Yet shall not these one hope destroy, A Father's heart is thine, my Boy !

Why, let the world unfeeling frown, Must I fond Nature's claim disown?

-

Ah, no- though moralists reprove,
I hail thee, dearest child of love,
Fair cherub, pledge of youth and joy
A Father guards thy birth, my Boy!

Oh, 't will be sweet in thee to trace,
Ere age has wrinkled o'er my face,
Ere half my glass of life is run,
At once a brother and a son;
And all my wane of years employ
In justice done to thee, my Boy!

Although so young thy heedless sire,
Youth will not damp parental fire;
And, wert thou still less dear to me,
While Helen's form revives in thee,
The breast, which beat to former joy,
Will ne'er desert its pledge, my Boy!
1807. [First published, 1830.]

SONG

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[First published in the Edition of 1898 from a manuscript in the possession of the Earl of Lovelace.]

BREEZE of the night in gentler sighs

More softly murmur o'er the pillow; For Slumber seals my Fanny's eyes,

And Peace must never shun her pillow.

Or breathe those sweet Eolian strains

Stolen from celestial spheres above, To charm her ear while some remains,

And soothe her soul to dreams of love.

But Breeze of night again forbear,
In softest murmurs only sigh;
Let not a Zephyr's pinion dare

To lift those auburn locks on high.

Chill is thy Breath thou breeze of night!
Oh! ruffle not those lids of Snow;
For only Morning's cheering light
May wake the beam that lurks below.

Blest be that lip and azure eye!

Sweet Fanny, hallow'd be thy Sleep! Those lips shall never vent a sigh, Those eyes may never wake to weep. February 23, 1808.

TO HARRIET

[First published in Edition of 1898 from a manuscript in possession of Mr. Murray.] HARRIET! To see such Circumspection In Ladies I have no objection

Concerning what they read; An ancient Maid's a sage adviser, Like her, you will be much the wiser, In word, as well as Deed.

But Harriet, I don't wish to flatter,
And really think 't would make the matter
More perfect if not quite,

If other Ladies when they preach,
Would certain Damsels also teach
More cautiously to write.

'FAREWELL! IF EVER FONDEST PRAYER'

FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer
For other's weal avail'd on high,
Mine will not all be lost in air,

But waft thy name beyond the sky.
Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh:
Oh! more than tears of blood can tell,
When wrung from guilt's expiring eye,
Are in that word-Farewell! - Fare-
well!

These lips are mute, these eyes are dry;
But in my breast and in my brain,
Awake the pangs that pass not by,

The thought that ne'er shall sleep again.

My soul nor deigns nor dares complain,
Though grief and passion there rebel:
I only know we loved in vain-

I only feel-Farewell! - Farewell!
1808. [First published, 1814.]

'BRIGHT BE THE PLACE OF THY SOUL'

BRIGHT be the place of thy soul !
No lovelier spirit than thine
E'er burst from its mortal control,
In the orbs of the blessed to shine.

On earth thou wert all but divine, As thy soul shall immortally be;

"THERE WAS A TIME, I NEED NOT NAME'

THERE was a time, I need not name,
Since it will ne'er forgotten be,
When all our feelings were the same
As still my soul hath been to thee.

And from that hour when first thy tongue
Confess'd a love which equall'd mine,
Though many a grief my heart hath wrung,
Unknown and thus unfelt by thine,

None, none hath sunk so deep as thisTo think how all that love hath flown; Transient as every faithless kiss,

But transient in thy breast alone.

And yet my heart some solace knew,
When late I heard thy lips declare,
In accents once imagined true,
Remembrance of the days that were.

Yes; my adored, yet most unkind!

Though thou wilt never love again, To me 't is doubly sweet to find

Remembrance of that love remain.

Yes! 't is a glorious thought to me,
Nor longer shall my soul repine,
Whate'er thou art or e'er shalt be,

Thou hast been dearly, solely mine.
June 10, 1808. [First published, 1809.]

'AND WILT THOU WEEP WHEN I AM LOW?'

AND wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so

I would not give that bosom pain.

My heart is sad, my hopes are gone,
My blood runs coldly through my breast;
And when I perish, thou alone

Wilt sigh above my place of rest.

And yet, methinks, a gleam of peace
Doth through my cloud of anguish shine;
And for awhile my sorrows cease,

To know thy heart hath felt for mine.

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And then those pensive eyes would close,
And bid their lids each other seek,
Veiling the azure orbs below;
While their long lashes' darken'd gloss
Seem'd stealing o'er thy brilliant cheek,
Like raven's plumage smooth'd on snow

I dreamt last night our love return'd,
And, sooth to say, that very dream
Was sweeter in its phantasy,
Than if for other hearts I burn'd,
For eyes that ne'er like thine could beam
In rapture's wild reality.

Then tell me not, remind me not,
Of hours which, though for ever gone,
Can still a pleasing dream restore,

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