Ere half my glass of life is run, Although so young thy heedless sire, 1807. [First published 1830.] FAREWELL! IF EVER FONDEST PRAYER. FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer But waft thy name beyond the sky. Oh! more than tears of blood can tell, When wrung from guilt's expiring eye, Are in that word-Farewell!-Farewell! These lips are mute, these eyes are dry; The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. I only feel-Farewell!-Farewell! 1808. BRIGHT BE THE PLACE OF THY SOUL. BRIGHT be the place of thy soul! In the orbs of the blessed to shine. On earth thou wert all but divine, Light be the turf of thy tomb! May its verdure like emeralds be: There should not be the shadow of gloom In aught that reminds us of thee. Young flowers and an evergreen tree But nor cypress nor yew let us see; WHEN WE TWO PARTED. WHEN we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow— It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. 1808. FEW years have pass'd since thou and I Preserved our feelings long the same. But now, like me, too well thou know'st What trifles oft the heart recall; And those who once have loved the most Too soon forget they loved at all. 8 [This copy of verses, and several of the poems which follow it, originally appeared in a volume published in 1809 by Mr. Hobhouse, under the title of "Imitations and Translations, together with Original Poems," and bearing the modest epigraph-" Nos hæc novimus esse nihil."] And such the change the heart displays, If so, it never shall be mine To mourn the loss of such a heart; The fault was Nature's fault, not thine, Which made thee fickle as thou art. As rolls the ocean's changing tide, It boots not that, together bred, And when we bid adieu to youth, Slaves to the specious world's control, We sigh a long farewell to truth; Ah, joyous season! when the mind Dares all things boldly but to lie; When thought ere spoke is unconfined, And sparkles in the placid eye. Not so in Man's maturer years, With fools in kindred vice the same, Such is the common lot of man: Nor be what all in turn must be? No; for myself, so dark my fate But thou, with spirit frail and light, Alas! whenever folly calls Where parasites and princes meet, (For cherish'd first in royal halls, The welcome vices kindly greet,) Ev'n now thou'rt nightly seen to add To join the vain and court the proud. There dost thou glide from fair to fair, That taint the flowers they scarcely taste. But say, what nymph will prize the flame To flit along from dame to dame, What friend for thee, howe'er inclined, |