. 
 
31 
 
 TO MARY. 
 
 Oh Mary, life has been, dear, 
 
 A waste since last I met thee : 
 And all that I have seen, dear, 
 
 But makes me more regret thee. 
 While round me flies the social bowl, 
 
 And all is mirth and glee, love, 
 I turn aside with sickening soul 
 
 To think on home and thee, love. 
 
32 
 
 When morn's first beam is breaking 
 
 Upon the eastern billow, 
 From frenzied dreams awaking, 
 
 I leave my restless pillow. 
 But ah, from memory's pangs away 
 
 In vain I strive to flee, love ; 
 Where'er I rove — by night, by day — 
 
 My thoughts are all on thee, love. 
 
 Oh Mary, ere we parted, 
 
 Nor grief nor care had known me ; 
 But now, sad, broken hearted, 
 
 Even thou might'st well disown me. 
 Tho' thousand beauties meet my eye. 
 
 Yet what are they to me, love ? 
 Unprais'd, unmark'd, I pass them by— 
 
 My thoughts are still on thee, love. 
 
33 
 
 I've been upon the ocean 
 
 When every wave was sleeping ; 
 When with slow, sluggish motion, 
 
 Our bark her way was keeping : 
 I've seen the tempest's dreaded form, 
 
 Dark brooding o'er the sea, love ; 
 And in the calm, or 'mid the storm. 
 
 My thoughts were all on thee, love. 
 
 How swift the hours seem'd winging 
 
 When sweet affection bound us ! 
 Each day, each moment, bringing 
 
 The friends we lov'd around us. 
 Those friends are far — those days are gone- 
 
 And gone no more to be, love ; 
 But still while time rolls darkly on, 
 
 I think on them and thee, love. 
 
34 
 
 ANACREONTIC. 
 
 I WISH to live, remote from strife, 
 
 A life of ease and pleasure ; 
 So strove to find what sort of life 
 
 Affords the greatest measure. 
 I ask'd th' opinion of my friends, 
 
 Love, Bacchus, and Apollo : 
 But each a different course commends. 
 
 And which do you think I follow ? 
 
35 
 
 Love bids me pay my homage still 
 
 To beauty night and morning, 
 And Bacchus hiccups " drink thy fill. 
 
 A fig for woman's scorning ;" 
 Apollo hints that nought but song 
 
 The wings of time can cripple; 
 So, just to please them, all day long 
 
 T love, and sing, and tipple. 
 
36 
 
 THE PILGRIM RETURNING FROM MECCA'S 
 SHRINE. 
 
 The Pilgrim, returning from Mecca's shrine, 
 
 Still bears to his home away 
 Some relic to keep by its power divine 
 
 His footsteps from turning astray. 
 But not the richest display of art, 
 
 Nor the rarest relic could be 
 More dear to that Pilgrim wanderer's heart, 
 
 Than this lock of thy hair to me. 
 
37 
 
 The seaman whose ship for a moment veers 
 
 From the track of her desthiM shore. 
 But looks to the star, by which he steers, 
 
 And it leads to his course once more. 
 So, should 1 forget thee an instant, and e'er 
 
 Withdraw me from virtue then, 
 I'll but look on this simple tress of thy hair. 
 
 And turn to her paths again. 
 
38 
 
 ANACREONTIC. 
 
 Give me wine and give me love, 
 What can rank those joys above ? 
 When the heart grows cold to bliss. 
 
 How shall we its fire renew ? 
 Warm it then with woman's kiss, 
 Bathe it with the goblet's dew 
 Give me wine and give me love, 
 What can rank those joys above ? 
 
39 
 
 Give me love and give me wine, 
 Both are dear and both divine ; 
 This can rouse us — that can tame- 
 Lover, drunkard, time about, 
 With the one I raise a flame, 
 With the other put it out. 
 Give me love and give me wine, 
 Both are dear and both divine. 
 
40 
 
 TALK NOT OF PARTING YET. 
 
 Talk not of parting yet, 
 
 While rapture holds its sway ; 
 Nor tinge those moments with regret, 
 
 That flit so swift away. 
 There's not a cloud to-night 
 
 Betwixt us and the moon, 
 And the stars are bright, thy path to light. 
 
 Then wherefore part so soon ? 
 Talk not of parting yet. 
 
 But let us, while we may, 
 The cold unfeeling world forget : 
 
 'Tis ne'er too late to say, 
 
 Adieu* 
 
41 
 
 Talk not of parting yet, 
 
 While every thought is bhss ; 
 Oh why should time his Hmits set 
 
 To hours so sweet as this ! 
 There's not a zephyr near 
 
 To chill thy gentle brow ; 
 Nor can thine ear a murmur hear, 
 
 Save his who whispers now. 
 Talk not of parting yet, 
 
 But stay — one moment stay — 
 *Twere better never to have met 
 
 Than thus so soon to say. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 4^ 
 
42 
 
 MV COUNTRY 
 
 She pledg'd her faith, she broke the phghted vow, 
 And there is nothing left but to forget her ; 
 
 'Twas but with her that hfe was sweet — and now 
 Not long will death permit me to regret her. 
 
 My Country, thou shalt be my only bride, 
 
 Thou wilt be true, though all are false beside. 
 
 New oaths shall bind me soon than those of love : 
 And if a fickle girl could once deceive me. 
 
 Now, while my country's banner waves above. 
 Glory at least will never, never leave me. 
 
 My Country, thou art now my only bride, 
 
 Thou wilt be true when all are false beside. 
 
4S 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S GRAVE. 
 
 I STOOD where commenceth the Christian's pride. 
 
 And the world's poor pageant closeth ; 
 Where prince and peasant he side by side, 
 
 And foe with foe reposeth. 
 
 I stood at the grave — the grave where lay, 
 By its kindred earth-worms courted. 
 
 The dust of him, who but yesterday 
 In life's gayest sunbeam sported. 
 
 With fame as spotless, and spirit as light 
 As the plume on his helmet dancing ; 
 
44 
 
 And wit as keen, and honour as bright. 
 As the steel from his scabbard glancing. 
 
 And fast fell the tears of vain regret 
 For the true and the gallant-hearted. 
 
 As I thought on the hour when first we met. 
 And the moment when last we parted. 
 
 The moon from cloud to silvery cloud 
 O'er the azure vault was stealing, 
 
 With soften'd charms from beneath her shroud 
 Her pure, palHd form revealing. 
 
 So the vestal beams, when — a stranger nigli — 
 
 She drops with reluctant duty 
 The veil which shadows her flashing eye, 
 
 But which cannot conceal its beauty. 
 
45 
 
 And still as she pass'd, and her ray so bright 
 She threw where the warrior lay sleeping. 
 
 She seem'd to my fancy a spirit of light, 
 Her watch o'er the dear turf keeping. 
 
 Peace to thine ashes, young, generous, brave- 
 Fallen in the prime of thy glory ; 
 
 Thy country's sorrow shall hallow thy grave, 
 And thy name shall live in her story. 
 
46 
 
 OH, DINNA TURN AWA'. 
 
 Oh dinna turn awa', 
 
 And leave me thus to pine ; 
 My cot, my gear, I'd barter a' 
 
 For ae sweet smile o' thine. 
 Though lairds hae sought thy han', 
 
 We should na therefore part ; 
 For lairds maj offer mair o' Ian', 
 
 But nae sae true a heart. 
 
 Then dinna turn awa'. 
 
47 
 
 Thine o'c will lose its power — 
 
 Thy cheek will lose its hue ; 
 Thy laird will seek a fairer flower. 
 
