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I deem'd that time, I deem'd that pride,
My heart in all,-save hope,—the same.
Yet was I calm: I knew the time
and not a nerve was shook.
I saw thee gaze upon my face,
Yet meet with no confusion there:
Away! away! my early dream
Remembrance never must awake:
November 2, 1808.
FILL THE GOBLET AGAIN
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 loved!-who has not ?-but what heart can declare
That pleasure existed while passion was there?
In the days of my youth, when the heart's in its spring,
That friends, rosy wine! are so faithful as thou?
The heart of a mistress some boy may estrange, Friendship shifts with the sunbeam-thou never canst
Thou grow'st old-who does not ?-but on earth what appears,
Whose virtues, like thine, still increase with its years?
Yet if blest to the utmost that love can bestow,
Then the season of youth and its vanities past,
There we find-do we not ?-in the flow of the soul,
When the box of Pandora was opened on earth,
Long life to the grape! for when summer is flown,
And Hebe shall never be idle in heaven.
LINES TO MR. HODGSON
WRITTEN ON BOARD THE LISBON PACKET
HUZZA! Hodgson, we are going,
Our embargo 's off at last;
Bend the canvas o'er the mast.
Hark! the farewell gun is fired;
Here's a rascal
Not a corner for a mouse
Now our boatmen quit their mooring,
We're impatient, push from shore.
Stuck together close as wax.—
Now we've reach'd her, lo! the captain,
Some to grumble, some to spew. 'Heyday! call you that a cabin ?
Why 'tis hardly three feet square :
Did at once my vessel fill."
Did they? Jesus,
Then I'd scape the heat and racket
Fletcher! Murray! Bob! where are you?
Here's a rope's end for the dogs.
As the hatchway down he rolls,
Of warm water-'
66 What's the matter? "" "Zounds! my liver's coming up; I shall not survive the racket Of this brutal Lisbon Packet."
Now at length we're off for Turkey,
Let's have laughing
Who the devil cares for more ?—
Falmouth Roads, June 30, 1809.
STANZAS WRITTEN IN PASSING THE
THROUGH cloudless skies, in silvery sheen,
And now upon the scene I look,
The azure grave of many a Roman ; Where stern Ambition once forsook
His wavering crown to follow woman.
Sweet Florence! those were pleasant times,
Thy charms might raise new Antonies.
Yet, by thine eyes and ringlets curl'd! I cannot lose a world for thee,
But would not lose thee for a world.
November 14, 1809.
WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM
IF, in the month of dark December,
If, when the wintry tempest roar'd,