TO M. S. G WHEN I dream that you love me, you'll surely forgive, Extend not your anger to sleep; For in visions alone your affection can live,- Then, Morpheus! envelope my faculties fast, Should the dream of to-night but resemble the last, They tell us that slumber, the sister of death, Mortality's emblem is given: To fate how I long to resign my frail breath, If this be a foretaste of heaven. Ah! frown not, sweet lady, unbend your soft brow, If I sin in my dream, I atone for it now, Though in visions, sweet lady, perhaps you may smile, Oh! think not my penance deficient! When dreams of your presence my slumber beguile, To awake will be torture sufficient. Awake, with it my fancy teems; Alas! again no more we meet, TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER.* SWEET girl! though only once we met, What though we never silence broke, SONG.❤ WHEN I roved a young Highlander o'er the dark heath, And climb'd thy steep summit, oh Morven, of snow! † To gaze on the torrent that thunder'd beneath, And rude as the rocks where my infancy grew, No feeling, save one, to my bosom was dear; Need I say, my sweet Mary, 'twas centred in you? Yet it could not be love, for I knew not the name,What passion can dwell in the heart of a child? But still I perceive an emotion the same As I felt, when a boy, on the crag-cover'd wild. One image alone on my bosom impress'd, I loved my bleak regions, nor panted for new; And few were my wants, for my wishes were bless'd; And pure were my thoughts, for my soul was with you. I arose with the dawn; with my dog as my guide, I breasted the billow of Dee's rushing tide, ⚫ To Mary Duff. First published in the second edition of Hours a Idleness. ↑ Morven, a lofty mountain in Aberdeenshire: "Gormal of snow," in an expression frequently to be found in Ossian. This will not appear extraordinary to those who have been accustomed to the mountains; it is by no means uncommon on attaming the top of Bene-vis Ben-y-bourd, &c., to perceive between the summit and the valley, clouda day:pectator literally looks down upon the store, perfectly secure from its effects. pouring down rain, and occasionally accompanied by lightning, while the 5 Breasting the lofty mirge.—Shakspeare. • These lines were published in the private volume, and the first edition of Hours of Idleness, but subsequently omitted by the author. I The Dee is a beautiful river, which rises near Mar Lovige, and hails into the sea at New Aberdeen. When I see some dark hill point its crest to the For the present, we part-I will hope not for ever, sky, I think of the rocks that o'ershadow Colbleen; When I see the soft blue of a love-speaking eye, I think on those eyes that endear'd the rude scene: When, haply, some light-waving locks I behold, That faintly resemble my Mary's in hue, I think of the long-flowing ringlets of gold, The locks that were sacred to beauty and you. Full oft have we wander'd through Ida together, And blest were the scenes of our youth, I allow; In the spring of our life, how serene is the weather, But winter's rude tempests are gathering now. No more with affection shall memory blending However, dear S-, for I still must esteem you- Colleen is a mountain near the verge of the Highlands, not far from the ruins of Dee Castle. + This poem was first published in the Hours of Idleness. For time and regret will restore you at last; To forget our dissension we both should endeavor, I ask no atonement but days like the past. TO MARY, ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE THIS faint resemblance of thy charms, Here I can trace the locks of gold Which round thy snowy forehead wave, The cheeks which sprung from Beauty's mould, The lips which made me Beauty's slave. Here I can trace-ah, no! that eye Whose azure floats in liquid fire, Must all the painter's art defy, And bid him from the task retire. Here I behold its beauteous hue, But where's the beam so sweetly straying. Which gave a lustre to its blue, Like Luna o'er the ocean playing? Sweet copy! far more dear to me, Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art, Than all the living forms could be, Save her who placed thee next my heart. TO LESBIA.* LESBIA! since far from you I've ranged, Our souls with fond affection glow not; You say 'tis I, not you, have changed, I'd tell why, but yet I know not. Your polish'd brow no cares have crost? Or told my love with hope grown bolder. Sixteen was then our utmost age, Two years have lingering past away, love! And now new thoughts our minds engage At least I feel disposed to stray, love! "Tis I that am alone to blame, I, that am guilty of love's treason; Since your sweet breast is still the same, Caprice must be my only reason. I do not, love! suspect your truth, One trace of dark deceit it leaves not. No, no, my flame was not pretended, For, oh! I loved you most sincerely; And though our dream at last has endedMy bosom still esteems you dearly. No more we meet in yonder bowers; Your cheek's soft bloom is unimpair'd, New beauties still are daily bright'ning, Your eye for conquest beams prepared, The forge of love's resistless lightning. Arm'd thus, to make their bosoms bleed, Many will throng to sigh like me, love! More constant they may prove indeed; Fonder, alas! they ne'er can be, love! LINES ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.+ As the author was discharging his pistols in a garden, two ladies passing Yes, in that nearly fatal hour The ball obey'd some hell-born guide; But Heaven, with interposing power, In pity turned the death aside. Yet, as perchance one trembling tear Upon that thrilling bosom fell; Which I, th' unconscious cause of fear Extracted from its glistening cell. Say, what penance can atone For such an outrage done to thee? Arraign'd before thy beauty's throne, What punishment wilt thou decree? Might I perform the judge's part, The least atonement I can make But thou, perhaps, may'st now reject Let it be death, or what thou wilt. Choose, then, relentless! and I swear Nought shall thy dread decree prevent; Yet hold-one little word forbear! Let it be aught but banishment. LOVE'S LAST ADIEU.⭑ « Αει δ', αει με φεύγει.” Anacreon. THE roses of love glad the garden of life, Though nurtured 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew, Till Time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife, Or prunes them for ever in love's last adieu! In vain with endearments we soothe the sad heart, In vain do we vow for an age to be true; near the spot were alarmed by the sound of a bullet hissing near them, to The chance of an hour may command us to part. Bweet lady! why thus doth a tear steal its way Oh! who is yon misanthrope, shunning mankind? Now hate rules a heart which in love's easy chains How he envies the wretch with a soul wrapt in steel! Youth flies, life decays, even hope is o'ercast; No more with love's former devotion we sue : He spreads his young wing, he retires with the blast! The shroud of affection is love's last adieu! In this life of probation for rapture divine, Astrea declares that some penance is due; From him who has worshipp'd at love's gentle shrine The atonement is ample in love's last adieu ! Who kneels to the god on his altar of light, Must myrtle and cypress alteruately strew: His myrtle, an emblem of purest delight; His cypress, the garland of love's last adieu ! DAMÆTAS. In law an infant,† and in years a boy, From every sense of shame and virtue wean'd; Woman his dupe, his heedless friend a tool; Old in the world, though scarcely broke from school; "Tis not love disturbs thy rest, Brings prudence back in proper season. I think, is neither here, nor there) Is, that such lips, of looks endearing, Were form'd for better things than sneering: TO MARION. MARION! Why that pensive brow? What disgust to life hast thou? Change that discontented air: Frowns become not one so fair. • The Goddess of Justice. OSCAR OF ALVA. A TALE.T How sweetly shines, through azure skies. The lamp of heaven on Lora's shore; Where Alva's hoary turrets rise, And hear the din of arms no more. This poem was published for the first time in Hours of Idleness. ↑ The catastrophe of this tale was suggested by the story of "Jeronymo † la law every person is an infant who has not attained the age of twenty- and Lorenzo," in the first volume of the "Armenian, or Ghost-Seer." also bears some resemblance to a scene in the third act of "Macbeth." |