 And hid thee, love, adieu. 
 Though humble as my sang, 
 
 I boast a purer flame ; 
 For years hae pass'd — may pass alang- 
 
 Thou'lt find me aye the same. 
 
 Then dinna turn awa'. 
 
48 
 
 SAY NOT LIFE IS A WASTE OF (ILOOiVI. 
 
 Say not life is a waste of gloom, 
 Where no stars break forth, and no flow'rets bloom. 
 If the stars that have lighted 
 
 Thy path be gone, 
 If the flowers be blighted 
 That round thee shone, 
 Come then, dearest, come unto me, 
 I'll be the stars and the flowers to thee. 
 
49 
 
 Say not love in thy soul is o'er, 
 Or that friendship never can charm thee more. 
 If the voice that could waken 
 
 Love's thrill be at rest. 
 And if death have taken 
 The friend of thy breast, 
 Come then, dearest, come unto me, 
 I'll be the lover, the friend to thee. 
 
50 
 
 ISABEL. 
 
 The sword was sheath'd — the war was o'er- 
 
 And soon beyond the western main 
 Again I trod my native shore, 
 
 I breath'd my native air again. 
 I reach'd my own beloved bower, 
 
 Where every flower possess'd a spell 
 To bind my heart — for every flower 
 
 Reminded me of Isabel. 
 
51 
 
 The roses still as brightly bloom'd 
 
 As when mine eye beheld them last ; 
 As sweet the violet perfum'd 
 
 The wings of zephyr as he pass'd ; 
 The streamlet flowM as softly now 
 
 As in those days remember'd well ; 
 The very breeze that fann'd my brow. 
 
 It seem'd to breathe of Isabel. 
 
 And where was she ? — I saw her not — 
 
 Alas, I ne'er can see her there ! 
 Time, which had spar'd that fairy spot, 
 
 Had bhghted all that made it fair. 
 For this, for this the world I spurn'd. 
 
 And bade its once lov'd scenes farewell 
 On Heaven alone my thoughts are turn'd. 
 
 My heart is still with Isabel. 
 
52 
 
 NAY, DREAM NOT THAT TIME CAN UNRIVET. 
 
 Nay, dream not that time can unrivet 
 
 The chains which affection hath twin'd ; 
 Or that love, Hke the vane on its pivot. 
 
 Will twirl with each changeable wind. 
 Though sunder'd and sad we move on, love. 
 
 Yet heart still is coupled to heart. 
 And the cords but the firmer are drawn, love. 
 
 The fiirther we journey apart. 
 
53 
 
 The beacon is dear to the seaman, 
 
 Which guides him across the dark sea : 
 And Uberty's dear to the freeman, 
 
 But thou art still dearer to me. 
 Thine accents of peace, wert thou nigh, love, 
 
 Like balm on my spirit would fall ; 
 Not a cloud should then darken my sky, love, 
 
 Thy kind glance would scatter them all. 
 
 Some breasts are like sand in the river, 
 
 Where every form we may trace, 
 While as quickly its ripples for ever 
 
 Those short-liv'd impressions efface. 
 But mine's like the stubborn rock, love, 
 
 Engraved with one image so fair ; 
 And the surge and the tempest's rude shock, love. 
 
 But stamp it indelibly there. 
 
 5* 
 
54 
 
 The last ray the setting sun darted, 
 
 How brightly it gilded the plain ! 
 Even now, though that sun is departed, 
 
 The tints of his splendour remain. 
 And thus o'er my memory shone, love. 
 
 Thy last parting beams of regret ; 
 The planet which shed them is gone, love, 
 
 But their mild halo lingers there yet. 
 
 Then dream not that constancy falters, 
 
 If distance be measur'd between ; 
 Or that love, httle innocent, alters 
 
 His plume with the altering scene. 
 Oh no — for where'er we move on, love, 
 
 Still heart is united to heart, 
 And the links but the firmer are drawn, love, 
 
 The further we journey apart. 
 
55 
 
 'TIS NOT WHEN THE BROW IS BRIGHT. 
 
 'Tis not when the brow is bright 
 That the heart is still most light ; 
 'Tis not when 'tis clouded o'er 
 That the heart still feels the more. 
 
 Tears may flow, 
 
 Though not of sadness : 
 
 Smiles may glow, 
 
 Though not of gladness : 
 There are sweetest joys which lie 
 Far too deep for other's eye ; 
 There are keenest pangs of wo 
 None but they who feel can know. 
 
56 
 
 THE MOON IS TRAVELLING THROUGH THE SKY 
 
 The moon is travelling through the sky. 
 
 Without a cloud to dim her path ; 
 A thousand lamps are lit on high, 
 
 And each a mimic rival hath 
 In the clear wave reflected bright. 
 Oh, often, when, on such a night, 
 I've floated o''er its breast, and gaz'd 
 Upon the star that o'er me blaz'd. 
 And then in pensive mood have turn'd 
 To that which far beneath me burn'd — 
 I've thought the one was like the beaming 
 Of promis'd joys still brightest seeming ; 
 The other, twinkling through its tears, 
 Like memory of departed years. 
 
57 
 
 TOUJOURS FIDELLE. 
 
 ToujouRS fidelle, the warrior cried, 
 
 As he seiz'd his courser's rein, 
 And bending over his weeping bride, 
 He whisper'd the hope which his heart denied. 
 
 That thej soon might meet again. 
 And fear not, he said, though the wide, wide sea 
 
 Betwixt us its billows swell ; 
 Believe me, dearest, thy knight will be 
 To France and to honour — to love and to thee, 
 Toujours fidelle. 
 
58 
 
 Then proudly her forehead that lady rears. 
 
 And proudly she thus rephed — 
 Nay, think not my sorrow proceeds from fears — 
 And the glance which she threw, though it shone 
 through tears. 
 
 Was the glance of a soldier's bride. 
 Not mine is the wish to bid thee stay. 
 
 Though I cannot pronounce, " farewell ;" 
 Since glory calls thee — away, away — 
 
 And still be thy watch-word on battle day, 
 Toujours fidelle. 
 
 One moment he gaz'd — the lingering knight — 
 
 The next to the field he sped : 
 Why need I tell of the deadly fight, 
 But to mark his fate ? — for his country's right 
 
 He battled — and he bled. 
 
59 
 
 Yet he died as the brave alone can die — 
 
 The conqueror's shout his knell : 
 His sleep was the slumber of victory — 
 And for her whom he lov'd his latest sigh. 
 Toujours fidelle. 
 
60 
 
 WHY SHOULD'ST THOU THINK MY HEART IS 
 CHANGED. 
 
 Why should'st thou think my heart is changM 
 
 Why should'st thou say I love thee not ; 
 Can love like mine be e'er estrang'd : 
 
 Can truth like thine be e'er forgot ? 
 Have I not still through wo and weal, 
 
 Watch'd o'er thee with a brother's care ? 
 Had'st thou a grief I did not feel, 
 
 Have I a joy thou dost not share ? 
 The subject of my nightly dream, 
 
 The burthen of my waking thought ; 
 By night, by day, my constant theme — 
 
 How could'st thou think I lov'd thee not ? 
 
61 
 
 For thee, when brightest flowers I meet. 
 
 The blushing garland still I twine ; 
 Whene'er my lips their song repeat, 
 
 The name they murmur still is thine ; 
 And when my pencil seeks to trace 
 
 Some angel form, beneath its touch 
 Still spring to life that fairy grace. 
 
