Receive our welcome too,-whose every tone.. Springs from our hearts, and fain would win your own. Scenes not unworthy Drury's days of old!— Still may we please, long-long may you preside. XXIV. To Time. TIME!-on whose arbitrary wing The varying hours must flag or fly, Hail thou!-who on my birth bestow'd Those boons-to all that know thee-known; Yet better I sustain thy load, For now I bear the weight alone. I would not one fond heart should share The bitter moments thou hast given; Retards, but never counts the hour. Thy cloud could overcast the light, For then, however drear and dark, My soul was suited to thy sky; One star alone shot forth a spark To prove thee-not Eternity. That beam hath sunk-and now thou art A blank-a thing to count and curse Through each dull tedious trifling part, Which all regret-yet all rehearse. One scene even thou canst not deform The limit of thy sloth or speed When future wanderers bear the storm Which we shall sleep too sound to heed; And I can smile to think how weak Thine efforts shortly shall be shown, When all the vengeance thou canst wreak XXV. Translation of a Romaic Love Song. 1. AH! Love was never yet without The pang, the agony, the doubt, Which rends my heart with ceaseless sigh, While day and night roll darkling by. 2. Without one friend to hear my woe, That Love had arrows, well I knew ; T 3. Birds, yet in freedom, shun the net, Which Love around your haunts hath set; Or circled by his fatal fire, Your hearts shall burn, your hopes expire..、. 4. A bird of free and careless wing Was I, through many a smiling spring; But caught within the subtle snare, I burn, and feebly flutter there, 5. Who ne'er have loved, and loved in vain, Can neither feel, nor pity pain; yin chirar doid W The cold repulse the look askance Forbstof The lightning of Love's angry glance. veb 6. In flattering dreams I deemed thee mine; I feel my passion, and thy power. T 7. My light of life! ah, tell me why That pouting lip, and alter'd eye? My bird of love! my beauteous mate! And art thou chang'd, and canst thou hate 8. Mine eyes like wintry streams o'erflow: A charm, to bid thy lover live. My curdling blood, my madd'ning brain, In silent anguish I sustain ; And still thy heart, without partaking One pang, exults-while mine is breaking. 10.. Pour me the poison; fear not thou! Thou canst not murder more than now: I've lived to curse my natal day, And Love, that thus can lingering slay. T |