Hadst thou been coarse of form and mien, Or base of mind and heart, Small comfort it perchance had been To know thee as thou art; Then she and I might both have grieved Before one disenchanting glance Of thy long look'd for countenance. IV. But we have seen thee-seen the mind Have follow'd thee through thought's wide range With many a cordial interchange Of mutual sympathy; And seen thee tread the paths of life The friend, the mother, and the wife. V. Henceforth there dwells in either heart Not shaped by fancy's treacherous art, No frail creation of the thought, In some fantastic mood; But one whose real traits express Distinct and breathing loveliness. VI. Thanks for thy visit; thanks for all The frank good will, the generous love, The humour gay, the sportive mirth, The laugh that gladdens home and hearth. VII. Thanks for all these: we know not how Their worth is prized elsewhere; But here our grateful hearts avow Thy substitute, when thou art gone, VIII. And thou-when thou once more shalt see Thy home in hot Bengal, Shall no remembrance cleave to thee The friends whom here we love so well, The quiet haunts in which we dwell, L IX. Take with thee, Marion, thoughts like these To cheer thy Indian home, Tell them that, come when come they will, X. Nor worthless, nor by them unfelt Thy voice a breeze from happier climes, XI. There's one who soothed us here erewhile, With the sweet sunshine of her smile- Her gentle heart 'twill surely stir, To think that here thou'st roam'd like her, And lain where she hath lain; Hast track'd the paths her footsteps press'd, And shared, like her, our household rest. XII. High intercourse methinks should be Than those of eastern monarchs are. XIII. We know not if in after years We e'er may meet again; Nor whether, then, in smiles or tears, But this we know, that whatsoe'er XIV. Farewell! mayst thou in yon dark land Stern duty's arduous course pursue, By faith's all-conquering might; TO SYLVIA. I. MAIDEN, on thy vaunted beauty II. Haply childhood's visions told thee He was mild, and bland, and fair; Would with soft embrace enfold thee From the touch of pain and care; Strew thy path with brightest flowers, Twine above thee myrtle bowers. III. Such, in Eden's blissful valleys, Love perchance might still have been, Had not hell's triumphant malice Marr'd his sweetness, dimm'd his sheen; Such doth Fancy paint him still To the longing heart and will. IV. Tell us, maiden, hast thou found him Thus delicious, thus divine? Doth such witchery breathe around him? Is his spirit so benign? |