Page images
PDF
EPUB
[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

Hours of Edleness.

WRITTEN FROM 1802 TO 1807.

ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY,1 COUSIN TO THE AUTHOR, AND VERY DEAR HIM.2

ΤΟ

HUSH'D are the winds, and still the evening gloom,
Not e'en a zephyr wanders through the grove,
Whilst I return, to view my Margaret's tomb,
And scatter flowers on the dust I love.

Within this narrow cell reclines her clay,

That clay where once such animation beam'd;
his prey;
The King of Terrors seized her as
Not worth, nor beauty, have her life redeem'd.

Oh! could that King of Terrors pity feel,

Or Heaven reverse the dread decrees of fate! Not here the mourner would his grief reveal,

Not here the muse her virtues would relate. But wherefore weep? Her matchless spirit soars Beyond where splendid shines the orb of day; And weeping angels lead her to those bowers

Where endless pleasures virtue's deeds repay. And shall presumptuous mortals Heaven arraign, And, madly, godlike Providence accuse ? Ah! no, far fly from me attempts so vain ;I'll ne'er submission to my God refuse.

Yet is remembrance of those virtues dear,

Yet fresh the memory of that beauteous face; Still they call forth my warm affection's tear, Still in my heart retain their wonted place.

[blocks in formation]

TO D

IN thee I fondly hoped to clasp
A friend, whom death alone could sever;
Till envy, with malignant grasp,

Detach'd thee from my breast for ever.

True, she has forced thee from my breast, Yet in my heart thou keep'st thy seat; There, there thine image still must rest, Until that heart shall cease to beat.

And when the grave restores her dead,
When life again to dust is given,
On thy dear breast I'll lay my head-
Without thee, where would be my heaven?

LINES

WRITTEN IN LETTERS OF AN ITALIAN NUN AND AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN BY J. J. ROUSSEAU: FOUNDED ON FACTS.'

"Away, away, your flattering arts

May now betray some simpler hearts:
And you will smile at their believing,
And they shall weep at your deceiving."
ANSWER TO THE FOREGOING, ADDRESSED
TO MISS

[ocr errors]

DEAR, simple girl, those flattering arts
From which thou'dst guard frail female hearts,
Exist but in imagination-

Mere phantoms of thine own creation :
For he who views that witching grace,
That perfect form, that lovely face,
With eyes admiring, oh! believe me,
He never wishes to deceive thee:
Once in thy polish'd mirror glance,
Thou'lt there descry that elegance
Which from our sex demands such praises,
But envy in the other raises :

Then he who tells thee of thy beauty,
Believe me, only does his duty:
Ah! fly not from the candid youth;
It is not flattery-'tis truth.

[blocks in formation]
« PreviousContinue »