And now, though flying o'er my nead Is watered by my tears;— Still Hope, in many a gloomy hour, But Hope, farewell!-thy visions bright No: let me turn-it is enough- And pilgrim-like, with staff and shell, And clothed in habit gray, I bid the smiling past farewell, But wherefore should my courage fail, I see a little cheerful band; I hear their songs resound; Onward they travel, hand in hand; The sterile plain, the desert drear, And kindly would they welcome me: And brighter skies beyond.— O then, though fainting and distressed There is a home, there is a rest, There is a heaven in view. September 23, 1809. TO A BROTHER, ON HIS BIRTH-DAY. DEAR brother, while weaving your birth-day address, For what the true feeling of love can express, The tear, should it fall on the track of my pen, The smile give me credit till Christmas, for then And why should I try in a song to enclose Away with the Muse, when the heart overflows, A sister's affection, the hope and the fear When a brother sets out on his stormy career, Then why any more of such rhyming as this, Ah why, when a smile, and a tear, and a kiss, TO MISS E. F. ON HER BIRTH-DAY. HAIL, dearest Eliza! and hail to the morn If, true to affection, some child of the grove How gladly I'd fly, with the swiftness of love, Exchanging my song for a smile! Though if any mortal those heavenly things With beings angelic might share, Eliza had surely been furnished with wings, To bear her light form on the air. But seeing the Fates, to our friendship averse,. Such intercourse ever delay, Permit me, my love, in affectionate verse, To greet the return of the day.. And since I no train of kind genii can boast, I send a rude sprite, in the form of the post, Accept then, my love, from my heart as they flow, Of wishes the kindest and best; For thousand sweet pleasures I fain would bestow, To find an abode in your breast. Yet what are the blessings that never have graced, Not virtue, or beauty, refinement, or taste, But sorrow too often that bosom invites Yet still she can smile and rejoice on her way! They cause the fair casket to fade and decay, Till, freed from a dwelling of darkness and wo, This gem from its prison shall rise, All brilliant with glory for ever to glow, A sun in unchangeable skies. Then, might my dim star with a tremulous ray That friendship shall flourish which lightens the way January 15, 1808. My harp, though out of tune so long, May yield a simple strain: I will not aim at lofty song, Well knowing that were vain. And will you not the tribute own: Be soothing to your ear? And may I hope the unpolished thought Not born Parnassus' heights to hail, She shuns the lofty place; She never soared on Fancy's wing, Nor knew she e'er to touch a string, Will you the humble traveller scorn, Behold! all trembling and forlorn, |