romantic poems

LIB . II. Ode IV.— CLASSICAL LOVE MATCHES .

Odeem not thy love for a captive maid
Doth, Phoceus, the heart of a Roman degrade!
Like the noble Achilles, 'tis simply, simply,
With a “Briseis” thou sharest thy bed.

Ajax of Telamon did the same,
Felt in his bosom a Phrygian flame;
Taught to contemn none, King Agamemnon
Fond of a Trojan slave became.
Such was the rule with the Greeks of old,
When they had conquer'd the foe's stronghold;
When gallant Hector—Troy's protector—
Falling, the knell of Ilion toll'd.

ODE XXX.— THE DEDICATION OF GLYCERA'S CHAPEL .

O Venus! Queen of Cyprus isle,
Of Paphos and of Gnidus,
Hie from thy favourite haunts awhile,
And make abode amid us;
Glycera's altar for thee smokes,
With frankincense sweet-smelling—
Thee, while the charming maid invokes,
Hie to her lovely dwelling!

Let yon bright Boy, whose hand hath grasped
Love's blazing torch, precede thee,
While gliding on, with zone unclasped,
The sister Graces lead thee:
Nor be thy Nymph-attendants missed:

To the Summer Haunt of Laura.

Sweet fountain of Vaucluse!
The virgin freshness of whose crystal bed
The ladye, idol of my soul! hath led
Within thy wave her fairy bath to choose!
And thou, O favourite tree!
Whose branches she loved best
To shade her hour of rest —
Her own dear native land's green mulberry!
Roses, whose earliest bud

I am the Nymph Confidence : —
I drive away distrust and doubt,
That into homes like serpents crawl;
And jealousy, that coils about
The heart and turns the blood to gall.
Mine are the true and loving eyes,
Through which one looks in on the Soul,
The loyal troth that Time defies,
The faith that can mistrust control.
Here I abide, a constant guest,
With Peace and Love, and sweet Content;
By us this home shall still be blest,
Beyond the reach of accident.

I am the life of the household,
The Love of the husband and wife,
The love between parents and children,
The love that is dearer than life.
Eyes by me lighted grow brighter,
Hearts by me warmed are glad,
Homes where I live are lighter,
And sorrowing souls less sad.
When the bridal flowers have withered,
I do not pine away,
My flowers bloom and are gathered
In November as in May.
They fade not, this home perfuming,
As they did so long ago
Here they shall still be blooming,

SLEEP.

But come to me, O Sleep! I love thy spell,
Although thy waving mirror hath no power
To stay the visions of the midnight hour,
Or, like the certain shapes of day, compel
The forms that haunt the shade of memory's cell
To stand before me. Come and bring thy dreams!
I love to see the dim and wavering gleams,
As journeying downward to thy mystic dell,
I stand beside thy deep and shadowy lake;
Still let me come and wander at thy will,
Through summer woods, by stream and sunny hill,

Old Time is a pilgrim — with onward course
He journeys for months, for years;
But the trav'ller to-day must halt perforce —
Behold, a broad river appears!
" Pass me over, " Time cried; " O! tarry not,
For I count each hour with my glass:
Ye whose skiff is moored to yon pleasant spot —
Young maidens, old Time come pass! "

Many maids saw with pity, upon the bank,
The old man with his glass in grief;
Their kindness, he said, he would ever thank,
If they'd row him across in their skiff.

O! 'twas all but a dream at the best —
And still when happiest, soonest o'er:
But e'en in a dream to be blest
Is so sweet, that I ask for no more!
The bosom that opes
With earliest hopes
The soonest finds those hopes untrue;
Like flowers that first
In spring-time burst,
The soonest wither too!
Oh, 'twas all but, &c.

By friendship we've oft been deceived,
And love, even love, too soon is past;
But friendship will still be believed,
And love trusted on to the last;

Now in the chapel, ye shall understand,
When sat those knights and ladies, gazing all
On one another, ranged on either hand,
Ere that the chants began, it did befall
That Mano cast his eyes on Blanche the Fair;
And of a bitter love became the thrall;
Oh, bitterly love's thrall, Oh, then and there
So that, although erewhile to Italy
He had been purposed swiftly to repair,
His mind was changed, and he gan secretly
Devise to tarry longer in that place:
Which was his first fall from integrity

G ENTIE , but generous, modest, pure, and learned,
Ready to hear the fool, or teach the wise,
With gracious heart that all within him burned
To wipe the tears from virtue's blessed eyes,
And help again the struggling right to rise,
Such an one, like a god, have I discerned
Walking in goodness this polluted earth,
And cannot choose but love him: to my soul,
Swayed irresistibly with sweet control,
So rare and noble seems thy precious worth,
That the young fibres of my happier heart,