 Those features I have lov'd so much. 
 1 mourn thee absent — feel when near 
 
 A rapture none can rank above ; 
 If this be not to love thee, dear. 
 
 Oh, tell me what it is to love ! 
 
 6 
 
62 
 
 SHE IS GONE TO THE PLACE OF HER REST. 
 
 She is gone to the place of her rest, 
 
 Where sorrow can reach her never: 
 She is flown to the realms of the hlest, 
 
 She is lost to our view for ever. 
 Her dust hath returned to the earth, 
 
 Ere the canker of age decay'd it ; 
 And, pure as it came at her birth, 
 
 Her spirit to Him who made it. 
 
63 
 
 There riseth no marble fair 
 
 O'er her grave, its memorial keeping': 
 But for her who reposeth there 
 
 Still many an eye is weeping. 
 There needeth no idle stone 
 
 To tell of the worth that hath perish'd ; 
 On our hearts 'tis engraven alone, 
 
 Where her memory long will be cherish'd. 
 
64 
 
 SACRED MELODY 
 
 Oh Lord, thou hast searched my ways, '. 
 
 And hast watch'd o'er my nights and my days, i 
 And thou know'st, ere my tongue can impart, i 
 The innermost thoughts of my heart. 
 Whither can I turn for a spot 
 Where thy presence, thy spirit, is not ! 
 
 If to Heaven's high courts I repair. 
 
 Or to Hell's lowest depths — thou art there. 
 
 On the wings of the morn, if I flee 
 
 To the uttermost parts of the sea, 
 
 Even there will thy guidance be found-— 
 
 Thy providence compass me round. 
 
65 
 
 Should I say, '' I'll in darkness abide. 
 For surely the darkness can hide ;" 
 Around me thy sunshine shall play, 
 And the night shall be bright as the day ; 
 For oh, to thine a//-piercing sight 
 Alike are the darkness and light. 
 
 But wherefore, my God, should I try 
 From the light of thy presence to fly ? 
 'Tis to thee my existence I owe, 
 And the joys from existence that flow : 
 And 'tis thou that prolongest my days- — 
 Oh, let them be spent in thy praise ! 
 
 6^ 
 
66 
 
 PENSEES, 
 
 Evils surround thee from thy hirth, 
 
 Vain man — thine hours how few they be 
 
 To-daj thou coverest the earth. 
 The earth to-morrow covers thee. 
 
 Time blots out benefits, alas, 
 
 While injuries his power withstand ; 
 The latter we record on brass — 
 
 The former register in sand. 
 
67 
 
 WHERE ARE THE KINGS OF FORMER TIMES. 
 
 Where are the kings of former times, 
 
 The conquerors of the earth, 
 Who stain'd the sceptre with their crimes, 
 
 Or grac'd it with their worth ? 
 Where are thej now ? — the hand of death 
 
 Hath crush'd them in their pride ; 
 Their power departed with their breath — 
 
 They liv'd — and they have died. 
 
68 
 
 SACRED MELODY. 
 
 Not unto us, oh Lord, but thee. 
 
 From whom our various blessings flow, 
 Let praise and glory ever be. 
 
 Throughout the wond'ring worlds below. 
 
 Thou reign'st unrivalPd and alone — 
 No arm to stay, no power to bind ; 
 
 Karth for thy footstool — Heaven thy throne- 
 The clouds thy car — thy paths the wind. 
 
 Thine is the sun that flames on high. 
 The moon that sheds her milder light ; 
 
69 
 
 And thine those brilHants of the sky 
 That sparkle on the brow of night. 
 
 Thine are the tenants of the stream, 
 The bird whose note all nature thrills ; 
 
 The insect sporting in the beam, 
 The cattle on a thousand hills. 
 
 Then not to us of mortal frame, 
 Not unto us be songs of praise : 
 
 But thee, unchangeably the same, 
 The Ancient of Eternal dajs. 
 
70 
 
 THE ROSE THAT BUDS AND BLOOMS. 
 
 The rose that buds and blooms 
 
 Beneath the summer ray, 
 If winter spread its glooms, 
 
 Must droop and fade away. 
 So health, and wit, and power. 
 
 And beauty fade away ; 
 But ah, unlike the flower, 
 
 They have no second May, 
 
71 
 
 Then hoard, ere youth be spent, 
 
 Those inward charms refinM, 
 Which, like the rose's scent, 
 
 Will still remain behind ; 
 Undying, undecay'd, 
 
 Will still remain behind ; 
 Such charms can never fade, 
 
 They flourish in the mind. 
 
72 
 
 'TIS LONG SINCE WE HAVE MET. 
 
 'Tis long since we have met, my dear, 
 
 And longer seems to be ; 
 But ne'er can I forget, my dear, 
 
 Our love's wild infancy ; — 
 The joy, the grief, the hope, the fear. 
 That mark'd the varied hours, my dear, 
 
 Which I have spent with thee. 
 And never can I feel again 
 Rapture like that which thrill'd me then. 
 
 But though our dream be o'er, my love. 
 Our transient dream of bliss ; 
 
73 
 
 And though we meet no more, my love. 
 
 In such a world as this — 
 Still faith points fervently above, 
 And bids us trust that there, my love, 
 
 Is perfect happiness, 
 Beyond the reach of human thought ; 
 A home where sorrow enters not. 
 
 Then from my eyelid thus, my sweet, 
 
 I dash away the tear ; 
 O'erjoy'd that yet for us, my sweet. 
 
 Such brightening hopes appear. 
 That yet in purer worlds shall meet 
 The happy souls of those, my sweet, 
 
 Who were the fondest here : 
 And freed from every earthly care. 
 Shall live and love for ever there. 
 
 7 
 
74 
 
 THOUGH THE COLD HAND OF SICKNESS. 
 
 Though the cold hand of sickness thy pale brow hath 
 
 crost, 
 And thine eye for a moment its splendour hath lost. 
 Soon health to thy cheek shall its freshness restore. 
 And that eye with new lustre shall sparkle once more. 
 
 i 
 
 Yes, the spring-time of health may thy beauties renew, 
 But he who now sorrows to bid thee adieu, 
 Shall never again with fond triumph descry 
 The bloom of thy cheek, or the light of thine eye. 
 
 Oh, his path may be rude — and in far distant clime 
 He may wander unblest — ^but the finger of time. 
 
 i 
 
75 
 
 Though from memory's page it aught else should 
 
 erase, 
 There deeper and deeper thine image shall trace. 
 
 And still all thy power shall that image retain. 
 To share in his welfare or solace his pain ; 
 And still when arises his incense of pray'r, 
 At morn or at even, thy name shall be there. 
 
 And when death from this dark world shall bid him 
 
 depart, 
 Oh let him but whisper in peace to his heart, 
 That the friend whom it lov'd — whom it cherish'd — 
 
 is blest, 
 And calm and contented 'twill sink to its rest. 
 
76 
 
 YOUNG LOVE ONE EVE WITH BOSOM LIGHT. 
 
 Young Love one eve with bosom light, 
 His skiff for pleasure's isle did steer ; 
 The sky above was clear and bright, 
 
 And the wave beneath was as bright and clearJ 
 His polar star was woman's eye — 
 His zephyr was woman's balmy sigh — 
 And the mists that hover'd around erewhile. 
 Were scatter'd by woman's rosy smile. 
 
