Despair has chill'd the Muse's fire,
And Love bends weeping o'er my lyre;
The Spirit of the dulcet string,
Awakes no more to Rapture's wing;
But sighs with melancholy tone,
"Weep, Sappho, weep! thy Phaon's gone!"
Then, Venus, hasten to bestow
Peace to a soul, where life is woe.
By all the passion of thy breast,
That woo'd Adonis to be blest;
And by those sacred tears that flow'd,
When o'er his pallid form you bow'd;
O pity one who feels like thee,
Whose love, alas! is misery!
-Ev'n the fond breeze that waves my hair,
Moans like an echo to despair;
And sorrow whispers in my breast,
"Die, Sappho, die! for Death is rest!"
Farewell, sweet Star! whose brilliant ray,
Illum'd with joy my early day;
When Rapture, in the Lesbian grove,
Wanton'd with Beauty and with Love,
Thou'rt sinking in the glowing main,
But soon all bright to rise again;
While Hope, that once as thee was bright,
Now trembles on the brink of night!
Come then, all dark and cheerless gloom, No star remains to light the tomb; For gloomy clouds tempestuous driven, Show fury on the front of Heaven;
And loud the wailing spirits cry,
"Victim of Passion! dare to die!"
Yes, I can dare-for o'er my soul,
Still wilder storms of anguish roll;
And welcome are the waves, that steep
My sorrows in eternal sleep!
CATULLUS ON THE DEATH OF HIS BROTHER;
O'ER many a wild, o'er many a wave,
My solitary path has been;
Alas! and is a brother's grave,
My mournful journey's closing scene!
Still I had hop'd one joy to prove,
Tho' fate of many has bereft me;
Had fondly hop'd a Brother's love,
To cheer this drooping heart, was left me.
But hoped in vain,-no more renew'd
Is Love's embrace or Friendship's vow ;-
-The wreath of death, with tears bedew'd,
Is all that I can give thee now!
Farewell, farewell! tho' fate denied
To clasp thee living to my breast;
Still will I kneel thy tomb beside,
And weeping hail thy peaceful rest!
The amiable and interesting author died at Bristol, in 1806, in his 21st year. A selection from his various poetical and prose productions has been formed into a volume, which is on the eve of publication.
TO MRS. STUTEVILLE ISAACSON.
Joy to Victoria! still my Friend
May bliss on all thy paths attend!
What though the loved fraternal door
Shall bound each maiden wish no more,
What though new claims, new duties, rise,
To bind thee with a thousand ties,
Yet in these ties, these duties new,
A thousand blessings spring to view.
And whilst, in all thy virgin charms,
Weeping, thou leav'st a Brother's arms,
Yet, guardian of thy destiny,
Shall Stuteville wipe thy dewy eye,
And hush to rest each pensive sigh.
And well by thee, fair gentle Maid,
Are all his tender cares repaid,
For not thy tuneful skill alone,
Nor brilliant smiles, the feelings own.
Those sounds, within whose magic spell
The soul entranced delights to dwell,
Are but the echoes of a mind
In purest harmony combined.
Those smiles, whose dimpled radiance prove
The force of beauty and of love,
Beam the reflection of a heart
Where Feeling reigns, unspoilt by Art.
That mind, that heart, that humour gay,
They promise many a happy day,
When virtues known and temper tried,
Endear the wife beyond the bride;
Alike in every varying hour
They boast their woe-dispelling pow'r,
Chase ev'ry passing care away,
And brighten Joy's refulgent ray.
Whilst pleasure fills thy gentle breast,
In blessing others doubly blest.
Bertram House,
April 25, 1810.
IMITATED FROM THE DUC DE NIVERNOIS.
DEATH! I do not fear you;
Death! I dare come near you.
The present good I always seize,
The present ill I bear with ease,
I ne'er look back on passing sorrow,
I never tremble for to-morrow-
I ne'er from harmless pleasure fly,
Nor fill the cup of joy too high;
What nature gives I ne'er abuse,
What nature wants I ne'er refuse:
Thus I secure my tranquil státe,
Shun the extremes, and leave the rest to fate.
WILL TIPPLE, who frequently wanted a place,
Applied to a Gentleman, well recommended,
Who finding one failing, was all he could trace,
Engag'd him, the very first time he attended.
I find, quoth the Squire, you are fond of a glass,
So am I, and can readily pardon the crime;
I therefore, unnotic'd, the failing shall pass,-
If you'll promise we sha'n't both be drunk at a time.
To this very fair offer, Will quickly assented,
And, with honour, his promise resolv'd to perform:
But before half a year had elaps'd, he repented,
(A period he'd soberly, weather'd the Storm,)
He therefore gave warning-the cause may amuse ye→→
Quoth the Squire, what reason, Will, do you assign?
Since you came, did I ever of drinking accuse ye ?
Or ever lock up, either spirits or wine?
[teaze ye;
You have had your own way, have had nothing to
Then why can you wish such a service to leave?
Ev'ry servant, I'm sure, is desirous to please ye,
Take my word, if we part, at your folly you'll grieve.
Will replied,-In your service I've had no enjoyment,
For, with truth, I can say that, from March till
October,
The time that I've liv'd in your Honor's employment,
You've been ev'ry day drunk, and I, ev'ry day, sober.
|