At every swell more close I prest
With jealous care that lovely breast;
Of every tender word afraid,
I cast a broader, deeper shade,
And trembled so, I fell between
Two angel-guards by you unseen:
There, pleasures, perils, all forgot,
I clung and fainted: who would not?
Yet certainly, this transport over,
I should, for who would not? recover.
Yes! I was destined to return
And sip anew the crystal urn,
Where with four other sister sprays
I bloom'd away my pleasant days.
But less and less and less again
Each day, hour, moment, is the pain
My little shrivel'd heart endures . .
Now can you say the same for yours?
I torn from her and she from you,
What wiser thing can either do
Than with our joys our fears renounce
And leave the vacant world at once?
When she you fondly love must go,
Your pangs will rise, but mine will cease ;
I never shall awake to woe,
Nor you to happiness or peace."
On the smooth brow and clustering hair
Myrtle and rose! your wreath combine,
The duller olive I would wear,
Its constancy, its peace, be mine.
Along this coast I led the vacant Hours
To the lone sunshine on the uneven strand, And nipt the stubborn grass and juicier flowers With one unconscious inobservant hand,, While crept the other by degrees more near Until it rose the cherisht form around,
And prest it closer, only that the ear
Might lean, and deeper drink some half-heard sound.
Pursuits! alas, I now have none,
But idling where were once pursuits,
Often, all morning quite alone,
I sit upon those twisted roots
Which rise above the grass, and shield
Our harebell, when the churlish year
Catches her coming first afield,
And she looks pale tho' spring is near;
I chase the violets, that would hide
Their little prudish heads away,
And argue with the rills, that chide
When we discover them at play.
No, thou hast never griev'd but I griev'd too; Smiled thou hast often when no smile of mine Could answer it. The sun himself can give But little colour to the desert sands.
Where alders rise up dark and dense
But just behind the wayside fence,
A stone there is in yonder nook
Which once I borrow'd of the brook :
You sate beside me on that stone,
Rather (not much) too wide for one.
Untoward stone! and never quite
(Tho' often very near it) right,
And putting to sore shifts my wit
To roll it out, then steady it,
And then to prove that it must be
Too hard for anyone but me.
Ianthe, haste! ere June declines
We'll write upon it all these lines.
Twenty years hence my eyes may grow
If not quite dim, yet rather so,
Still yours from others they shall know
Twenty years hence.
Twenty years hence tho' it may hap
That I be call'd to take a nap
In a cool cell where thunder-clap
There breathe but o'er my arch of grass
A not too sadly sigh'd Alas,
And I shall catch, ere you can pass,
From heaven descend two gifts alone;
The graceful line's eternal zone
And beauty, that too soon must die.
Exposed and lonely Genius stands,
Like Memnon in the Egyptian sands,
At whom barbarian javelins fly.
For mutual succour Heaven design'd
The lovely form and vigorous mind
To seek each other and unite.
Genius! thy wing shall beat down Hate,
And Beauty tell her fears at Fate
Until her rescuer met her sight.
Remain, ah not in youth alone,
Tho' youth, where you are, long will stay, But when my summer days are gone, And my autumnal haste away.
"Can I be always by your side?"
No; but the hours you can, you must,
Nor rise at Death's approaching stride,
Nor go when dust is gone to dust.
Is it no dream that I am he
Whom one awake all night
Rose ere the earliest birds to see,
And met by dawn's red light;
Who, when the wintry lamps were spent
And all was drear and dark,
Against the rugged pear-tree leant
While ice crackt off the bark;
Who little heeded sleet and blast,
But much the falling snow;
Those in few hours would sure be past,
His traces that might show;
Between whose knees, unseen, unheard,
The honest mastiff came,
Nor fear'd he; no, nor was he fear'd :
Tell me, am I the same?
O come! the same dull stars we'll see,
The same o'er-clouded moon.
O come! and tell me am I he?
O tell me, tell me soon.
Many, well I know, there are
Ready in your joys to share,
And I never blame it) you
Are almost as ready too.
But when comes the darker day
And those friends have dropt away,
Who is there among them all
You would, if you could, recall?
One, who wisely loves and well,
Hears and shares the griefs you tell :
Him you ever call apart
When the springs o'erflow the heart :
For you know that he alone
Wishes they were but his own.
Give, while these he may divide,
Smiles to all the world beside.
Here, ever since you went abroad,
If there be change, no change I see,
I only walk our wonted road,
The road is only walkt by me.
Yes; I forgot; a change there is;
Was it of that you bade me tell?
I catch at times, at times I miss
The sight, the tone, I know so well.
Only two months since you stood here!
Two shortest months! then tell me why
Voices are harsher than they were,
And tears are longer ere they dry.
Silent, you say, I'm grown of late,
Nor yield, as you do, to our fate?
Ah! that alone is truly pain
Of which we never can complain.
I held her hand, the pledge of bliss,
Her hand that trembled and withdrew;
She bent her head before my kiss..
My heart was sure that hers was true. Now I have told her I must part,
She shakes my hand, she bids adieu, Nor shuns the kiss. Alas, my heart! Hers never was the heart for you.
Tell me not things past all belief;
One truth in you I prove;
The flame of anger, bright and brief,
Sharpens the barb of Love.
Little it interests me how
Some insolent usurper now
Divides your narrow chair;
Little heed I whose hand is placed
(No, nor how far) around your waist,
Or paddles in your hair.
A time, a time there may have been
(Ah! and there was) when every scene
Was brightened by your eyes.
And dare you ask what you have done?
My answer, take it, is but one
The weak have taught the wise.
You smiled, you spoke, and I believed,
By every word and smile deceived.
Another man would hope no more;
Nor hope I what I hoped before:
But let not this last wish be vain;
Deceive, deceive me once again!
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