TO A LADY. WITH FALCONER'S " SHIPWRECK." AH! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams, Nor yet while gazing in sublimer mood 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! 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-wrecked man! Say then, what muse inspired these genial strains, The elevating thought of suffered pains, 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! Risen from the bed of pain, and fear, The sunny Showers, the dappled Sky, The little Birds that warble high, Their vernal loves commencing, Will better welcome you than I With their sweet influencing. Believe me, while in bed you lay, Besides, what vexed us worse, we knew, They have no need of such as you In the place where you were going: This World has angels all too few, And Heaven is overflowing! SOMETHING CHILDISH, BUT VERY NATURAL. WRITTEN IN GERMANY. IF I had but two little wings, But thoughts like these are idle things, But in my sleep to you I fly : I'm always with you in my sleep! The world is all one's own. But then one wakes, and where am I? All, all alone. |