IV. TO SENSIBILITY. Though for thy sake I am crost, Spite of all the world could do. WITHER. I ALWAYS loved thee, Sensibility! And though thou hast but served to work me woe, Do love thee still!-Nurtured beneath thine eye, For me the meanest, simplest flowers that blow' Can raise up thoughts that lie too deep for tears. Not all the joys the multitude can know, Should e'er seduce my bosom to forego Thy sacred feelings!-Yet from earliest years, C Like that frail plant whose shrinking leaves betray My heart, unschooled in guile, could ne'er command Its hectics of the moment :-let thy ray, Then, thou sweet source of sorrow and delight, Beam on thy votary's soul with more attempered light! V. FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF CAMOENS. VAIN was the frown of pride to disunite To break the spell-wrought fetters of the mind :- Scorning if scorned by Fortune :-Fate's decree VI. WRITTEN IN THE CHURCH-YARD OF RUN CORN, IN CHESHIRE. THIS is a spot to musing Grief how dear! And breathe the sigh-' fools should not overhear.' What time the glow of summer's evening beam The sweet remembrances of years gone by— Come crowding on my mind; nor would I stem, For all the wealth of worlds, that woe's luxuriant gem! VII. WRITTEN AT SEA. YES, Desolation, on her viewless wing, For us, would have no morn. In greatest need, Speak peace unto his soul; and though its beam Courage, to bear the buffetings of Fate, With patience, till he reach the wished-for port of Heaven! * Dungeness Light-house. |