77 
 
 He saiPd till on the waters blue 
 
 Appear'd an isle of the purest green 5 
 When a squall o'er the face of the waters flew, 
 
 And the blooming isle was no longer seen. 
 Then his polar star denied its ray — 
 His balmy zephyr sped away — 
 And the rosy smile that had lur'd him on 
 With the star and the zephyr, alas, was gone. 
 
 Around him whistled the gathering gale, 
 
 The night bird scream'd as it pass'd him by ; 
 
 Rent from his mast was the silken sail. 
 
 And his veins were chill'd by the wintry sky. 
 
 The wave flung aloft its foamy wreath. 
 
 And the boat and the pilot were whelm'd beneath ; 
 
 No eye to pity — no arm to save — 
 
 So the billow of Passion was young Love's grave. 
 7* 
 
78 
 
 FILL UP THE BOWL. 
 
 Fill up the bowl — since we ne'er can recover 
 
 The pleasures or sorrows of moments gone past, 
 Let us smile at our sorrows as soon as they're over, 
 
 And taste of our pleasures as long as they last. 
 Oh, who could refuse, while such nectar gushes 
 
 From our rose circled vases, its sweetness to sip ! 
 Those roses as bright as a maiden's blushes, 
 
 That nectar as rich as the dews of her hp. 
 Fill up, fill up — since we ne'er can recover 
 
 The pleasures or sorrows of moments gone past, 
 Let us smile at our sorrows as soon as they're over, 
 
 And taste of our pleasures as long as they last. 
 
79 
 
 Blest are we now, but we know not whether 
 
 This freshness of heart on the morrow may bloom ; 
 Life's shadows and hghts are so blended together 
 
 That the brightest of hours have their portion of 
 gloom. 
 The world's cold, withering frown may banish 
 
 Each feeling which now sheds a balm o'er the mind*. 
 The hue of health from our cheek may vanish, 
 
 And leave but the furrow of care behind ; 
 Yet fill, fill up — since we ne'er can recover 
 
 The pleasures or sorrows of moments gone past. 
 Let us smile at our sorrows as soon as they're over, 
 
 And taste of our pleasures as long as they last. 
 
 Brightly the stars now sparkle above us, 
 Yet soon may a cloud obscure their ray ; 
 
 Sweet are the smiles of those who love us — 
 Soon may those smiles be far away. 
 
80 
 
 But who, when no cloud is gathering o'er him. 
 
 Dreams that the tempest yet may low'r ; 
 Who, with a bowl like ours before him. 
 
 Casts a thought on the parting hour ? 
 Fill up, fill up — since we ne'er can recover 
 
 The pleasures or sorrows of moments gone past. 
 Let us smile at our sorrows as soon as they're over. 
 
 And taste of our pleasures as long as they last. 
 
81 
 
 anacreontic- 
 
 Look round — whate'eryou can descry 
 
 Has use as well as beauty ; 
 The sun that frolics through the sky, 
 The earth herself, and even 1, 
 Have each our separate duty. 
 
 Dear wine, thou source of all our glee. 
 
 (Whatever some may think thee,) 
 That earth was made thy nurse to be — 
 That sun was made to ripen thee — 
 
 And 1 was made — to drink thee. 
 
82 
 
 FARE THEE WELL. 
 
 Fare thee well — fare thee well 
 
 Now and for ever ; 
 Those billows that swell 
 
 Soon our pathways shall sever. 
 Light be thy breast — 
 
 May peace long attend it ; 
 No cares to molest, 
 
 And no sorrows to rend it. 
 
83 
 
 Oh, friends when they're near 
 
 May be dear to our bosom, 
 But are never so dear 
 
 As the moment we lose 'em. 
 And still we descry 
 
 In the far distant lover, 
 Some virtue which, nigh. 
 
 We could never discover. 
 
 Thus then — while afar 
 
 Unlov'd and unloving, 
 I rove with no star 
 
 To smile on my roving — 
 When treading alone 
 
 The bowers where Pve met thee, 
 Thus think thou of one 
 
 Who can never forget thee. 
 
84 
 
 DEAR MARY, CHECK THAT RISING SIGH. 
 
 Dear Mary, check that rising sigh, 
 
 And chase those threat'ning clouds of care 
 So fair thy cheek, so bright thine eye, 
 
 'Twere pity clouds should gather there. 
 And blame me not if I have rov'd, 
 
 For still where'er my heart might pine., 
 It lov'd — nay hear me — only lov'd 
 
 The charms which most resembled thine. 
 
85 
 
 When Lucy heard me softly speak 
 
 The tale which told my heart was won, 
 Though warm the roses on her cheek, 
 
 'Twas not her cheek I thought upon. 
 But then her smile — oh, who could say 
 
 That smile was not the most benign ! — 
 I lov'd her, dear — nay hear me pray — 
 
 Because that smile resembled thine. 
 
 When Chloe saw me at her feet, 
 
 Although her breast and virgin brow 
 Might shame the hue of mountain sleet, 
 
 It was not these that made me bow. 
 But then her eye — and such an eye — 
 
 No wonder it attracted mine ; 
 I lov'd her, dear — nay hear me why — 
 
 Because that eye resembled thine. 
 8 
 
86 
 
 When Fanny led me next aside 
 
 Laughing at the mischief which she made. 
 Though auhurn locks were Fanny's pride 
 
 I car'd not for each sunny braid. 
 But then her lips — to see them pout — 
 
 Who would not think those lips divine ! — 
 I lov'd her, dear — nay hear me out — 
 
 Because those lips resembled thine. 
 
 And thus you see in every change, 
 
 While zephyr-like from bower to bower 
 Through beauty's garden I could range, 
 
 I ne'er forgot my favourite flower. 
 Then blame me not, though I have rov'd, 
 
 But with a kiss my pardon sign ; 
 For when I lov'd, I only lov'd 
 
 The charms which most resembled thine. 
 
87 
 
 I'D WISH TO BE. 
 
 I'd wish to be the careless bird 
 
 Enamour'd of its cage, whose lay 
 At morn like fairy music heard, 
 
 Chaseth thy dream of love away. 
 I'd wish to be the matin beam 
 
 Which prints its first kiss on thy cheek. 
 As half awaken' d from that dream 
 
 The conscious blushes o'er it break. 
 I'd wish to be — I'd wish to be 
 Whatever is near or dear to thee. 
 
88 
 
 I'd wish to be the simple flower 
 
 That breathes its perfume through thy hair ; 
 I know 'twill wither in an hour, 
 
 But oh, how blest to wither there. 
 I'd wish to be the dew-drop clear 
 
 That wets thy brow from every leaf, 
 Or purer still, the sacred tear 
 
 That trickles for another's grief. 
 I'd wish to be — I'd wish to be 
 Whatever may belong to thee. 
 
 I'd wish to be the summer gale 
 That fans thy bosom with its sigh, 
 
 Stealing beneath the modest veil 
 
 Which screens thy charms from every eye. 
 
 I'd wish to be the limpid wave — 
 I'd wish to be the bower'd retreat ; 
 
89 
 
 In that your snowy limbs you lave, 
 
 In this repose from noontide heat. 
 I'd wish to be — I'd wish to be 
 Whate'er can give delight to thee. 
 
90 
 
 IF YOU LOVE, DEAR, OH BREATH NOT A 
 WORD. 
 
 If you love, dear, oh breath not a word 
 
 Lest your lips should the secret unfold ; 
 In a sigh it should only be heard, 
 
 By a glance it should only be told. 
 For there's more in an eloquent sigh 
 
 Than the softest of accents can tell ; 
 And there's that in the glance of an eye 
 
 Which no language can utter as well. 
 Then look from thy lattice my love, 
 
 In the moonbeam thy form let me see, 
 And send from that lattice above 
 
 The sigh and the glance down to me. 
 
