In lines of fire such heavenly lore,
That man should read them and adore
Yet have I known a gentle maid
Whose early charms were just array'd
In Nature's loveliness like thine,
And wore that clear, celestial sign,
Which seems to mark the brow that's fair
For Destiny's peculiar care!
Whose bosom, too, was once a zone,
Where the bright gem of virtue shone;
Whose eyes were talismans of fire
Against the power of mad desire!
Yet, hapless girl, in one sad hour,
Her charms have shed their radiant flower;
The gem has been beguil'd away;
Her eyes have lost their chastening ray;
The simple fear, the guiltless shame,
The smiles that from reflection came,
All, all have fled, and left her mind
A faded monument behind!
Like some wave-beaten, mouldering stone,
To Memory rais'd by hands unknown,
Which, many a wintery hour, has stood
Beside the ford of Tyra's flood,
To tell the traveller, as he crost,
That there some lovéd friend was lost!
Oh! 'twas a sight I wept to see-
Heaven keep the lost-one's fate from thee!
AWAY, away-you're all the same,
A fluttering, smiling, jilting throng!
Oh! by my soul, I burn with shame,
To think I've been your slave so long!
Still panting o'er a crowd to reign,
More joy it gives to woman's breast
To make ten frigid coxcombs vain,
Than one true manly lover blest!
Away, away-your smile's a curse-
Oh! blot me from the race of men,
Kind pitying Heaven! by death or worse,
Before I love such things again!
COME, take the harp-'tis vain to muse
Upon the gathering ills we see;
Oh! take the harp and let me lose
All thoughts of ill in hearing thee!
Sing to me, love!-though death were near,
Thy song could make my soul forget-
Nay, nay, in pity, dry that tear,
All may be well, be happy yet!
Let me but see that snowy arm
Once more upon the dear harp lie,
And I will cease to dream of harm,
Will smile at fate, while thou art nigh!
Give me that strain, of mournful touch,
We us'd to love long, long ago,
Before our hearts had known as much
As now, alas! they bleed to know!
Sweet notes! they tell of former peace,
Of all, that look'd so rapturous then,
Now wither'd, lost-oh! pray thee, cease,
I cannot bear those sounds again!
Art thou, too, wretched? yes, thou art;
I see thy tears flow fast with mine-
Come, come to this devoted heart,
'Tis breaking, but it still is thine!
A VISION OF PHILOSOPHY.
"TWAS on the Red Sea coast, at morn, we met
The venerable man; a virgin bloom
Of softness mingled with the vigorous thought
That tower'd upon his brow; as when we see
The gentle moon and the full radiant sun
Shining in heaven together. When he spoke
'Twas language sweeten'd into song-such holy sounds As oft the spirit of the good man hears,
Prelusive to the harmony of heaven,
When death is nigh! and still, as he unclos'd
His sacred lips, an odour, all as bland
As ocean-breezes gather from the flowers
That blossom in Elysium, breath'd around!
With silent awe we listen'd, while he told
Of the dark veil, which many an age had hung
O'er Nature's form, till by the touch of time
The mystic shroud grew thin and luminous,
And half the goddess beam'd in glimpses through it!
Of magic wonders, that were known and taught
By him (or Cham or Zoroaster named)
Who mus'd, amid the mighty cataclysm,
O'er his rude tablets of primeval lore,*
Nor let the living star of science sink
Beneath the waters, which ingulph'd the world !-
Of visions, by Calliope reveal'd
To him, who trac'd upon his typic lyre
The diapason of man's mingled frame,
And the grand Doric heptachord of heaven!
With all of pure, of wonderous and arcane,
Which the grave sons of Mochus, many a night,
Told to the young and bright-hair'd visitant
Of Carmel's sacred mount!t-Then, in a flow
Of calmer converse, he beguil'd us on
Through many a maze of garden and of porch,
Through many a system, where the scatter'd light
Of heavenly truth lay, like a broken beam
From the pure sun, which, though refracted all
Into a thousand hues, is sunshine still,
And bright through every change!-he spoke of Him,
The lone, eternal One, who dwells above,
And of the soul's untraceable descent
From that high fount of spirit, through the grades
Of intellectual being, till it mix
With atoms vague, corruptible, and dark;
Nor even then, though sunk in earthly dross,
Corrupted all, nor its ethereal touch
Quite lost, but tasting of the fountain still!
