TO A LADY. WITH FALCONER'S "SHIPWRECK." AH! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams, In arched groves, the youthful poet's choice; Nor while half-listening, mid delicious dreams, To harp and song from lady's hand and voice; Nor yet while gazing in sublimer mood, On cliff, or cataract, in Alpine dell; Nor in dim cave with bladdery sea-weed strewed, Framing wild fancies to the ocean's swell; Our sea-bard sang this song! which still he sings, And sings for thee, sweet friend! Hark, Pity, hark! Now mounts, now totters on the tempest's wings, Now groans, and shivers the replunging bark! 66 Cling to the shrouds!" In vain! The breakers roar Death shrieks! With two alone of all his clan Forlorn the poet paced the Grecian shore, No classic roamer, but a ship-wreck'd man! Say then, what muse inspired these genial strains, And lit his spirit to so bright a flame? The elevating thought of suffered pains, Which gentle hearts shall mourn; but chief, the name Of gratitude! remembrances of friend, Or absent or no more! shades of the Past, Which Love makes substance! Hence to thee I send, O dear as long as life and memory last! I send with deep regards of heart and head, Sweet maid, for friendship formed! this work to thee: And thou, the while thou canst not choose but shed A tear for Falconer, wilt remember me. TO A YOUNG LADY ON HER RECOVERY FROM A FEVER. WHY need I say, Louisa dear! WHY How glad I am to see you here, A lovely convalescent; Risen from the bed of pain and fear, The sunny showers, the dappled sky, Believe me, while in bed you lay, You made us grow devouter! and seemed to say, How can we do without her? Besides, wnat vexed us worse, we knew, Why beats it thus? Through yonder coppice-wood The night draws on-such ways are hard to hit- Sandoval. Did you not say you wooed her? Earl Henry. Her whom I dared not woo! Sandoval. One whom you loved not! Earl Henry. Once I loved And wooed, perchance, Oh! I were most base Not loving Oropeza. True, I wooed her, Of ancient feuds, poured curses on my head, But thou art stern, and with unkindly countenance Art inly reasoning whilst thou listenest to me. Sandoval. Anxiously, Henry! reasoning anxiously. But Oropeza Earl Henry. Blessings gather round her! And to that covert by a silent stream, Fragrant with flowering trees-I well remember Their snow-white blossoms made-thither she led me, To that sweet bower! Then Oropeza trembled― I have small memory of aught but pleasure. We were all life, each atom of our frames With the faint voice of one who, having spoken, That solemn vow, a whisper scarcely heard, Sandoval [with a sarcastic smile]. No other than as eastern sages paint, The God, who floats upon a lotos leaf, Earl Henry. Ah! was that bliss Feared as an alien, and too vast for man? For suddenly, impatient of its silence, Did Oropeza, starting, grasp my forehead. I caught her arms; the veins were swelling on them. Through the dark bower she sent a hollow voice :- I swore to her, that were she red with guilt, [Earl Henry retires into the wood.] |