What friend for thee, howe'er inclined,
Will deign to own a kindred care?
Who will debase his manly mind,

For friendship every fool may share?

In time forbear; amidst the throng

No more so base a thing be seen;

No more so idly pass along:

Be something, any thing, but-mean.

1808.

LINES INSCRIBED UPON A CUP FORMED FROM

A SKULL.

START not-nor deem my spirit fled :

In me behold the only skull,
From which, unlike a living head,
Whatever flows is never dull.

I lived, I lov'd, I quaffed like thee:
I died: let earth my bones resign:
Fill up-thou canst not injure me;

The worm hath fouler lips than thine.

Better to hold the sparkling grape,

Than nurse the earth-worm's slimy brood;
And circle in the goblet's shape

The drink of gods, than reptile's food.

Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone,
In aid of others' let me shine;

And when, alas! our brains are gone,
What nobler substitute than wine?

Quaff while thou canst: another race,
When thou and thine, like me, are sped,
May rescue thee from earth's embrace,
And rhyme and revel with the dead.
Why no-since through life's little day
Our heads such sad effects produce?
Redeem'd from worms and wasting clay,
This chance is theirs, to be of use.

Newstead Abbey, 1808.

WELL! THOU ART HAPPY.*

WELL! thou art happy, and I feel
That I should thus be happy too;
For still my heart regards thy weal
Warmly, as it was wont to do.

Written after he had been invited to dine at the residence of Mary Chaworth. the object of his early affection, then married to Mr Musters.

Thy husband's blest-and 'twill impart
Some pangs to view his happier lot:
But let them pass-Oh! how my heart
Would hate him, if he loved thee not!
When late I saw thy favourite child,

I thought my jealous heart would break;
But when the unconscious infant smiled,
I kiss'd it for its mother's sake.

I kiss'd it, and repress'd my sighs,
Its father in its face to see;
But then it had its mother's eyes,
And they were all to love and me.

Mary, adieu! I must away;

While thou art blest I'll not repine;
But near thee I can never stay;

My heart would soon again be thine.

I deem'd that time, I deem'd that pride
Had quench'd at length my boyish flame;
Nor knew, till seated by thy side,

My heart in all,-save hope,-the same.

Yet was I calm: I knew the time

My breast would thrill before thy look;

But now to tremble were a crime-
We met, and not a nerve was shook.

I saw thee gaze upon my face,

Yet meet with no confusion there:
One only feeling could'st thou trace;
The sullen calmness of despair.

Away! away! my early dream

Remembrance never must awake:
Oh! where is Lethe's fabled stream?
My foolish heart, be still, or break.

November 2, 1808.

INSCRIPTION ON THE MONUMENT OF A
NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.

WHEN some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,
The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe,
And storied urns record who rests below;
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,

Not what he was, but what he should have been;
But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his master's own,
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonour'd falls, unnoticed all his worth,
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth:

While man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.
Oh man thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power,

Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!

Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit !

By nature vile, ennobled but by name,

Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.
Ye! who perchance behold this simple urn,
Pass on-it honours none you wish to mourn:
To mark a friend's remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one,-and here he lies.

Newstead Abbey, November 30, 1808.

TO A LADY,

(MRS MUSTERS.)

ON BEING ASKED MY REASON FOR QUITTING ENGLAND IN THE SPRING

WHEN Man, expell'd from Eden's bowers,
A moment linger'd near the gate,
Each scene recall'd the vanish'd hours,
And bade him curse his future fate.

But, wandering on through distant climes,
He learnt to bear his load of grief;
Just gave a sigh to other times,

And found in busier scenes relief.

Thus, lady! will it be with me,

And I must view thy charms no more;

For, while I linger near to thee,

I sigh for all I knew before.

In flight I shall be surely wise,
Escaping from temptation's snare;

I cannot view my paradise

Without a wish to enter there..

December 2, 1808.

REMIND ME NOT, REMIND ME NOT.

REMIND me not, remind me not,

Of those beloved, those vanish'd hours,
When all my soul was given to thee;

Hours that may never be forgot,

Till time unnerves our vital powers,
And thou and I shall cease to be.

Can I forget-canst thou forget,
When playing with thy golden hair,

How quick thy fluttering heart did move?

Oh! by my soul, I see thee yet,
With eyes so languid, breast so fair,
And lips, though silent, breathing love.
When thus reclining on my breast,
Those eyes threw back a glance so sweet,
As half reproach'd yet raised desire,
And still we near and nearer prest,
And still our glowing lips would meet,
As if in kisses to expire.

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 bear.
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,

Till thou and I shall be forgot,

And senseless as the mouldering stone
Which tells that we shall be no more.

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 this-
To 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 'tis doubly sweet to find

Remembrance of that love remain.
Yes! 'tis 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.

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.

Oh lady blessed be that tear

It falls for one who cannot weep:
Such precious drops are doubly dear
To those whose eyes no tear may steep.

Sweet lady! once my heart was warm
With every feeling soft as thine;
But beauty's self hath ceased to charm
A wretch created to repine.

Yet 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.

FILL THE GOBLET AGAIN.

A SONG.

FILL the goblet again! for I never before

Felt the glow which now gladdens my heart to its core ;
Let us drink!-who would not?-since, through life's varied

round,

In the goblet alone no deception is found.

I have tried in its turn all that life can supply;

I have bask'd in the beam of a dark rolling eye;

I have lov'd!--who has not ?-bt what heart can declare, That pleasure existed while passion was there?