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[Written 1753 (?). Published by Croft, 1825.]
SEE where the Thames, the purest stream
That wavers to the noon-day beam,
Divides the vale below:

While like a vein of liquid ore
His waves enrich the happy shore,
Still shining as they flow.

Nor yet, my Delia, to the main
Runs the sweet tide without a stain,
Unsullied as it seems:

The nymphs of many a sable flood
Deform with streaks of oozy mud
The bosom of the Thames.

Some idle rivulets, that feed
And suckle ev'ry noisome weed,
A sandy bottom boast :
For ever bright, for ever clear,
The trifling shallow rills appear
In their own channel lost.

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Thus fares it with the human soul,
Where copious floods of passion roll,
By genuine love supplied:

Fair in itself the current shows,

But ah! a thousand anxious woes

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Pollute the noble tide.

These are emotions known to few;
For where at most a vap'ry dew

Surrounds the tranquil heart,
Then, as the triflers never prove
The glad excess of real love,

They never prove the smart.

Oh then, my life, at last relent,
Though cruel the reproach I sent,
My sorrow was unfeign'd:

Your passion, had I lov'd you not,

You might have scorn'd, renounc'd, forgot,
And I had ne'er complain'd.

While you indulge a groundless fear,
Th' imaginary woes you bear

Are real woes to me:

But thou art kind, and good thou art,

Nor wilt, by wronging thine own heart,
Unjustly punish me.

11 Deform Southey: Deform'd Croft.

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[Written (?). Published by Croft, 1825.] How blest the youth whom Fate ordains A kind relief from all his pains,

In some admired fair;

Whose tend'rest wishes find express'd

Their own resemblance in her breast
Exactly copied there.

What good soe'er the Gods dispense,

Th' enjoyment of its influence

Still on her love depends;

Her love the shield that guards his heart,

Or wards the blow, or blunts the dart,

That peevish Fortune sends.

Thus, Delia, while thy love endures,
The flame my happy breast secures
From Fortune's fickle pow'r;

Change as she list, she may increase,
But not abate my happiness,

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Confirm'd by thee before.

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Thus while I share her smiles with thee,

Welcome, my love, shall ever be

The favours she bestows;

Yet not on those I found my bliss,

But in the noble ecstasies

The faithful bosom knows.

And when she prunes her wings for flight,

And flutters nimbly from my sight,

Contented I resign

Whate'er she gave; thy love alone

I can securely call my own,

Happy while that is mine.

ODE

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SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN ON THE MARRIAGE OF A FRIEND

[Written (?). Published by Croft, 1825.]

THOU magic lyre, whose fascinating sound
Seduc'd the savage monsters from their cave,
Drew rocks and trees, and forms uncouth around,
And bade wild Hebrus hush his list'ning wave;
No more thy undulating warblings flow
O'er Thracian wilds of everlasting snow!
Awake to sweeter sounds, thou magic lyre,
And paint a lover's bliss-a lover's pain!
Far nobler triumphs now thy notes inspire,-

How blest-4 find Southey: finds Croft. Ode-1-6 see notes.

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For see, Euridice attends thy strain;
Her smile, a prize beyond the conjuror's aim-
Superior to the cancell'd breath of fame.

From her sweet brow to chase the gloom of care,
To check that tear that dims the beaming eye,
To bid her heart the rising sigh forbear,

And flush her orient cheek with brighter joy,
In that dear breast soft sympathy to move,
And touch the springs of rapture and of love!
Ah me! how long bewilder'd and astray,

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Lost and benighted, did my footsteps rove, Till, sent by heav'n to cheer my pathless way, A star arose-the radiant star of love. The God propitious join'd our willing hands, And Hymen wreath'd us in his rosy bands. Yet not the beaming eye, or placid brow, Or golden tresses, hid the subtle dart; To charms superior far than those I bow, And nobler worth enslaves my vanquish'd heart; The beauty, elegance, and grace combin'd, Which beam transcendant from that angel mind; While vulgar passions-meteors of a day, Expire before the chilling blasts of age, Our holy flame, with pure and steady ray,

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Its glooms shall brighten, and its pangs assuage; By Virtue (sacred vestal) fed, shall shine, 35 And warm our fainting souls with energy divine.

