COULD Love for ever Run like a river, And Time's endeavour Be tried in vain No other pleasure With this could measure; And like a treasure We'd hug the chain. But since our sighing Ends not in dying, And, form'd for flying, Love plumes his wing; Then for this reason Let's love a season; But let that season be only Spring. When lovers parted And, all hopes thwarted, A few years older, Ah! how much colder For whom they sigh! They pluck Love's feather From out his wing He'll stay for ever, But sadly shiver Without his plumage, when past the Spring. R MISSOLONGHI, gan. 22, 1824. 'Tis time this heart should be unmoved, Since others it hath ceased to move: My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preys The hope, the fear, the jealous care, But 'tis not thus-and 'tis not here— Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now, The sword, the banner, and the field, Awake! (not Greece-she is awake!) Tread those reviving passions down, If thou regrett'st thy youth, why live? Is here:-up to the field, and give |