Light of this once all darksome spot
Where now their glad course mortals run, First-born of Sirius begot
Upon the focus of the sun
I'll call thee. !for such thy earthly name— What name so high, but what too low must be? Comets, when most they drink the solar flame
Are but faint types and images of thee! Burn madly Fire! o'er earth in ravage run, Then blush for shame more red by fiercer
I saw when from the turtle feast
The thick dark smoke in volumes rose ! I saw the darkness of the mist
Encircle thee, O Nose!
Shorn of thy rays thou shott'st a fearful gleam
(The turtle quiver'd with prophetic fright)
Gloomy and sullen thro' the night of steam :-
So Satan's Nose when Dunstan urg'd to flight
Glowing from gripe of red-hot pincers dread
Athwart the smokes of Hell disastrous twilight shed!
The furies to madness my brain devote―
In robes of ice my body wrap!
On billowy flames of fire I float,
Hear ye, my entrails how they snap?
Some power unseen forbids my lungs to breathe!
What fire-clad meteors round me whizzing fly!
I vitrify thy torrid zone beneath
Proboscis fierce! I am calcin'd! I die!
Thus, like great Pliny, in Vesuvius' fire,
I perish in the blaze while I the blaze admire.
O MUSE who sangest late another's pain,
To griefs domestic turn thy coal-black steed!
With slowest steps thy funeral steed must go,
Nodding his head in all the pomp of woe:
Wide scatter round each dark and deadly weed,
And let the melancholy dirge complain
(While Bats shall shriek and Dogs shall howling run)
The tea-kettle is spoilt and Coleridge is undone !
Your cheerful songs, ye unseen crickets cease!
Let songs of grief your alter'd minds engage!
For he who sang responsive to your lay,
What time the joyous bubbles 'gan to play,
The sooty swain has felt the fire's fierce rage ;-
Yes, he is gone, and all my woes increase;
I heard the Water issuing from the Wound-
No more the Tea shall pour its flagrant steams around!
O Goddess best beloved, delightful Tea!
With thee compar'd what yields the madd'ning vine?
Sweet power! who know'st to spread the calm delight
And the pure joy prolong to midmost night!
Ah! must I all thy varied sweets resign?
Enfolded close in grief thy form I see
No more wilt thou extend thy willing arms,
Receive the fervent Jove and yield him all thy charms! How sink the mighty low by Fate opprest!
Perhaps, O Kettle! thou by scornful toe
Rude urg'd t' ignoble place with plaintive din,
May'st rust obscure midst heaps of vulgar tin;-
As if no joy had ever seiz'd my breast
When from thy spout the streams did arching fly,--
As if infus'd thou ne'er hadst known t' inspire
All the warm raptures of poetic fire!
But hark! or do I fancy the glad voice—
"What tho' the swain did wondrous charms disclose
(Not such did Memnon's sister sable drest)
Take these bright arms with royal face imprest,
A better Kettle shall thy soul rejoice,
And with Oblivion's wings o'erspread thy woes!"
Thus Fairy Hope can soothe distress and toil;
On empty Trivets she bids fancied Kettles boil!
A FAREWELL ODE ON QUITTING SCHOOL FOR JESUS COLLEGE
WHERE graced with many a classic spoil
Cam rolls his reverend stream along,
I haste to urge the learned toil
That sternly chides my love-lorn
Ah me! too mindful of the days
Illumed by Passion's orient rays,
When peace, and Cheerfulness, and Health
Enriched me with the best of wealth.
Ah fair Delights! that o'er my soul
On Memory's wing, like shadows fly!
Ah Flowers! which Joy from Eden stole
While Innocence stood smiling by!-
But cease, fond Heart! this bootless moan:
Those Hours on rapid Pinions flown
Shall yet return, by Absence crowned,
And scatter livelier roses round.
The Sun who ne'er remits his fires
On needless eyes may pour the day :
The Moon, that oft from Heaven retires,
Endears her renovated ray.
What though she leaves the sky unblest
To mourn awhile in murky vest?
When she relumes her lovely Light,
We bless the Wanderer of the Night.
FAREWELL parental scenes! a sad farewell!
To you my grateful heart still fondly clings,
Tho' fluttering round on Fancy's burnish'd wings
Her tales of future Joy Hope loves to tell.
Adieu, adieu! ye much lov'd cloisters pale!
Ah! would those happy days return again,
When 'neath your arches, free from every stain,
I heard of guilt and wonder'd at the tale!
Dear haunts! where oft my simple lays I sang,
Listening meanwhile the echoings of my feet,
Lingering I quit you, with as great a pang,
As when erewhile, my weeping childhood, torn
By early sorrow from my native seat,
Mingled its tears with hers-my widow'd Parent lorn.
THO' no bold flights to thee belong;
And tho' thy lays with conscious fear,
Shrink from Judgment's eye severe,
Yet much I thank thee, Spirit of my song!
For, lovely Muse! thy sweet employ
Exalts my soul, refines my breast,
Gives each pure pleasure keener zest,
And softens sorrow into pensive Joy.
From thee I learn'd the wish to bless,
From thee to commune with my heart;
From thee, dear Muse! the gayer part,
To laugh with Pity at the crowds, that press
Where Fashion flaunts her robes by Folly spun,
Whose hues gay varying wanton in the sun.
VIRTUES and Woes alike too great for man
In the soft tale oft claim the useless sigh;
For vain the attempt to realize the plan,
On folly's wings must imitation fly.
With other aim has Fielding here display'd
Each social duty and each social care ;
With just yet vivid coloring portray'd
What every wife should be, what many are.
And sure the Parent of a race so sweet
With double pleasure on the page shall dwell,
Each scene with sympathizing breast shall meet,
While Reason still with smiles delights to tell
Maternal hope, that her lov'd Progeny
In all but Sorrows shall Amelias be!!
THAT HIS ONLY SISTER'S DEATH WAS INEVITABLE.
THE tear which mourn'd a brother's fate scarce dry-.
Pain after pain, and woe succeeding woe—
Is my heart destin'd for another blow?
O my sweet sister! and must thou too die?
Ah! how has Disappointment pour'd the tear
O'er infant Hope destroy'd by early frost!
How are ye gone, whom most my soul held dear!
Scarce had I lov'd you, ere I mourn'd you lost;
Say, is this hollow eye-this heartless pain
Fated to rove thro' Life's wide cheerless plain-
Nor father, brother, sister meets its ken-
My woes, my joys unshar'd! Ah! long ere then
On me thy icy dart, stern Death, be prov'd ;—
Better to die, than live and not be lov'd!
AFFECTIONATELY WELCOMED BY A SISTER
I TOO a sister had! too cruel Death!
How sad remembrance bids my bosom heave!
Tranquil her soul, as sleeping Infant's breath;
Meek were her manners as a vernal Eve.
Knowledge, that frequent lifts the bloated mind,
Gave her the treasure of a lowly breast,
And Wit to venom'd Malice oft assign'd,
Dwelt in her bosom in a Turtle's nest.
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