For well I know, that such had been
Thy gentle care for him, who now
Unmourn'd shall quit this mortal scene,
Where none regarded him, but thou:
And, Oh! I feel in that was given

A blessing never meant for me;
Thou wert too like a dream of Heaven,
For earthly Love to merit thee.

March 14th, 1812.

[This poem and the following were written some years ago.]



FEw years have pass'd since thou and I
Were firmest friends, at least in name,
And childhood's gay sincerity
Preserved our feelings long the same.

But now,


like me, too well thou know'st

What trifles oft the heart recall;

And those who once have loved the most
Too soon forget they loved at all.


And such the change the heart displays,
So frail is early friendship's reign,
A month's brief lapse, perhaps a day's,
Will view thy mind estranged again.



If so, it never shall be mine

To mourn the loss of such a heart; The fault was Nature's fault, not thine, Which made thee fickle as thou art


As rolls the ocean's changing tide,
So human feelings ebb and flow;
And who would in a breast confide
Where stormy passions ever glow?


It boots not, that together bred,
Our childish days were days of joy;
My spring of life has quickly fled;
Thou, too, hast ceased to be a boy.


And when we bid adieu to youth,
Slaves to the specious world's control,
We sigh a long farewell to truth;
That world corrupts the noblest soul,


Ah, joyous season! when the mind
Dares all things boldly but to lie;
When thought, ere spoke, is unconfined,
And sparkles in the placid eye.


Not so in Man's maturer years,
When Man himself is but a tool;

When interest sways our hopes and fears,
And all must love and hate by rule.


With fools in kindred vice the same,

We learn at length our faults to blend, And those, and those alone may claim

The prostituted name of friend.


Such is the common lot of man:
Can we then 'scape from folly free?
Can we reverse the general plan,
Nor be what all in turn must be?


No, for myself, so dark my fate

Through every turn of life hath been; Man and the world I so much hate, I care not when I quit the scene.


But thou, with spirit frail and light,
Wilt shine awhile and pass away;
As glow-worms sparkle through the night,
But dare not stand the test of day.

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Alas! whenever Folly calls

Where parasites and princes meet, (For cherish'd first in royal halls, The welcome vices kindly greet.)


Ev'n now thou'rt nightly seen to add
One insect to the fluttering crowd;
And still thy trifling heart is glad,

To join the vain, and court the proud.


There dost thou glide from fair to fair,
Still simpering on with eager haste,
As flies along the gay parterre,

That taint the flowers they scarcely taste.


But say, what nymph will prize the flame
Which seems, as marshy vapours move,

To flit along from dame to dame,
An ignis fatuus gleam of love?


What friend for thee, howe'er inclined,
Will deign to own a kindred care?
Who will debase his manly mind,

For friendship every fool may share?


In time forbear; amidst the throng
No more so base a thing be seen;
No more so idly pass along:

Be something, any thing, but-mean.



WELL! thou art happy, and I feel
That I should thus be happy too;
For still my heart regards thy weal
Warmly, as it was wont to do.


Thy husband's blest—and 'twill impart
Some pangs to view his happier lot:

But let them pass-Oh! how my heart
Would hate him, if he loved thee not!


When late I saw thy favourite child,

I thought my jealous heart would break; But when th' unconscious infant smiled, I kiss'd it, for its mother's sake.


I kiss'd it, and repress'd my sighs
Its father in its face to see;
But then it had its mother's eyes,
And they were all to love and me.


Mary, adieu! I must away;

While thou art blest I'll not repine; But near thee I can never stay;

My heart would soon again be thine.


I deem'd that time, I deem'd that pride
Had quench'd at length my boyish flame;
Nor knew, till seated by thy side,

My heart in all, save hope, the same.


Yet was I calm: I knew the time

My breast would thrill before thy look; But now to tremble were a crimeWe met, and not a nerve was shook.


I saw thee gaze upon my face,

Yet meet with no confusion there;

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