To a Lady on the Death of Her Lover
Too true! that no more shall thy dark beaming eye
The dust of his coursers at distance descry,
When the Sun cheers the vallies so green.
No more shalt thou see him bound over the glades,
When Eve has spread broadly its slow gliding shades
And the Moon's milder lustre is seen.
No more o'er thy Balcony shalt thou delight,
His whispers to list whilst conceal'd by the night,
All heard, though the Breeze whistle round!
No more on thy odorous rose-border'd walk,
To hold thee, a moment bewitching, in talk,
Shall his steps in the Morning be found.
No more shall he open the quick moving gate,
And, Hope in his glance, and with air all elate,
Spring towards thee midst May's falling showers,
No more shalt thou watch whilst he lingers here, there,
To pluck from each shrub, to bedeck thy dark hair,
Groups of purple, and sweetly tinged, flowers.
No more shall the oval contour of thy face,
Where oft he perused thy Soul's varying grace,
With delight fill his ever closed eye!
Ah! never again shall thy Harp's dulcet string,
Whence perfectest skill bade the sweetest notes spring,
Force each care from his bosom to fly!
Yet, gentle loved Friend, though these blessings are o'er,
Soon sweet Consolations around thee shall pour,
And thy Sorrow no more heave its sighs.
Thy deep grief's great Excess will itself soon destroy,
Though long must it be e'er thy voice owns a joy
By degrees will mild Patience arise.
When at night midst thy walk, as thy sweet pious mind
The Will of thy God bids thee bow to resigned,
Whilst thy eye marks the sky's golden spheres,
Think that then he bends down from amidst their rich blaze,
The deep-graven troubles of Sorrow to raze,
And with Zephyrs disperses thy tears.
When the high Sun glides over the fields in full morn,
And pours fervid rays down by vapours unshorn,
And the universe glows in its pride,
Bethink thee thy Lover more lofty may be
Than yonder vast orb, yet thy beauties may see
And thy heavy repinings would chide!
Yet still would he have thee for ever be true,
And still would he ever be fixed in thy view,
Time making no lineament fade!
No Rival permitted th' affection to share,
Awaked but by Him , thou wert wont to declare,
Be it hallowed to him—now a Shade!
That Shade will be raptur'd to see thee so true,
And ever on watch to keep thee in his view
The pure Spirit will wave guardian wing!
When Joy lightens thy Heart, and thy Prospects are gay,
'Tis H E wakes thy joy, 'tis H E keeps far away
The griefs which misfortune would bring.
Not dead then thy Lover, not perish'd his Love,
His Frame breathes no more, yet, his Soul soars above.
To live pure in eternal bright day!
Then greet this blest thought—and Oh! be it repose!
That, as Death's burning fever through each vein arose,
Love triumphed—secured from Decay!
The dust of his coursers at distance descry,
When the Sun cheers the vallies so green.
No more shalt thou see him bound over the glades,
When Eve has spread broadly its slow gliding shades
And the Moon's milder lustre is seen.
No more o'er thy Balcony shalt thou delight,
His whispers to list whilst conceal'd by the night,
All heard, though the Breeze whistle round!
No more on thy odorous rose-border'd walk,
To hold thee, a moment bewitching, in talk,
Shall his steps in the Morning be found.
No more shall he open the quick moving gate,
And, Hope in his glance, and with air all elate,
Spring towards thee midst May's falling showers,
No more shalt thou watch whilst he lingers here, there,
To pluck from each shrub, to bedeck thy dark hair,
Groups of purple, and sweetly tinged, flowers.
No more shall the oval contour of thy face,
Where oft he perused thy Soul's varying grace,
With delight fill his ever closed eye!
Ah! never again shall thy Harp's dulcet string,
Whence perfectest skill bade the sweetest notes spring,
Force each care from his bosom to fly!
Yet, gentle loved Friend, though these blessings are o'er,
Soon sweet Consolations around thee shall pour,
And thy Sorrow no more heave its sighs.
Thy deep grief's great Excess will itself soon destroy,
Though long must it be e'er thy voice owns a joy
By degrees will mild Patience arise.
When at night midst thy walk, as thy sweet pious mind
The Will of thy God bids thee bow to resigned,
Whilst thy eye marks the sky's golden spheres,
Think that then he bends down from amidst their rich blaze,
The deep-graven troubles of Sorrow to raze,
And with Zephyrs disperses thy tears.
When the high Sun glides over the fields in full morn,
And pours fervid rays down by vapours unshorn,
And the universe glows in its pride,
Bethink thee thy Lover more lofty may be
Than yonder vast orb, yet thy beauties may see
And thy heavy repinings would chide!
Yet still would he have thee for ever be true,
And still would he ever be fixed in thy view,
Time making no lineament fade!
No Rival permitted th' affection to share,
Awaked but by Him , thou wert wont to declare,
Be it hallowed to him—now a Shade!
That Shade will be raptur'd to see thee so true,
And ever on watch to keep thee in his view
The pure Spirit will wave guardian wing!
When Joy lightens thy Heart, and thy Prospects are gay,
'Tis H E wakes thy joy, 'tis H E keeps far away
The griefs which misfortune would bring.
Not dead then thy Lover, not perish'd his Love,
His Frame breathes no more, yet, his Soul soars above.
To live pure in eternal bright day!
Then greet this blest thought—and Oh! be it repose!
That, as Death's burning fever through each vein arose,
Love triumphed—secured from Decay!
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