91 
 
 If you love, dear, oh trace not a line 
 
 Lest your pen should the passion betray ; 
 
 To a blush its avowal consign — 
 
 By a smile the sweet transport convey. 
 
 For there's more in a bright blushing cheek 
 Than the readiest pen can indite ; 
 
 And the smiles which love's message bespeak 
 
 Are brilliant as letters of light. 
 Then look from thy lattice my love, 
 
 In the moonbeam thy form let me see. 
 And send from that lattice above 
 
 The blush and the smile down to me. 
 
92 
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 Heaven's last, best gift. 
 
 Oh Woman, thou star of our lonely sphere. 
 
 How dear is the light of thy love ! — 
 It leads us onward to glory here, 
 
 And guides us to peace above. 
 Though the world were bright as poets sing, 
 
 Yet its brightest spot would be 
 More dark than the angel of terror's wing. 
 
 If it were not illum'd by thee. 
 
93 
 
 Who hath not Hstened in ecstacy 
 
 To the soul-melting harps of air ? 
 The ruder the winds that o'er them stray. 
 
 The sweeter the sounds they bear. 
 And it is thus with Woman still — 
 
 When penury's blast comes o'er 
 The chords of her heart, it but makes them thrill 
 
 With a truer tone than before. 
 
 Whate'er be their knowledge, we envy not 
 
 Those cold, philosophical elves 
 Who can pore o'er their volumes, and trace their lot 
 
 In planets as cold as themselves. 
 More precious the page, and more bright the skies 
 
 Which the fate of us, poets, impart ; 
 Our only black-letter's thy tell-tale eyes — 
 
 Our elysium — wherever thou art, 
 
94 
 
 Let statesmen wrangle and warriors bleed 
 
 To win an immortal fame ; 
 They may shine for a moment — ^but 'tis their meed 
 
 To perish — aye, even in name. 
 Away with ambition— still be it mine, 
 
 Unvex'd by its cares and wiles, 
 To proffer my homage at Woman's shrine. 
 
 And bask in the heaven of her smiles. 
 
95 
 
 AULD ROBIN GRAY. 
 
 When morning's first ray beam'd 
 
 And brighten'd all the plain, 
 Each flowret smiFd, each songster seemM 
 
 To pour his sweetest strain. 
 \ thought how, free from woes, 
 
 We once were quite as gay, 
 And quite as blithe our morning rose — 
 
 My ain auld Robin Gray. 
 
96 
 
 At noon, this scene so bright 
 
 Was chang'd — for dark clouds lower'd, 
 The Hghtning wingM it's rapid flight — 
 
 The wintry torrent shower'd. 
 Oh fleetly thus, cried T, 
 
 Our morning pass'd away ; 
 Thus darkened was our noontide sky — 
 
 My ain auld Robin Gray. 
 
 When evening came, less loud 
 
 The dying tempest blew ; 
 And spots of sky Hwixt every cloud 
 
 Were seen of azure hue. 
 Thus pleasure's sun which hath 
 
 So long denied its ray, 
 Now shines upon our evening path — 
 
 My ain auld Robin Gray. 
 
97 
 
 By night the storm was gone, 
 
 The wave had sunk to rest ; 
 The trembUng beam reflected shone 
 
 On ocean's tranquil breast. 
 Oh thus, cried I, in peace 
 
 May our night pass away, 
 And thus may all our sorrows cease— 
 
 My ain auld Robin Gray. 
 
1 
 
 98 
 
 < 
 
 FANCY NOT, DEAR, I CAN E'ER FORGET. 
 
 Fancy not, dear, I can e'er forget 
 
 Thy smile in the beauties that round me I see ; 
 My heart for a moment may wander — but yet 
 
 It returns still the fonder, the truer to thee. 
 The cheeks of our maidens are blooming with youth, 
 
 And the brightest of eyes in our firmament shine ; 
 But those cannot match the pure blushes of truth, 
 
 Nor these the intelligent lustre of thine. 
 Then fancy not, dear, I can e'er forget 
 
 Thy smile in the beauties that round me I see ; 
 My heart for a moment may wander — but yet 
 
 It returns still the fonder, the truer to thee. 
 
99 
 
 Oh what were the landscape di splay M to our sight 
 
 Though rich as the pencil of nature e'er drew, 
 Were it not for the sunbeam that pierces its night, 
 
 And calls forth each slumbering beauty to view. 
 'Twould lightly be held — and as lightly we prize, 
 
 Though aidedby all which the heart might control, 
 The fairest of cheeks, or the brightest of eyes, 
 
 If they be not lit up by the beams of the soul. 
 Then fancy not, dear, I can e'er forget 
 
 Thy smile in the beauties that round me I see ; 
 My heart for a moment may wander — but yet 
 
 It returns still the fonder, the truer to thee. 
 
 I 
 
100 
 
 OH, THIS IS LOVE. 
 
 Oh, this is love — warm, faithful love, 
 
 Which never knows decay. 
 But still where'er our footsteps rove, 
 
 Adorns and lights our way. 
 Which blooms alike in wo and weal 
 
 As fearlessly and well ; 
 Which only fondest hearts can feel, 
 
 And those who feel can tell. 
 
101 
 
 Unchanging as the flame that glows 
 
 In breasts of seraph birth ; 
 And spotless as descending snows 
 
 Ere stain'd by touch of earth — 
 And bright as yonder arch above, 
 
 As yonder beacon true ; 
 Oh, this is love — warm, faithful love- 
 
 The love I bear to you. 
 
 9* 
 
J 02 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 Written after visiting Loch Dc 
 
 Farewell, " bonnie Doon" — I have gazM on thy lake 
 
 When it lay as if hush'd in the stilness of death ; 
 I have seen thy young stream o'er the precipice break, 
 
 As it bounded along through the glen of Berbeth. 
 I have watch'd thee with breast like a mirror so bright. 
 
 Alternate reflecting the shadow and ray ; 
 Now shrouded in gloom and now sporting in light, 
 
 Till you melted at length into ocean away. 
 
103 
 
 Like thy lake was my infancy — tranquil and mild — 
 
 As unruffled my breast, and as cloudless my sky ; 
 Like the strength of thy rivulet — passionate, wild — 
 
 Have the days of my boyhood swept heedlessly by. 
 May the close of my course be as placid as thine ; 
 
 May the beams of forgiveness thus over it play. 
 To illumine its track and to cheer its decline. 
 
 As it melts in eternity's ocean away. 
 
104 
 
 ADELE. 
 
 Oh, long have 1 lov'd my Adele, 
 
 And her heart paid me still in return 
 Till now she has bid me farewell, 
 
 Though fondly as ever I burn. 
 I wish to despise her neglect — 
 
 I wish to become as untrue ; 
 I wish — but whene'er I reflect, 
 
 I forget what I wish'd to do. 
 
105 
 
 I wish from her presence to fly ; 
 
 I wish to remember no more 
 My love or the treachery 
 
 Of her whom I once could adore. 
 I wish — and if she were not near, 
 
 Some other, perhaps, I might woo ; 
 I wish — let Adele but appear, 
 
 I forget all I wish'd to do. 
 
 On my ear when her soft accents break 
 
 They add to my trouble and pain ; 
 In vain I endeavour to speak, 
 
 I sigh, and in silence remain. 
 I wish — when I'm far from her spell, 
 
 That like her I could cease to be true 
 I wish — but when near my Adele 
 
 I foi^et what I wish'd to do. 
 
