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Thy cheek is pale with thought, but not from woe,
And yet so lovely, that if Mirth could flush
My heart would wish away that ruder glow :And dazzle not thy deep-blue eyes—but oh!
While gazing on them sterner eyes will gush,
Soft as the last drops round heaven's airy bow. For, through thy long dark lashes low depending,
The soul of melancholy Gentleness
Gleams like a seraph from the sky descending, Above all pain, yet pitying all distress ;
At once such majesty with sweetness blending, I worship more, but cannot love thee less.
ON THE MONUMENT OF A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.
When some proud son of man returns to earth,
Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Newstead Abbey, Oct. 30, 1808. FAREWELL.
FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer
For other's weal availd 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!- Farewell!
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!
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; And our sorrow may cease to repine,
When we know that thy God is with thee.
Light be the turf of thy tomb!
May its verdure like emeralds be:
In aught that reminds us of thee.
May spring from the spot of thy rest: But nor cypress nor yew let us see;
For why should we mourn for the blest ?