Awake, thou mountain form! rise, like a cloud!
Rise, like a cloud of incense, from the earth!
Thou kingly spirit thron'd among the hills,
Thou dread ambassador from Earth to Heav'n-
Great hierarch, tell thou the silent sky,
And tell the stars, and tell the rising sun,
Earth with her thousand voices calls on GOD!
WITH languid heats while nature burns,
Full in the sun the peasant turns
The parch'd, unyielding soil;
Nor feels the fierce, oppressive ray,
Nor heeds the long, laborious day,
So HOPE befriend his toil.—
The prisoner in his dark, damp cell,
So smiling HOPE there deign to dwell,
Forgets impending pain;
And every grief that stung his mind,
And every fear to her resign'd,
Sings to his sounding chain.
ALAS! my friend, how vainly dost thou tell me,
That Reason may tranquillity restore,
And with her soft persuasive voice impel me
To check my sorrows and to sigh no more.
Ah! rather I would ask that lenient power,
Oblivious Time, some solace to impart,
Did I not feel that each revolving hour
Binds him more firmly to my aching heart:
Or I would court the silken smiles of Pleasure,
Athwart my path a cheering beam to throw;
But no! her once lov'd sounds, in sprightly measure,
Seem all discordant to the ear of Woe.
Nor mirth, nor distant space, nor change of season,
My bosom's secret anguish can remove;
All, all are vain,--but chief thy boasted Reason,
For it was she, alas! that bade me love.
His virtues, graces, genius she repeated,
And much I gloried in the heart I won;
Nor did I blush, though easily intreated,
I scarce had seen him ere I lost my own,
For to my soul she brought the sweet conviction,
That he was noble, generous, and refin'd:
Such as bright Fancy oft pourtrays in fiction,
With every charm to fascinate the mind.
Then Reason whisper'd he could ne'er deceive me, Or with feign'd vows of tenderness beguile; And little reck'd I that it e'er would grieve me,
To catch his looks of love, his heavenly smile.
Even now, when adverse fortune bids us sever,
Amid my sighs and tears she brings relief:
She tells me that his heart is mine for ever,
And that his virtues sanctify my grief.
Thus the heart-rending pangs of secret sadness,
Reason has nurtur'd, but can ne'er remove:
No! she must die with grief, or rave in madness,
Ere for a moment I can cease to love!
FROM THE ABBATE BUONDELMONTE.
NDER Friendship's fair disguise,
Love, in smiling frolic, lies;
Or, affecting anger, now,
Furls like Scorn its wrinkled brow;
Nay, with Hatred's sullen mien,
Crafty Love is frequent seen;
Pity's face too oft it wears,
Bath'd in subtle, well-feign'd tears:
But beware Love's wanton wiles,
O! beware his tears, and smiles;
Love in every form, believe,
Still is Love, and will deceive.
FRIEND of my heart! you ask in vain,
I cannot from my much lov'd lyre
Call forth the rapid, glowing strain;
Chill'd is the Muse's genial fire:
Sunk in profound repose she lies,
Lethean slumbers seal her eyes.
For see, no fair scene smiles around,
No warm sun bids the buds unclose;
No wild flowers sweet bedeck the ground,
No stream in tuneful murmurs flows;
No birds gay carol in the trees,
Nor sighs the foliage to the breeze:
But all is cheerless, bleak, and bare,
Save where just peeps the snow-drop's bell;
Chill fogs hang heavy on the air;
The blast raves loudly through the dell; And wet, and numb'd, the toiling swain Unwilling treads the miry plain.
Ask you, how I contrive to spend
The long-protracted gloomy hours,
Since now, no more the Muse, my friend,
Exerts her care-dispelling powers?
List: I will tell you how I strive
Far from my breast dark thoughts to drive:
If not too sternly frowns the day;
From social breakfast, when I rise,
I to the busy city stray,
And ask some politician wise-
What army's beat, what state must fall
Before the hateful anarch, Gaul?
But, much more do I love to meet
The tender friends my heart holds dear:
Delighted, to their converse sweet
I listen with attentive ear;
Till pining Sorrow sleeps awhile,
And Pleasure wakes again a smile.
There, as I gaze on Stella's
Though mute, that eloquently speak ;
Hear Laura's voice like Zephyr's sighs,
And mark the bloom on Mira's cheek;
I think on her, the maid divine,
In whom these varied beauties join!
Should winds and clouds the day deform,
I bid the cheering fire blaze bright,
And, shutting out the driving storm,
From morning dawn till dusky night
I sit, like some sage wight profound,
With countless volumes scatter'd round.
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