« AnteriorContinuar »
My Muse hath long with silence dwelt,
My harp been long unstrung;
Nor sing as I have sung.
My heart's no longer young;
ii. Yet, Mary, ere I cease to float
For aye on Fancy's sea,
With fairy gifts for thee:
Unworthy though it be
"Tis not from age alone:—
Ere yet my youth was flown:
Of one who nursed my fancy well,
And rear'd it with his own,
My heart hath found a resting-place
Since then, at love's sweet shrine; And he, now freed from grief's embrace,
Shall soon repose in thine.—
Look back in life's decline,
That I've beheld thy face; Have seen thee in thy smiles and tears,
Thy goodness and thy grace; That I shall know, whate'er betide, How lovely and how loved a bride
My friend's fond arms embrace; What beauty, worth, and talent shed Their brightness on his nuptial bed.
And though beneath remoter skies
Our lot must now be cast;
Round each must gather fast;
Of future hours which ye and we
Together shall have past;
Yet still, in feeling's late decline,
When Hope and Fancy flee,
A bond of love must be:
I trust no time shall see
Plymouth, September 1, 1827.
"Forget thee?"—If to dream by night, and muse
on thee by day;
If all the worship,deep and wild, a poet's heart can pay, If prayers in absence, breathed for thee to Heaven's
protecting power, If winged thoughts that flit to thee—a thousand in
If busy Fancy blending thee with all my future lot,— If thisthoucall'st" forgetting," thou,indeed shaltbe
"Forget thee ?"—Bid the forest-birds forget their sweetest tune;
"Forget thee ?"—Bid the sea forget to swell beneath the moon;
Bid the thirsty flowers forget to drink the eve's refreshing dew;
Thyself forget thine " own dear land," and its "mountains wild and blue;"
Forget each old familiar face, each long remember'd spot;—
When these things are forgot by thee, then thou shall be forgot!
Keep, if thou wilt, thy maiden peace, still calm and
fancy-free: For, God forbid! thy gladsome heart should grow
less glad for me; Yet, while that heart is still unwon, oh,bidnot mine
to rove, But let it nurse its humble faith, and uncomplaining
love; Ifthese, preserved forpatient years, at last avail me
not, Forget me then;—but ne'er believe that thou can'st
EPITAPH IN WINDSOR CHURCH-YARD.
FEBRUARY 20, 1828.
Bright, tho' brief, were thy days on earth,
And we blessed thee for the sinless mirth
Darkly the cloud of sickness came
And we saw thy beauty smitten; And our weak hearts droop'd,tho' we knew thy name
In the Book of Life was written.
But oh! as we knelt by thy dying bed
And pray'd in vain to save thee,
And the strength His Spirit gave thee.
Sadly we turn from thy resting-place
To the cold, hard world about us,
Which thou hast won without us.
And we raise to Heaven our tearful eyes,
And feel thou watchest o'er us, • And shinest like a star from thine own bright skies
On the path thou hast trod before us.