« السابقةمتابعة »
The youth for whom thy bosom sighs
Thou in existence still canst find
Dried be that tear, my gentlest love,
Be husht that struggling sigh ;
More fixt, more true than I.
Dost ask how long my vows shall stay
When all that's new is past?
How long my life will last?
And does that thought affect thee too,
The thought of Sylvio's death, That he who only breathes for you
Must yield that faithful breath? Husht be that sigh, be dried that tear, Nor let us lose our heaven here!
R. B. SHERIDAN.
Au! tell me not that jealous fear
Betrays a weak suspicious mind; Were I less true, and thou less dear,
I should be blest, and thou be kind.
But while, by giddy fancy led,
In search of joy you wildly rove,
Yet soon my anxious fears shall cease;. 7
Since I am doom'd from thee to party That day will give me lasting peace,
For oh! that day will break my heart.
Ir in that breast, so good, so pure,
Compassion ever loved to dwell, Pity the sorrows I endure;
The cause I must not, dare not tell.
The grief that on my quiet preys,
That rends my heart, that checks my tongue, I fear will last me all my days, But feel it will not last me long. *
Sir J. Moore.
Too plain, dear youth, these tell-tale eyes
My heart your own declare ; But for heaven's sake let it suffice
You reign triumphant there!
* From the French,
Forbear your utmost power to try,
Nor further urge your sway ; Press not for what I must deny,
For fear I should obey.
Could all your arts successful prove,
Would you a maid undo
And that, her love for you?
Say, would you use that very power
You from her fondness claim, To ruin in one fatal hour
A life of spotless fame?
Resolve not then to do an ill
Because perhaps you may, But rather use your utmost skill
To save me than betray.
Be you yourself my virtue's guard,
Defend and not pursue,
To strive with love and you.
By my sighs you may discover
What soft wishes touch my heart'; Eyes can speak, and tell the lover
What the tongue must not impart.
Blushing shame forbids revealing
Thoughts your breast may disapprove; But 'tis hard, and past concealing,
When we truly, fondly love.
Strephon, when you see me fly
Let not this your fear create :
Out of love as out of hate :
Did I out of hatred run,
Less you'd be my pain and care; But the youth I love, to shun,
Who can such a trial bear? Who that such a swain did see, Who could love and fly like me?