SONNET. TO GENEVRA. THY cheek is pale with thought, but not from woe, 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. INSCRIPTION ON THE MONUMENT OF A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG. WHEN some proud son of man returns to earth, The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe, Not what he was, but what he should have been: Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth: Oh man! thou feeble tenant of an hour, Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust, Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, By nature vile, ennobled but by name, Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame. I never knew but one, and here he lies. Newstead Abbey, Oct. 30, 1808. FAREWELL. FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer But waft thy name beyond the sky. 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; 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! 1. BRIGHT be the place of thy soul! In the orbs of the blessed to shine. As thy soul shall immortally be; And our sorrow may cease to repine, When we know that thy God is with thee. 2. Light be the turf of thy tomb! May its verdure like emeralds be: There should not be the shadow of gloom, In aught that reminds us of thee. Young flowers and an evergreen tree For why should we mourn for the blest? |