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And lose within so sweet a tomb
The trembling messenger of bliss !
That it again could ravished be;
His life and soul have fled to thee!
TO A LADY.
ON HER SINGING.
Those soothing thoughts of heavenly love
When listening to the spheres above !
I wish to sigh my latest breath,
And thou shalt sing me into death!
That smile of heavenly softness play,
So oft has stolen my mind away;
That comes to charm me into bliss :
If death were half so sweet as this?
On Cupid's burning shrine :
And placed it near to mine.
Like ice before the sun ;
And mingled into one !
WRITTEN IN A COMMON-PLACE BOOK,
CALLED “THE BOOK OF FOLLIES ;"
TO THE BOOK OF FOLLIES.
Of follies scribbled o'er and o'er,
And chilly was the midnight gloom,
Sweet maid ! it was her Lindor's tomb}
At morn it glittered in the ray!
Who saw this bright, this frozen gem
And huing it on her diadem !
TO JULIA, WEEPING.
If real woe disturbs your peace,
And I will bid your weeping cease.
But if with Fancy's visioned fears,
With dreams of woe, your bosom thrill, You look so lovely in your tears
That I must bid you drop them still !
Steal trembling from mine eye?
Or caught the murmured sigh?
Nor fixed on you alone ?
A heart so much your own?
Devoutly, warmly true ;
One long, long thought of you.
If still my truth you'll try;
I'll bless your name, and die !
And did you not mark the paly form
And sung a ghostly dirge in the storm? Was it a wailing bird of the gloom,
Which shrieks on the house of woe all night? Or a shivering fiend that flew to a tomb,
To howl and to feed till the glance of light? 'Twas not the death-bird's cry from the wood,
Nor shivering fiend that hung in the blast; 'Twas the shade of Helderic- man of blood
It screams for the guilt of days that are past ! See! how the red, red lightning strays,
And scares the gliding ghosts of the heath! Now on the leafless yew it plays,
Where hangs the shield of this son of death! That shield is blushing with murderous stains;
Long has it hung from the cold yew's spray; It is blown by storms and washed by rains,
But neither can take the blood away!
Oft by that yew, on the blasted field,
Demons dance to the red moon's light;
Sings to the raving spirit of night!
ELEGIAC STANZAS, SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY JULIA, ON THE DEATH OF HER BROTHER.
THOUGH sorrow long has worn my heart;
Though every day I've counted o'er
To wounds that rankled fresh before ;
Of many a link by nature tied;
Though friends betrayed, and foes belied ;
After the sunset of delight;
We scarce can think it heralds night!
My weary heart at length should rest.
Find harbour in a brother's breast.
Was bright with honour's purest ray;
Oh! why then was he torn away?
To calm his Julia's every woe;
And not have caused those tears to flow.
In blooms of genius, nursed by taste;
Upon his brow her chaplet placed.
Enriched by all the graces dear;
In friendship firm, in love sincere.
Such were the hopes that fate denied-
How deep, how dearly, till he died !
Close as the fondest links could strain,
Twined with my very heart he grew; And by that fate which breaks the chain,
The heart is almost broken too!
A NIGHT THOUGHT.
Obscures yon bashful light,
Along the waste of night!
Obscure with malice keen
To live and die unseen!
Sic juvat perire.
How heavenly soft their slumbers lie!
To those who weep and long to die ! Saw you the soft and grassy bed,
Where flowerets deck the green earth's breast? 'Tis there I wish to lay my head,
'Tis there I wish to sleep at rest ! Oh! let not tears embalm my tomb,
None but the dews by twilight given ! Oh ! let not sighs disturb the gloom,
None but the whispering winds of heaven!