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But when the foe returns,
Again the hero burns ;
The clang of mingling arms
Is then the sound that charms, And brazen notes of war, that stirring trumpets pour;Then comes the Harp, when the combat is over
When heroes are resting, and Joy is in bloomWhen laurels hang loose from the brow of the lover,
And Cupid makes wings of the warrior's plume.
Light went the harp when the War-God, reclining,
Lay lull'd on the white arm of Beauty to rest, When round his rich armour the myrtle hung twining, And flights of young doves made his helmet their nest.
But, when the battle came,
The hero's eye breath'd flame : Soon from his neck the white arm was flung ;
While, to his wak’ning ear,
No other sounds were dear But brazen notes of war, by thousand trumpets sung. But then came the light harp, when danger was ended,
And beauty once more luli'd the War-God to rest ; When tresses of gold with his laurels lay blended,
And flights of young doves made his helmet their nest.
'Twas a new feeling something more Than we had dared to own before,
Which then we hid not—which then we hid not; We saw it in each other's eye, And wish'd, in every half-breath'd sigh,
To speak, but did not-to speak, but did not.
She felt my lips' impassioned touch ; 'Twas the first time I dared so much,
And yet she chid not-and yet she chid not; But whisper'd o'er my burning brow, • Oh! do you doubt I love you now?'
Sweet soul! I did not-sweet soul! I did not.
Warmly I felt her bosom thrill,
Though gently bid not-though gently bid not;
And yet who did not-and yet who did not.
IMITATION OF CATULLUS.
Miser Catulle, desinas ineptire, etc.
CEASE the sighing fool to play ;
A REFLECTION AT SEA.
SEE how, beneath the moonbeam's smile,
Yon little billow heaves its breast, And foams and sparkles for awhile,
And murmuring then subsides to rest.
Thus man, the sport of bliss and care,
Rises on Time's eventful sea ;
Thus melts into eternity!
IF I swear by that eye, you'll allow
Its look is so shifting and new,
The very next glance would undo!
Such different arrows have got,
Such as yours, may be off in a shot !
Though each moment the treasure renews,
I may kiss off the oath when I choose !
The dew and the oath that are there !
To lose them so sweetly in air !
Nor fancy my faith is a feather;
And they both must be broken together!
CUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY JULIA ON THE DEATH OF HER BROTH.
Though sorrow long has worn my heart ;
Though every day I've counted o'er
To wounds that rankled fresh before;
Of many a link by nature tied ;
Though friends betrayed, and foes belied ;
After the sunset of delight;
We scarce can think it heralds night!
I hoped that, after all its strife,
My weary heart at length should rest, And, fainting from the waves of life,
Find harbour in a brother's breast. That brother's breast was warm with truth,
Was bright with honour's purest ray; He was the dearest, gentlest youth
Oh ! why then was he torn away?
To calm his Julia's every woe;
And not have caused those tears to flow. We saw his youthful soul expand
In blooms of genius, nursed by taste; While Science, with a fostering hand,
Upon his brow her chaplet placed. We saw his gradual opening mind
Enriched by all the graces dear; Enlightened, social, and refined,
In friendship firm, in love sincere. Such was the youth we loved so well;
Such were the hopes that fate devied We loved, but, ah! we could not tell
How deep, how dearly, till he died ! Close as the fondest links could strain,
Twined with my very heart he grew; And by that fate which breaks the chain,
The heart is almost broken too!
SWEETEST love! I'll not forget thee ;
Time shall only teach my heart,
And repose our hearts at last :
Farewell, Bessy !
Mayn't be always sought in vain ;
Still I feel my heart is breaking,
When I think I stray from thee, Round the world that quiet seeking, Which I fear is not for me !
Farewell, Bessy !
Calm to peace thy lover's bosom
Can it, dearest! must it be?
COME tell me where the maid is found
Whose heart can love without deceit, And I will range the world around,
To sigh one moment at her feet.
Oh! tell me where's her sainted home,
What air receives her blessed sigh ; A pilgrimage of years I'll roam
To catch one sparkle of her eye! And, if her cheek be rosy bright,
While truth within her bosom lies, I'll gaze upon her, morn and night,
Till my heart leave me through my eyes ! Show me on earth a thing so rare,
I'll own all miracles are true;
Oh! 'tis the utenost Heaven can do !
WITH all my soul, then, let us part,
Since both are anxious to be free; And I will send you home your heart,
If you will send back mine to me. We've had some happy hours together,
But joy must often change its wing; And spring would be but gloomy weather,
If we had nothing else but spring. 'Tis not that I expect to find
A more devoted, fond, and true one, With rosier cheek or sweeter mind
Enough for me that she's a new one.