TO A YOUNG LADY, WHO STARTED WITH DISGUST AT THE SIGHT OF A HUMAN SKULL. NAY, dearest! turn not thus away, Nor shade those soft and deep-blue eyes; Yon fearful emblem of decay Should teach my Rosa to be wise. That ghastly head thou canst not brook Perchance it glitter'd in the dance, Has rous'd, like thine, the poet's lay. But now, a void and nauseous cell, "Twill house the reptile and its brood; And there, where life was wont to dwell, Nay, frown not at my idle song, 1 Thus, Rosa! to thy guileless mind A moral in yon head is shown; For, musing on its fate, thou'lt find A sad memento of thine own. THE MAID OF WATERLOO. I STOOD upon the scene of death, Where war had roll'd its fiery tide; And silently I held my breath, Where chiefs had bled, and heroes died; And mus'd on those who slept around, Heap'd in unconsecrated ground. 'Twas then, my beautiful Susette! I first beheld thy beaming face; First gaz'd upon thine eye of jet, Thine airy step, and nameless grace; While decking with each flowery wreath The graves of those who slept beneath. I deem'd not then that aught had power My soul from gloomier thoughts to wile; I deem'd not, in that silent hour, It e'en could bend to beauty's smile; But who could mark that bright black eye, And yet, when I am far away, And 'twixt us rolls the angry main; Thou still with fairy feet wilt stray, To gather wild flowers from the plain; And still wilt pause—as if thy tread Yet if the forms which rest around Could rouse them from their dreamless sleep; If each young heart once more could bound, To mark the eyes that o'er him weep; They'd deem thou wert an angel given To point the way from earth to heaven. |