« السابقةمتابعة »
For thee, I judge thee by myself, and know,
Dear hapless exile! all thou must endure; The cheerless days, and every heartsick woe
That liberty might chase, and love should cure. Yet, O! when absence all my soul o'erpowers,
Why does thy pen withhold the only aid ? When gales blow homeward from the hostile
shores, Why are the expected lines of love delay'd ? Question unwise! Does not this heart require
Trust in my husband's tenderness and truth? What else can slake the slow-consuming fire My peace that scorches, and that wastes my
youth? Trust in his love my heart demands,-and, oh!
Another confidence bless'd power obtains, Rescuing my senses from severer woe
Than even this cruel banishment ordains; Reliance that kind Heaven preserves his life,
His health from wasting by disease's brands; That not to their restraints his faithful wife
Owes her late baffled hopes and vacant hands. If she may judge his feelings by her own,
And grateful memory urges that she may, He numbers tear for tear, and groan for groan,
Through the slow progress of the joyless day. With sweet remembrances my thrilling heart
Full of the past surrounds itself in vain; They rise!—they charm !--but soon, alas ! impart,
By sad comparison, increase of pain.
No fond deception, nor yet Hope nor Fear
Arrest the pace of life-exhausting Time ! He might return!-one word, and he is here ! Ah! why are bonds for him who knows not
crime ? Fierce war ordains them! Fiend of humankind!
Fetters and death one murder overtake; From thee the guiltless no exemption find,
Thy murder'd millions glut the vulture's beak! And from such fate remember, O my soul,
Exile and bonds severe redemption prove; That thought drops sweetness in the bitter bowl
Quaff'd to the dregs by long-divided love. Oft to my aid this consciousness I call,
To close the eyes which still have oped to weep; When night and sorrow spread their mingled pall, That thought distills the oblivious balm of
sleep. All things around me seem to expect him here;
My husband's favourite robe enfolds me still ; Here have I ranged the books he loved,--and
there Placed the selected chair he used to fill. Again to be resumed, if yielding fate
At length would give him back to love and me; Then should I see him there reclined sedate,
Our darling children clinging round his knee. And lo! at yonder table where they stand!
Their glances o'er the map of England stray; Ah! on the too, too interesting land
How bends thy Annise her intense survey !
And now she smiles, and to her brother turns,
Her finger placed on Lichfield !—there,she says, There is our dear, dear father!--0! how yearns
My very soul to mark their ardent gaze ! Frequent, this killing absence to beguile,
Anxious I watch, as traits of thee arise ; I see them playing in my Annise' smile,
I meet them in thy Frederic's candid eyes. Their strengthen'd bloom, their much expanded
mind Shall recompense my beauty's vanish'd trace ; Yes, thou wilt love me more when thou shalt find
Thy absence written on my faded face. Dearest, farewell!—though misery now be ours,
Slow time will bring the reuniting day, When thou, and joy shall bless these lonely bowers, By sweet excess o'erpaying long delay.
WRITTEN AT SEA. On sapphire throne, o'er heaven's unnumber'd
fires, The moon in full-orb'd majesty presides; Calm are the seas, a favouring breeze transpires, And through the waves the vessel smoothly
glides : Beyond the horizon's bound the mind extends, To the sought shores where Hope delusive
leads : Soothed by the scene, her tortures grief suspends
For absent kindred, friends, and native meads.
Till sympathy from brooding memory's stores Culls thorns, and plants them in the bleeding
breast; Sunk into gloom the mind no more explores
Hope's future dawn, and pants in vain for rest. What though the seas are calm, the skies serene,'
Thus anguish dictates the desponding strain : To friendship fear presents a gloomier scene,
The whirlwind's fury and tempestuous main. • Even now, perhaps, from many a kindred eye
My dubious fate compels the generous tear, And every passing cloud that veils the sky Chills some fond anxious breast with boding
“In my love's bosom deeper sorrows roll, Frantic with dread she sighs, implores, she
raves, Whilst horror paints me to her sickening soul Dash'd on a rock, o'erwhelm'd beneath the
Father of heaven,whose power controls the storms,
O let thy mercy hear a wanderer's prayer! Check the wild fears connubial fondness forms,
And save the tender mourner from despair.
For me, whate'er thy sovereign will shall doom,
Still give me faith to bear that lot resign'd: That faith which, smiling, courts the dreary tomb, And, heaven-aspiring, sooths the’afflicted mind.
REV, G. HUDDISFORD.
The sailor sighs as sinks his native shore,
And all its lessening turrets bluely fade ; He climbs the mast to feast his eye once more,
And busy Fancy fondly lends her aid. Ah! now, each dear domestic scene he knew,
Recall'd and cherish'd in a foreign clime, Charms with the magic of a moonlight view,
Its colours mellow'd, not impair'd, by time. True as the needle, homeward points his heart,
Through all the horrors of the stormy main ; This, the last wish with which its warmth could
part, To meet the smile of her he loves again. When morn first faintly draws her silver line,
Or eve's gray cloud descends to drink the wave; When sea and sky in midnight darkness join,
Still, still he views the parting look she gave. Her gentle spirit, lightly hovering o'er,
Attends his little bark from pole to pole ; And, when the beating billows round him roar,
Whispers sweet hope to soothe bis troubled soul. Carved is her name in many a spicy grove,
In many a plantain forest waving wide; Where dusky youths in painted plumage rove,
And giant palms o'erarch the yellow tide.