106 
 
 CUISH LA MA CHREE. 
 
 When in youth's sunny prime 
 
 Thoughtless and free, 
 Nature in every cHme 
 
 Burning to see — 
 Erin, I left thy shore 
 Roaming each region o'er, 
 'Twas but to love thee more, 
 Cuish la ma chree. 
 
107 
 
 What though on foreign soil 
 
 Hapless I be, 
 Still doth it sweeten toil 
 
 Thinking of thee. 
 And when life's ebbing sand 
 Points out its close at hand, 
 Once more I'll seek thy strand, 
 
 Cuish la ma chree. 
 
 Thus yonder orb of day 
 
 Eastward we see, 
 Gild with his morning ray 
 
 Mountain and lea ; 
 But at the hour of rest 
 Still turns he tow'rd the west, 
 Seeking thy peaceful breast, 
 
 Cuish la ma chree. 
 
108 
 
 TO 
 
 If ever yet a gleam of mirth 
 
 From my sad bosom banish'd 
 The cares which bow it down to earth, 
 To 3^ou alone it owed its birtli, 
 And oh, with you it vanish'd. 
 
 So, while the summer sunbeams play 
 Upon some darkling river, 
 
 It warmly flashes back the ray ; 
 
 But if the beam be turn'd away 
 The tide is dark as ever. 
 
109 
 
 SWEET STREAMLET. 
 
 Sweet streamlet, flowing on thy way, 
 How much my lot resembles thine ; 
 
 Thou from thy course dost never stray 
 And I am constant still to mine. 
 
 How silently thy waters glide — 
 As silently my moments move ; 
 
 How pure the crystal of thy tide — 
 As pure for Emma is my love. 
 10 
 
110 
 
 The storms that vex the prouder wave 
 Thy humble current ruffle not ; 
 
 So I the storms of fortune brave — 
 They pass me by and are forgot. 
 
 When Emma wanders near to thee 
 Thy breast reflects the portrait fair ; 
 
 Look into mine, and thou wilt see 
 Her form as truly pictur'd there. 
 
 Thou hast no deep, deceitful place, 
 And I no deep, deceitful art ; 
 
 The bottom of thy bed we trace, 
 And read the bottom of my heart. 
 
 Thy waters still with gentle force 
 Flow onward to their goal — the main, 
 
Ill 
 
 Till winter's power arrest their course 
 And bind them with its icy chain. 
 
 So flow my hopes unceasing on — 
 My Emma's love their only goal ; 
 
 So will they flow till life be done 
 And icy death arrest my soul. 
 
112 
 
 WHEN FIRST WE MET. 
 
 When first we met^ — when first we met — 
 
 In ringlets curl'd thy jetty hair, 
 And sorrow's tear had never wet 
 
 Thy cheek, to stain the roses there. 
 But roses there no longer blow. 
 
 And blanch'd are now those locks of jet. 
 For sorrow's tear hath learn'd to flow 
 
 Since first we met — since first we met. 
 
113 
 
 When tirst we met — when first we met — 
 
 Thine eye was like the falcon's bright ; 
 And care had never dared to set 
 
 His seal upon thy brow of light. 
 Those eyes, so dim and wasted now, 
 
 Their former power almost foi^et ; 
 And care hath furrow'd o'er that brow 
 
 Since first we met — since first we met. 
 
 When first we met — when first we met — 
 
 Thy heart could feel another's grief ; 
 And feels it not as warmly yet — 
 
 As warmly glows to grant rehef ? 
 It does, it does — that generous tear — 
 
 Then why thy fleeting charms regret, 
 Since thou art still as truly dear 
 
 As when we met — when first we met. 
 10* 
 
114 
 
 THINK NOT, DEAREST. 
 
 Think not, dearest, that my love 
 Is but light and ranging ; 
 
 Every change it soars above, 
 In itself unchanging. 
 
 Sorrow may my heart depress, 
 Pleasure may elate it ; 
 
 This can ne'er my love increase — 
 That shall ne'er abate it, dear, 
 That shall ne'er abate it. 
 
 When our prospects bode no ill 
 Then may love seem weakest ; 
 
115 
 
 But 'tis strongest, purest still 
 When our hopes are bleakest — 
 
 As those meteors which illume 
 Heaven's horizon nightly, 
 
 From amid the deepest gloom 
 Sparkle forth most brightly, dear, 
 Sparkle forth most brightly. 
 
 And as age but makes the vine. 
 Whose young tendrils wander 
 
 Round the sapling's stem, entwine 
 Fonder there and fonder— 
 
 So my breast for thee retains 
 The first love that bound it ; 
 
 Time can only twine the chains 
 Still more firmly round it, dear, 
 Still more firmly round it. 
 
116 
 
 TO MY CARRIER-DOVE. 
 
 " Oil Saint Valentine's eve every true knigiit will dream of liis 
 Ladye-love, and every Ladye of her trustie Knight ; moreover, thoy 
 will whisper from their sleepe the names of the persons so dreamed 
 of." — Essay on Dreams- 
 
 Away, away, my carrier-dove, 
 Thy lord's behest to bear ; 
 
 To-night love rules below, above. 
 Around and every where. 
 
117 
 
 The youth will dream with pure delight 
 Of the maid whom he loves so well ; 
 
 And th' unconscious maid will reveal to-night 
 What to-morrow she'd blush to tell. 
 
 Away, away, my carrier- dove. 
 
 Nor stay thy snow-white wing 
 Till you reach the couch where my own dear love 
 
 Lies sweetly slumbering. 
 And when from amid her tranquil rest 
 
 She breathes to Saint Valentine 
 The name of him whom she loves the best. 
 
 Oh, hst if she whisper mine. 
 
118 
 
 WHEN THE POOR PILGRIM, BENT WITH PAIN 
 
 When the poor pilgrim, bent with pain, 
 
 Foresees his parting moments nigh, 
 He seeks to reach that sacred fane 
 
 Which heard his earUest vows — to die. 
 He stops not in his path — though there 
 
 The brightest flowers their sweets display ; 
 Though richest altars court his pray'r 
 
 He turns not from his constant way ; 
 But worn with toil, and weak with fast. 
 
 And wasted by meridian fires, 
 He gains the sacred fane at last, 
 
 And bending at its shrine — expires. 
 
119 
 
 Thus I, whose course of joy is o'er, 
 
 Have sought, ere life be spent, to bow 
 Before that spotless shrine once more 
 
 Where first I breath'd my morning vow. 
 Though altars that might well have vied 
 
 Even with mine own around me shone, 
 My heart hath never turn'd aside ; 
 
 But, restless still, I've wander'd on. 
 Till now in all its pomp divine 
 
 The wish'd-for fane at length I see, 
 And lowly bending at its shrine. 
 
 Breathe forth my soul — adoring thee. 
 
no 
 
 I SAW TWO YOUNG ROSE TREES. 
 
 1 SAW two young rose trees, that wavM in the blast. 
 Their briars and their blossoms so fondly entwine : 
 
 I saw them, the moment the tempest swept past, 
 Part coldly for ever, nor seem to repine. 
 
 And I thought of the hearts that had flourish'd likethein. 
 
 And like them too, in wo had united their frame 
 As closely as if they had sprung from one stem — 
 
 Their joys, and their hopes, and their sorrows the 
 same : 
 
 Yet, soon as adversity's trial was o'er, 
 Had parted as widely, as coldly as those ; 
 
121 
 
 Forgotten each tie that had bound them before, 
 And from dearest of friends become rankest of foes. 
 