ON HER ENDEAVOURING TO CONCEAL
HER GRIEF AT PARTING

[Written 1754 (?). Published by Croft, 1825.]

AH! wherefore should my weeping maid suppress
Those gentle signs of undissembled woe?
When from soft love proceeds the deep distress,
Ah! why forbid the willing tears to flow?
Since for my sake each dear translucent drop
Breaks forth, best witness of thy truth sincere,
My lips should drink the precious mixture up,
And, ere it falls, receive the trembling tear.
Trust me, these symptoms of thy faithful heart,
In absence, shall my dearest hopes sustain,
Delia! since such thy sorrow that we part,
Such when we meet thy joy shall be again.
21 way Bruce ray Croft.

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Hard is that heart and unsubdued by love
That feels no pain, nor ever heaves a sigh,
Such hearts the fiercest passions only prove,
Or freeze in cold insensibility.

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Oh! then indulge thy grief, nor fear to tell
The gentle source from whence thy sorrows flow!
Nor think it weakness when we love to feel,

Nor think it weakness what we feel to show.

[Written at Berkhamstead 1754 (?). Published by Croft, 1825.] BID adieu, my sad heart, bid adieu to thy peace, Thy pleasure is past, and thy sorrows increase; See the shadows of ev'ning how far they extend, And a long night is coming, that never may end; For the sun is now set that enliven'd the scene, And an age must be past ere it rises again. Already depriv'd of its splendour and heat, I feel thee more slowly, more heavily beat; Perhaps overstrain'd with the quick pulse of plea

sure,

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Thou art glad of this respite to beat at thy leisure; But the sigh of distress shall now weary thee more Than the flutter and tumult of passion before.

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The heart of a lover is never at rest,
With joy overwhelm'd, or with sorrow oppress'd :
When Delia is near, all is ecstasy then,
And I even forget I must lose her again :
When absent, as wretched as happy before,
Despairing I cry, I shall see her no more.

WRITTEN AFTER LEAVING HER AT
NEW BURNS

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[Written at Berkhamstead 1754 (?). Published by Croft, 1825.]
How quick the change from joy to woe,
How chequer'd is our lot below!
Seldom we view the prospect fair;
Dark clouds of sorrow, pain, and care,
(Some pleasing intervals between,)
Scowl over more than half the scene.
Last week with Delia, gentle maid!
Far hence in happier fields I stray'd,
While on her dear enchanting tongue
Soft sounds of grateful welcome hung,
For absence had withheld it long.

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Welcome my long-lost love, she said,
E'er since our adverse fates decreed
That we must part, and I must mourn
Till once more blest by thy return,
Love, on whose influence I relied
For all the transports I enjoy'd,
Has play'd the cruel tyrant's part,
And turn'd tormentor to my heart;
But let me hold thee to my breast,
Dear partner of my joy and rest,
And not a pain, and not a fear,
Or anxious doubt, shall enter there.—
Happy, thought I, the favour'd youth,
Blest with such undissembled truth!--
Five suns successive rose and set,
And saw no monarch in his state,
Wrapt in the blaze of majesty,
So free from every care as I.-
Next day the scene was overcast,
Such day till then I never pass'd,-
For on that day, relentless fate!
Delia and I must separate.

Yet ere we look'd our last farewell,
From her dear lips this comfort fell :-
"Fear not that time, where'er we rove,
Or absence, shall abate my love."
And can I doubt, my charming maid!
As unsincere what you have said?
Banish'd from thee to what I hate,
Dull neighbours and insipid chat,
No joy to cheer me, none in view,
But the dear hope of meeting you;
And that through passion's optic seen,
With ages interpos'd between,--
Blest with the kind support you give,
'Tis by your promis'd truth I live;
How deep my woes, how fierce my flame,
You best may tell, who feel the same.

R. S. S.

[Written 1755 (?). Published by Croft, 1825.]

ALL-WORSHIPP'D Gold! thou mighty mystery!
Say by what name shall I address thee rather,
Our blessing, or our bane? without thy aid,
The gen'rous pangs of pity but distress

26 set Southey sat Croft.

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