Her charms are lost in envy's sight, And virtue stands the mark of universal spite. THE DISDAIN. TO JOHN HARTOPP, ESQ. AFTERWARDS SIR JOHN HARTOPP, BART. HARTOPP, I love the soul that dares Fleetwood and all thy heavenly line Young Hartopp knows this noble theme, The noise, the amusements, and the strife, Flesh is the vilest and the least We're born to live above the beast, Or quit the manly name. Pleasures of sense we leave for boys; ; Be shining dust the miser's food And seize the immortal good. TO MITIO, MY FRIEND. AN EPISTLE. FORGIVE me, Mitio, that there should be any mortifying lines in the following poems inscribed to you, so soon after your entrance into that state which was designed for the completest happiness on earth; but you will quickly discover, that the muse in the first poem only represents the shades and dark colors that melancholy throws upon love, and the social life. In the second, perhaps she indulges her own bright ideas a little. Yet if the accounts are but well balanced at last, and things set in a due light, I hope there is no ground for censure. Here you will find an attempt made to talk of one of the most important concerns of human nature in verse, and that with a solemnity becoming the argument. I have banished grimace and ridicule, that persons of the most serious character may read without offence. What was written several years ago to yourself, is now permitted to entertain the world; but you may assume it to yourself as a private entertainment still, while you lie concealed behind a feigned name. THE MOURNING-PIECE. LIFE's a long tragedy: this globe the stage, Well fix'd and well adorn'd with strong machines, Gay fields, and skies, and seas: the actors many : The pointed plagues fly silent through the air, Dianthe acts her little part alone, Nor wishes an associate. Lo! she glides Single through all the storm, and more secure; Less are her dangers, and her breast receives The fewest darts. "But, O my lov'd Marilla, "My sister, once my friend (Dianthe cries) "How much art thou expos'd! Thy growing soul "Doubled in wedlock, multiplied in children, "Stands but the broader mark for all the mischiefs "That rove promiscuous o'er the mortal stage: "Children, those dear young limbs, those tenderest pieces "Of your own flesh, those little other selves, "How they dilate the heart to wide dimensions, "And soften every fibre to improve "The mother's sad capacity of pain! "I mourn Fidelio too; though heaven has chose "A favourite mate for him, of all her sex "The pride and flower: how blest the lovely pair, "Beyond expression, if well-mingled loves "And woes well mingled could improve our bliss! "Amidst the rugged cares of life, behold "The father and the husband; flattering names, "That spread his title, and enlarge his share "Of common wretchedness. He fondly hopes "To multiply his joys, but every hour "Renews the disappointment and the smart. "There's not a wound afflicts the meanest joint "Of his fair partner, or her infant train, "(Sweet babes!) but pierces to his inmost soul "Strange is thy power, O love! what numerous veins, "And arteries, and arms, and hands, and eyes, "Are link'd and fasten'd to a lover's heart, "By strong but secret strings! With vain attempt "We put the Stoic on; in vain we try "To break the ties of nature and of blood; "Those hidden threads maintain the dear com munion Inviolably firm; their thrilling motions "Reciprocal give endless sympathy "In all the bitters and the sweets of life. Thus sang the tuneful maid, fearful to try Nor put the chains on; dangerous to try, Stole down her cheeks, to mourn the hapless state Easy But thy own cares of softer kind Give sharper wounds: they lodge too near the heart, Beat, like the pulse, perpetual, and create Say, my companion, Mitio, speak sincere, Thee from thy fair beloved! Vainly smiles |