 And I could not but marvel that they whom the hour 
 Of peril had movM not — thus calmly should part ; 
 
 But it is not the tempest that cankers the flow'r, 
 And it is not affliction that changes the heart. 
 
 No,theflow'retwill live through the cold dews of night, 
 And bloom forth at morning more blushing and fair ; 
 
 But if noon pour around it its fulness of light, 
 It will pine on the stem, and lie withering there. 
 
 And the soft joys of pleasure that breast will disarm 
 Which had never been quell'd by adversity's fears ; 
 
 As the mist that unshaken has weather'd the storm. 
 By the first gleam of sunshine is turn'd into tears. 
 11 
 
122 
 
 LOVE BLOOMS UPON THY CHEEK SO FAIR. J 
 
 f 
 
 I 
 
 Love blooms upon thy cheek so fair, 
 
 And sparkles in thine eye ; 
 He wantons in thy flowing hair, 
 
 And breathes in every sigh. 
 He gives thy voice its melting tone — 
 
 He gives thy mien its grace ; 
 But in thine icy heart alone 
 
 He never finds a place. 
 
123 
 
 I'll bow no more, as I have done, 
 
 At shrines so cold the knee ; 
 I'll sing no more of love for one 
 
 Who will not list to me. 
 Thus, thus for ever do we part — 
 
 And thus I break the chain 
 Which once you bound around my heart, 
 
 But ne'er can bind again. 
 
124 
 
 WHEN THE BEE NEGLECTS TO SIP. 
 
 When the Bee neglects to sip 
 Sweets from every flow'ret's lip ; 
 When the golden child of day 
 Turns her from the worshipp'd ray, 
 
 Then farewell to thee, dear ; 
 But till bees no longer rove, 
 And till sun-flowers cease to love, 
 
 Faithful will 1 be, dear. 
 
125 
 
 When the breeze that o'er her blows 
 Wafts no perfume from the rose ; 
 When the minstrel of the shade 
 Pours not forth his serenade, 
 
 Then farewell to thee, dear ; 
 But till rosy odours fail, 
 And till mute the nightingale, 
 
 Faithful will 1 be, dear. 
 
 When the dove with anxious breast 
 Broods not o'er her downy nest ; 
 When the crystal stream no more 
 Mirrors the o'erhanging shore, 
 
 Then farewell to thee, dear ; 
 But till then — through joy and wo. 
 Winter's chill and summer's glow, 
 
 Faithful will I be, dear. 
 IP 
 
126 
 
 THE DAYS ARE GONE. 
 
 The days are gone — for ever gone — 
 Jire fancy taught my heart to rove ; 
 When the pure flame that led me on 
 
 Was kindled at the shrine of love. 
 When nature wore her brightest smile, 
 
 And pleasure knew of no alloy ; 
 When every breast was free from guile, 
 
 And every cheek was flush'd with joy- 
 
127 
 
 1 mingled with the careless throng, 
 
 1 sported in th' enlivening ray ; 
 To love I tun'd my matin song, 
 
 To love 1 breathM my vesper lay. 
 Bright eyes and sunny looks were there, 
 
 And cheeks unsullied by a tear ; 
 My heart acknowledg'd all were fair, 
 
 Yet only one of all was dear. 
 
 And can I ne'er those hours renew, 
 
 Life's sweetest hours ? and is there none 
 To love as thou wert wont to do — 
 
 To cheer as thou wouldst now have done ? 
 No — life is but one dull, dark night 
 
 Of cloud sand misery — for thou, 
 Brightest of all that made it bright, 
 
 Even thou hast set in darkness now. 
 
128 
 
 And faithful memory, while she grieves 
 
 At the review of former years, 
 And casts her weary glance o'er leaves 
 
 Deform'd by blots, or slainM with tear; 
 Turns fondly to that sacred spot, 
 
 That page from stain or error free. 
 Which tells of moments ne'er forgot 
 
 Of love, and happiness, and thee. 
 
 Of thee and love too wild to last — 
 
 Oh tell me not that beams which flow 
 From memory of pleasure past 
 
 Can shed a light o'er present wo. 
 Alas, those very beams instead 
 
 But make our present gloom the worse 
 When joy is flown and hope has fled, 
 
 Then even memory proves a curse. 
 
129 
 
 To feel that beauty once has blest 
 
 The heart she ne'er can bless again ; 
 That pleasure's cup has once been prest 
 
 To lips that now are parch'd with pain. 
 That every dear and cherish'd bliss 
 
 Has vanish'd like a morning dream ; 
 When memory teaches only this, 
 
 How sweet were Lethe's fabled stream ! 
 
130 
 
 THE RING. 
 
 The ring you gave — that simple ring 
 
 Might well thine emblem be ; 
 No gems around it glittering 
 
 In proud array we see : 
 But all is modest to the sight, 
 
 Yet sterling in degree ; 
 As virtue pure — as honour bright — 
 
 Like thee, my love, like thee. 
 
131 
 
 THE PORTRAIT. 
 
 When to the Graces' wondering view 
 
 Young Love, one day, unfolded 
 The portrait of that form so true 
 
 Which his own hand had moulded. 
 'Tis mine, 'tis mine, Thalia cries, 
 
 That air so arch and simple ; 
 Aglaia claims the laughing eyes — 
 
 Euphrosyne the dimple. 
 But Love who, with a roguish smile, 
 
 Had listen'd to each stricture, 
 Thus spoke, their claims to reconcile- 
 
 It is my Julia's picture. 
 
132 
 
 OH, TRUER IS THE COURTIER'S TEAR. 
 
 Oh, truer is the courtier's tear 
 Shed o'er a fallen tyrant's bier ; 
 Truer the praises poets sing, 
 Or sighs, or vows — or any thing 
 Above, below — divine or human — 
 Than woman — fickle, faithless woman. 
 
 Turn from her sparkling orbs of blue, 
 And gaze not on her cheek's soft hue; 
 Within no lights of genius spring — 
 No mental rose is blossoming. 
 
133 
 
 So day's warm beams may gild the tomb 
 And sweetest flowers around may breathe; 
 
 Yet can they not impart their bloom, 
 Their spirit to the dust beneath. 
 
 Fly from her smile — though bright and warm 
 'Tis false as sunbeam 'mid the storm. 
 When the pure, transient gleam is gone 
 More darkly rolls the tempest on ; 
 And thus when woman's smile is o'er. 
 Her frowns grow darker than before. 
 
 And though her bosom seem to be 
 The dwelling-place of purity. 
 Yet feeble there is reason's ray 
 And passion holds unbounded sway. 
 
 12 
 
134 
 
 So Etna rears her smiling crest 
 
 And seems all hush'd in sweet repose. 
 
 While pent within her raging breast 
 The quenchless flame for ever glows. 
 
 Then rather trust the courtier's tear 
 Shed o'er a fallen tyrant's bier, 
 Or praise that hireling poets sing, 
 Or sighs, or vows — or any thing, 
 Above, below— divine or human — 
 Than woman, — fickle, faithless woman. 
 
135 
 
 AH WHEREFORE REPROVE. 
 
 Ah wherefore reprove 
 
 Mj words of love, 
 And whisper thus, " fie for shame," my dear ; 
 
 If shame there be 
 
 In adoring thee, 
 You have none but yourself to blame, my dear. 
 
 Or why should your cheek 
 
 Such anger bespeak ; — 
 1 ask but the loan of a kiss, my dear, 
 
 And I know that thou art 
 
 Too tender of heart 
 To deny such a trifle as this, my dear. 
 
