Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee, and be thy love.
But could youth last, and love still breed;
Had joys no date, nor age no need;
Then these delights my mind might move,
To live with thee and be thy love.
In vain you tell your parting Lover,
You wish fair winds may waft him over:
Alas! what winds can happy prove,
That bear me far from what I love?
Alas! what dangers on the main
Can equal those that I sustain
From slighted vows and cold disdain?
Be gentle, and in pity choose
To wish the wildest tempest loose;
That, thrown again upon the coast
Where first my shipwreck'd heart was lost,
I may once more repeat my pain;
Once more in dying notes complain
Of slighted vows, and cold disdain!
How few the moons since last, immersed
In thoughts of fev'rish, worldly care,
My casket's heaped contents reversed,
I sought some scroll I wanted there;
How died at once abstraction's air-
How fixed my frame, as by a spell,
When on THY lines, so slight, so fair,
My hurrying glance arrested fell!
My soul that instant saw thee far
Sit in thy crown of bridal flowers,
And with Another watch the star
We watch'd in vanish'd vesper hours.
And as I paced the lonely room,
I wonder'd how that holy ray
Could with its light a world illume
So filled with falsehood and decay.
Once more-above those slender lines
I bend me with suspended breath-
The hand that traced them now reclines
Clasp'd in th' unclosing hand of Death.
The worm hath made that brow its own
Where Love his wreath so lately set;
And in this heart survive alone
Forgiveness-pity-and regret.
"Twas 'mid the theatre's gay throng-
Life's loveliest colours round me spread-
That, 'mid the pauses of a song,
I caught the careless" She is dead!"
The gaudy crowd-thy sudden grave—
I shrank in that contrasting shock,
Like midnight Listener by the wave,
When splits some bark upon the rock.
This EARLY DEATH-Within its pale
Sad air each angry feeling fades-
An evening haze, whose tender veil
The landscape's harsher features shades. Ah, Scornful One-thy bier's white hue Stole every earth-stain from thy cheek, And left thee all to MEMORY'S View
That HOPE once dared in thee to seek.
SEE, see, she wakes, Sabrina wakes!
And now the sun begins to rise:
Less glorious is the morn that breaks
From his bright beams, than her fair eyes.
With light united, day they give;
But different fates ere night fulfil: How many by his warmth will live! How many will her coldness kill!
WHY seek her heart to understand,
If but enough thou knowest
To prove that all thy love, like sand,
Upon the wind thou throwest ?
The ill thou makest out at last
Doth but reflect the bitter past,
While all the good thou earnest yet,
But makes her harder to forget.
What matters all the nobleness
Which in her breast resideth,
And what the warmth and tenderness
Her mien of coldness hideth,
If but ungenerous thoughts prevail
When thou her bosom wouldst assail,
While tenderness and warmth doth ne'er,
By any chance, toward thee appear.
Sum up each token thou hast won
Of kindred feeling there-
How few for Hope to build upon,
How many for Despair!
And if e'er word or look declareth
Love or aversion which she beareth,
While of the first, no proof thou hast,
How many are there of the last!
Then strive no more to understand
Her heart, of whom thou knowest Enough to prove thy love like sand
Upon the wind thou throwest;
The ill thou makest out at last
Doth but reflect the bitter past,
While all the good thou learnest yet
But makes her harder to forget.
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