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If some fond feeling maid like thee,
Though Fate, my girl, may bid us part,
Our souls it cannot, shall not, sever;. The heart will seek its kindred heart,
And cling to it as close as ever. But must we, must we part indeed ?
Is all our dream of rapture over ?
To leave so dear, so fond a lover ?
Perhaps she weeps our blisses fleeting :
If Julia's heart like mine is beating ? I oft have loved the brilliant glow
Of rapture in her blue eye streamingBut can the bosom bleed with woe,
While joy is in the glances beaming ? No, no !- Yet, love, I will not chide,
Although your heart were fond of roving : Nor that, nor all the world beside,
Could keep your faithful boy from loving. You'll soon be distant from his eye,
And, with you, all that's worth possessing. Oh! then it will be sweet to die,
When life has lost its only blessing !
And do I then wonder that Julia deceives me,
When surely there's nothing in nature more common? She vows to be true, and while vowing she leaves me
But could I expect any more from a woman? Oh, woman ! your heart is a pitiful treasure ;
And Mahomet's doctrine was not too severe, When he thought you were only materials of pleasure,
And reason and thinking were out of your sphere. By your heart, when the fond sighing lover can win it,
He thinks that an age of anxiety's paid ; But, oh! while he's blest, let him die on the minute
If he live but a day, he'll be surely betrayed,
SWEET seducer! blandly smiling ;
Why that little wanton blushing,
Grow to my lip, thou sacred kiss,
On which my soul's beloved swore
When she would mock my hopes no more;
In sighs at morn, and dreams at night,
Till thou’rt absolved by rapture's rite.
Sweet hours that are to make me blest,
Oh ! fly, like breezes, to the goal,
And let my love, y more than soul, Come panting to this fevered breast; And while in every glance I drink
The rich o'erflowings of her mind, Oh ! let her all impassioned sink,
In sweet abandonment resigned Blushing for all our struggles past, And murmuring, 'I am thine at last !'
A NIGHT THOUGHT.
Obscures yon bashful light,
Along the waste of night!
Obscure with malice keen
To live and die unseen!
Sic juvat perire,
How heavenly soft their slumbers lie!
To those who weep and long to die ! Saw you the soft and grassy bed,
Where flowerets deck the green earth's breast ? 'Tis there I wish to lay my head,
'Tis there I wish to sleep at rest ! Oh ! let not tears embalm my tomb,
None but the dews by twilight given ! Oh! let not sighs disturb the gloom,
None but the whispering winds of Heaven !
And still "Good night!' my Rosa say—
And puts his little bark to sea,
Consigns his simple heart to thee :
And sadly may the bark be tossed ;
And then the wretched heart is lost !
Oh! why should the girl of my soul be in tears
At a meeting of rapture like this,
Have been paid by a moment of bliss ?
Which dwells on her memory yet?
From the warmth of the sun that has set ?
That smile which is loveliest then;
Thou shalt weep them again and again !
TO ROS A.
WRITTEN DURING ILLNESS.
The wisest soul, by anguish torn,
Will soon unlearn the lore it knew;
The gem within will tarnish too.
But love's an essence of the soul,
Which sinks not with this chain of clay-
Of withering pain or pale decay.
Dissolves the spirit's mortal ties,
And makes it purer for the skies !
My soul shall leave this orb of men,
Shall be its best of blisses then !
Some airy genius, child of time,
And tracked it through its path sublime;
Shalt through thy mortal orbit stray ;
Shall linger round thy wandering way.
And brighten in the solar gem;
Nor envy worlds of suns to them !
To mingle with a mortal frame,
Hide, hide from Heaven the unholy flame.
And when that breath at length is free;
And mingle to eternity.
WRITTEN IN THE BLANK LEAF OF A LADY'S