"His truth I deem'd so great, my foolish heart Bore in his griefs a more than equal part; " Did he but sigh, or feel the slightest pain, My aching bosom throbb'd in every vein; His will was mine; each moment to employ In pleasing him, became my only joy: "The voice of heav'n alone could then have mov'd My mind to censure what his choice approv'd. "Thus smiling love his dearest blessings shed, And two short years in mutual transport fied; "I vainly thought the flatt'ring scene would last: " As well the torments, as delights of love. My lover feign'd that he must leave his home, "Constrain'd by fate, in foreign realms to roam: "You need not ask what terrors seiz'd my heart, But guess those feelings words can ne'er impart: "Alas! the sport of cruel destiny, 4 " I felt the pangs of death, though yet forbid to die. "At length, one fatal day he took his leave; "While I, who heard him speak, and saw him grieve "At his departure, thought his tears as true "As those which almost chok'd my last adieu! "But since his honour summon'd him away, " And Reason told me, that he must obey "Her potent call; that sorrow was in vain, " And he wou'd soon review his home again; " I strove my swelling anguish to conceal, " And feign'd a courage which I did not feel, "And fondly press'd his hand, repeating o'er "Those vows of truth I oft had sworn before. "What he reply'd I shall not now rehearse; " In speech none better, or in action worse. "So forth he flew, and hasten'd on his way, "Till weariness, or pleasure, bade him stay His rapid course; for sure he bore in anind, "The proverb, ' every creature loves its kind.' "Thus men have written, men too prone to range, And vary merely for the love of change. 66 As silly birds, with care in cages bred, Lodg'd on soft down, with choicest viands fed, " Which seem your proffer'd kindness to disdain, "While sugar, bread, and milk, allure in vain; "If they by chance espy an open door, "O'erturn their cup upon the sanded floor, "Leave their warm cage, and hasten to the wood, "His love among the commoners of air; With that, again she rais'd her mournful cries, The mournful damsels gath'ring round, survey'd U2 The palace gate; prepar'd to plaister o'er } LINES Addressed to his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, Patron of the Literary Fund. BY CHARLES MARSH, ESQ. RECITED AT THE MEETING OF THE SIETY AT GREENWICH, JUNE 21, 1804. GAY child of ease! on whose protected head Say, hast thou wept when to thy musing eye And hast thou mourn'd, when sunk and fall'n around The broken arch ignobly strew'd the ground; Yet shall thy heart no gentle sorrow find The aspiring soul, by Want's cold hand destroy'd, Nurs'd by the Muse, who rock'd him to repose, And sweetly sang to rest his cradled woes, Where dipt in heaven the gem of Fancy shines; "Go let thy wandering eyes the scenes explore Where Nature spreads for man her boundless store; Range o'er the circle, where with cheerful hue "The green earth bursts rejoicing on thy view; Fresh blooming fields where the soft Zephyr flings " A balmy incense from his dewy wings; "The hoary head-land's dim retired height, "The distant promontory's fading light; "The last pale beam, when Nature sinks to rest, "That slowly lingers on the ocean's breast. " While to thy vision Fancy's art supplies "A world of tints' unseen of vulgar eyes.' "Charm'd by thy shell, mute crowds shall gather round, "And smile and tremble at the alternate sound, "As thro' each maze thy winding numbers rove, "Now sing the bliss, and now the pangs of love, Or, as thy big inspirings wildly roll, "A martial tempest to the fevered soul." |