Seize the CURST CURLS, ye Furies, as they fly! Demons of Darkness, guard the infernal roll, That thence your cruel vengeance when I die, May knit the KNots of torture for my SOUL. Last night,.. Oh hear me, Heaven, and grant my prayer! The BOOK OF FATE before thy suppliant lay, And let me from its ample records tear Only the single PAGE OF YESTERDAY! Or let me meet OLD TIME upon his flight, I'll force him back the ROAD OF Yesterday. Last night, as o'er the page of Love's despair, And drew the FATAL SCISSARS from my sleeve : And would that at that instant o'er my thread She heard the scissars that fair lock divide, "You stupid Puppy,.. you have spoil'd my Wig!" Westbury, 1799. LYRIC POEMS. TO HORROR. Τὶν γὰρ ποτα εἴσομαι τὰν καὶ σκύλικες τρομέοντι Ερχομέναν νεκύων ἀνά τ' ηριά, και μέλαν αἷμα. THEOCRITUS. DARK Horror! hear my call! That trembles o'er its shade; Where wrapt in midnight gloom, alone, The roar of waters near, And listen to the deep dull groan Of some perturbed sprite Or whether o'er some wide waste hill Or if thou followest now on Greenland's shore, And by the dim drear Boreal light Or if thy fury form, The dark-wing'd tempests sweep, Beholds from some high cliff the increasing storm, As the black billows to the thunder rave, Thou see'st the tall ship sink beneath the wave. Bear me in spirit where the field of fight On many a carcase shine the dews of night, Save when at times is heard the glutted Raven's scream. Where some wreck'd army from the Conqueror's might With thee, fierce Genius! let me trace their way, On the heap'd snows reclining, clasps her child, Not to be pitied now, for both are now at rest. Black HORROR! speed we to the bed of Death, Hath sent abroad the myriad plagues of war Struggles with his last breath; Then to his wildly-starting eyes The spectres of the slaughter'd rise ; Then on his phrensied ear Their calls for vengeance and the Demons' yell HORROR! I call thee yet once more! The gales of Pestilence! Arouse the opprest; teach them to know their power; I will behold and smile by MERCY's side. TO CONTEMPLATION. Καὶ παγᾶς φιλέοιμι τὸν ἐγγύθεν ἦχον ἀκούειν, “Α τέρπει ψοφέοισα τὸν ἄγρικον, οὐχὶ ταράσσει. MOSCHUS. FAINT gleams the evening radiance through the sky, In short quick circles the shrill bat flits by, Now the pleased eye from yon lone cottage sees And lo! the Rooks to yon high-tufted trees I view thee on the calmy shore When Ocean stills his waves to rest; Or when slow-moving on the surges hoar Meet with deep hollow roar And whiten o'er his breast; And when the Moon with softer radiance gleams, And lovelier heave the billows in her beams. |