A's on she moves with hesitating grace,
She wins assurance from his soothing voice;
And, with a look the pencil could not trace,
Smiles through her blushes, and confirms the choice.
Spare the fine tremors of her feeling frame!
To thee she turns-forgive a virgin's fears!
To thee she turns with surest, tenderest claim;
Weakness that charms, reluctance that endears!
At each response the sacred rite requires,
From her full bosom bursts the unbidden sigh.
A strange mysterious awe the scene inspires;
And on her lips the trembling accents die.
O'er her fair face what wild emotions play!
What lights and shades in sweet confusion blend!
Soon shail they fly, glad harbingers of day,
And settled sunshine on her soul descend!
Ah, soon, thine own confest, ecstatic thought! [ers ; That hand shall strew thy summer-path with flowAnd those blue eyes, with mildest lustre fraught, Gild the calm current of domestic hours!
AH! why with tell-tale tongue reveal*
What most her blushes would conceal?
Why lift that modest veil to trace
The seraph sweetness of her face?
Some fairer, better sport prefer;
And feel for us, if not for her.
For this presumption, soon or late,
Know, thine shall be a kindred fate.
Another shall in vengeance rise-
Sing Harriet's cheeks, and Harriet's eyes;
And, echoing back her wood-notes wild
-Trace all the mother in the child!
* Alluding to some verses which she had written on an elder sister.
MINE be a cot beside the hill;
A bee-hive's hum shall sooth my ear;
A willowy brook, that turns a mill,
With many a fall, shall linger near.
The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch,
Shall twitter from her clay built nest;
Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,
And share my meal a welcome guest.
Around my ivyed porch shall spring
Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;
And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing,
In russet gown and apron blue.
The village church, among the trees,
Where first our marriage vows were given,
With merry peals shall swell the breeze,
And point with taper spire to heaven.
As through the hedgerow shade the violet steals,
And the sweet air its modest leaf reveals;
Her softer charms, but by their influence known,
Surprise all hearts, and mould them to her own.
ONCE more, enchanting girl, adieu !
I must begone, while yet I may.
Oft shall I weep to think of you;
But here I will not, cannot stay.
The sweet expression of that face,
For ever changing, yet the same;
Ah, no, I dare not turn to trace ;
It melts my soul, it fires my frame !
Yet give me, give me, ere I go,
One little lock of those so blest
That lend your cheek a warmer glow,
And on your white neck love to rest.
-Say when to kindle soft delight,
That hand has chanced with mine to meet,
How could its thrilling touch excite
A sigh so short, and yet so sweet?
O say-but no, it must not be.
Adieu, enchanting girl, adieu !
-Yet still, methinks, you frown on me
Or never could I fly from you.
Immota manet; multosque nepotes, Multa virum volvens durando saecula, vincit.
Round thee, alas, no shadows move!
-From thee no sacred murmurs breathe!
Yet within thee, thyself a grove,
Once did the eagle scream above,
And the wolf howl beneath.
There once the steel clad night reclined
His sable plumage tempest tossed, And, as the death-bell smote the wind, From towers long fled by human kind, His brow the hero crossed!
Then culture came, and days serene,
And village-sports, and garlands gay.
Full many a pathway crossed the green,
And maids and shepherd-youths were seen
To celebrate the May.
Father of many a forest deep,
! Whence many a navy thunder fraught,
Erst in their acorn cells asleep,
Soon destined o'er the world to sweep,
Opening new spheres of thought!
Wont in the night of woods to dwell,
The holy druid saw thee rise;
And planting there the guardian spell,
Sung forth, the dreadful pomp to swell
Of human sacrifice!
Thy singed top and branches bare
Now straggle in the evening sky,
And the wan moon whee's round to glare
On the long corse that shivers there
Of him who came to die!
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