136 
 
 The zephyr of spring 
 
 Still scents his wing 
 IVom the rose-bud he passes o'er, my dear ; 
 
 And steals as he flies 
 
 Her balmiest sighs, 
 Yet the flow'ret is sweet as before, my dear. 
 
 And so with ease 
 
 If beauty please, 
 From the lips where such treasures are left, my dear. 
 
 Can love purloin 
 
 The richest coin, 
 And no one discover the theft, my dear. 
 
 Then keep not thus 
 Such a terrible fuss. 
 Nor torture your sweet little mind, my dear. 
 
137 
 
 With the idle fear 
 
 That if lips come too near 
 Some trace maj be left behind, my dear. 
 
 But pray incline 
 
 Your cheek to mine — 
 There's nobody nigh to see, my dear ; 
 
 You'll never miss 
 
 The borrowed kiss, 
 And oh, 'twill be precious to me, my dear. 
 
 12 
 
138 
 
 LADIES, GOOD BYE. 
 
 Ladies, good bye 
 
 To your arts and wiles ; 
 No longer care I 
 
 For your frowns or smiles. 
 Gone are the days 
 
 When woman could sway me. 
 When a smile could raise 
 
 Or a frown dismay me. 
 
139 
 
 In vain, as of old, 
 
 Love's torch brightly shineth, 
 Or his bands of gold 
 
 The little god twineth. 
 In vain pleasure layeth 
 
 Her toils around me, 
 Or beauty displayeth 
 
 The charms that once bound me. 
 
 Unheeded they kneel. 
 
 And unheeded they warble ; 
 My breast is of steel — 
 
 And my ears are of marble. 
 So, ladies, good bye 
 
 To your arts and wiles ; 
 Little care I 
 
 For your frowns or smiles. 
 
140 
 
 MADRIGAL 
 
 J WOULD have begg'd of Love to be 
 The bearer of my vows to thee, 
 
 But that I fear'd the treacherous elf, 
 When he had once beheld thine eyes 
 Would have forgot my tears and sighs. 
 
 And wooed thee only for himself. 
 
141 
 
 MADRIGAL. 
 
 Oh no, I will never love more — 
 I swear as I've sworn before ; — 
 Since vanity, pride, caprice 
 
 In the most of thy sex are met ; 
 Since one never could live in peace 
 
 With a prude or a pert coquette : 
 Oh no — ^I have argued it o'er — 
 No, no, I will never love more — 
 
 Any but thee, Lisette. 
 
142 
 
 TRIOLET. 
 
 TO THREE SISTERS. 
 
 Sister Graces, among you three 
 
 To which shall I my heart surrender ? 
 Little of choice is left to me 
 Sister Graces, among you three — 
 Each has her claims — my love must be 
 
 Of temper mild, and of soul most tender ; 
 Sister Graces, among you three 
 
 To which shall I my heart surrender .' 
 
143 
 
 TRIOLET. 
 
 To guard her flock and guard her heart 
 Is too much for a shepherdess : 
 
 'Tis no such very easy part 
 
 To guard her flock and guard her heart ; 
 
 When swains assail the one with art. 
 
 And wolves with force the other press, 
 
 To guard her flock and guard her heart 
 Is too much for a shepherdess. 
 
144 
 
 EPITAPH 
 
 ON A LAWYER, 
 
 Reader, there sleeps beneath this stone 
 
 A Lawyer, and an honest one ; — 
 
 If thou hast e'*er been doom'd to know 
 
 The plagues with which a lawsuit's tainted. 
 Draw near and o'er him vent thy wo ; 
 
 But if perchance thou'rt unacquainted, 
 Pass on — pray heaven to keep thee so. 
 
145 
 
 EPITAPH 
 
 ON DR. 
 
 Our Doctor's gone, but ere he went 
 
 He kept us in terror em, 
 And half the neighbourhood he sent 
 
 To clear the way before him. 
 
 13 
 
146 
 
 EPITAPH 
 
 ON A SCOLD. 
 
 Here rests in death, thank God, my wife. 
 A thing she never did in Hfe ; 
 'Twere needless, reader, to repine — 
 She takes her ease and gives me mine. 
 
147 
 
 EPITAPH 
 
 ON A BON-VIVANT. 
 
 On downy wings my years flew on — 
 
 Years of pleasure 
 
 And years of whim ; 
 Till death vouchsaf'd to think of one 
 
 Who never found leisure 
 
 To think of him. 
 
148 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 IN VINO VERITAS. 
 
 Truth, says the proverb, 's in our cup — 
 And truth should be the search of youth j 
 
 So while I quaff my nectar up 
 I'm only searching after truth. 
 
149 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 GREECE. 
 
 Greece, though in these our latter ages 
 So vaunted for her learned schools, 
 
 Could only number seven sages — 
 
 How rich she must have been in fools ! 
 
 13- 
 
150 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 HEART AND BODY. 
 To a Lady who had stolen the former. 
 
 It is not right old friends to part, 
 And these we well may call so ; 
 
 Then, Lady, give me back my heart, 
 Or take my body also. 
 
151 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 JENEAS. 
 
 When he, the prince of IHon, as we read, 
 
 Snatch'd from the flames the author of his life. 
 
 Heaven strove to recompense the generous deed — 
 He sav'd his father, and he lost — his wife. 
 
152 
 
 TO JULIA, 
 
 Little Love in his wantonness playing, 
 
 To lodge in my breast was beguil'd ; 
 And Venus, alarm'd at his straying, 
 
 Now offers a kiss for her child. 
 Shall I give up the boy ? — will no other 
 
 With an offer more tempting entice ? 
 Oh thou whom he'd take for his mother, 
 
 Wilt thou buy him at Venus's price ? 
 
153 
 
 TO THE BUTTERFLY. 
 
 Butterfly on wanton wing 
 
 Round and round inconstant roving, 
 Tasting all the sweets of spring, 
 
 Ever changing, ever loving ; 
 Little epicure in bliss. 
 
 Still thou bear'st from flower to flower 
 Brightest smile or sweetest kiss, 
 
 As the trophy of thy power. 
 Who would spurn so rich a trophy ? 
 
 Who such pleasures could decry ? — 
 Had I never met my Sophy 
 
 I'd have been a Butterfly. 
 
154 
 
 FORGET ME NOT. 
 
 " Forget me not, although we part — 
 To think thou wert untrue 
 
 Would break the fond, confiding heart, 
 Which only beats for you." 
 
 " Oh let this dark, foreboding fear, 
 
 This sorrow be dismiss'd ; 
 For see — lest I forget thee, dear, 
 
 I've plac'd thee on my hst." 
 
155 
 
 TO MY LYRE. 
 
 From thee, my lyre — as one who bids adieu 
 To some dear friend he ne'er again shall meet 
 Some friend, whose counsel kind and converse 
 sweet 
 
 Had shed a charm o'er moments as they flew 
 Which else had loiter'd on with leaden feet — 
 
 From thee I part for ever. Thou to me ' 
 Did'st oft in wo thy soothing influence lend ; 
 
 Amid the wilds thou wast society — 
 
 Among the faithless thou wast still a friend. 
 
156 
 
 But the world calls me from thee, and we part, 
 And to another's touch thy chords must swell ; 
 
 No more their tones shall vihrate through my heart. 
 No more my ear must listen to their spell ; — 
 
 Farewell, beloved lyre — for ever fare thee well. 
 
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