As some bright river, which has roll'd along
Through meads of flowery light and mines of gold,
When pour'd at length into the dusky deep,
Disdains to mingle with its briny taint,
But keeps awhile the pure and golden tinge,
The balmy freshness of the fields it left!
*Cham, the son of Noah, is supposed to have taken with him into the ark the principal doctrines of magical, or rather of natural science, which he had inscribed upon some very durable substances, in order that they might resist the ravages of the deluge, and transmit the secrets of antediluvian knowledge to his posterity.
Pythagoras is represented in Jamblichus as descending with great solemnity from Mount Carmel, for which reason the Carmelites have claimed him as one of their fraternity. This Mochus or Moschus, with the descendants of whom Pythagoras conversed in Phoenicia, and from whom he derived the doctrines of atomic philosophy, is supposed by some to be the same with Moses.
And here the old man ceased-a winged train
Of nymphs and genii led him from our eyes.
The fair illusion fled! and, as I wak'd,
I knew my visionary soul had been
Among that people of aerial dreams
Who live upon the burning galaxy!*
THE world had just begun to steal
Each hope, that led me lightly on,
I felt not, as I us'd to feel,
And life grew dark and love was gone!
No eye to mingle sorrow's tear,
No lip to mingle pleasure's breath,
No tongue to call me kind and dear-
"Twas gloomy, and I wish'd for death!
But when I saw that gentle eye,
Oh! something seem'd to tell me then,
That I was yet too young to die,
And hope and bliss might bloom again!
With every beamy smile, that crost
Your kindling cheek, you lighted home
Some feeling, which my heart had lost,
And peace, which long had learn'd to roam!
"Twas then indeed so sweet to live,
Hope look'd so new and love so kind,
That, though I weep, I still forgive
The ruin, which they've left behind!
I could have lov'd you-oh so well!-
The dream, that wishing boyhood knows,
Is but a bright, beguiling spell,
Which only lives while passion glows:
But, when this early flush declines,
When the heart's vivid morning fleets,
You know not then how close it twines
Round the first kindred soul it meets!
Yes, yes, I could have lov'd, as one
Who, while his youth's enchantments fall,
Finds something dear to rest upon,
Which pays him for the loss of all!
According to Pythagoras, the People of Dreams are souls collected together in the galaxy.
To see thee every day that came,
And find thee every day the same,
In pleasure's smile or sorrow's tear
Benign, consoling, ever dear!
To meet thee early, leave thee late,
Had been so long my bliss, my fate,
That life, without this cheering ray,
Which came, like sunshine, every day,
And all my pain, my sorrow chac'd,
Is now a lone and loveless waste.--
Where are the chords she us'd to touch?
Where are the songs she lov'd so much?
The songs are hush'd, the chords are still,
And so, perhaps, will every thrill
Of friendship soon be lull'd to rest,
Which late I wak'd in Anna's breast!
Yet no-the simple notes I play'd
On memory's tablet soon may fade;
The songs, which Anna lov'd to hear,
May all be lost on Anna's ear;
But friendship's sweet and fairy strain
Shall ever in her heart remain ;
Nor memory lose nor time impair
The sympathies which tremble there!
ON AN OLD RING FOUND AT TUNBRIDGE WELLS.
'Tunnebrige est à la même distance de Londres que Fontainebleau l'est de Paris. Ce qu'il y à de beau et de galant dans l'un et dans l'autre sèxe s'y rassemble au tems des eaux. La compagnie, &c., &c."-See Mémoires de Grammont, second part, chap. iii.
TUNBRIDGE WELLS, August 1805.
WHEN Grammont grac'd these happy springs,
And Tunbridge saw, upon her Pantiles,
The merriest wight of all the kings
That ever rul'd these gay, gallant isles;
Like us, by day, they rode, they walk'd,
At eve they did as we may do,
Aud Grammont just like Spencer talk'd
And lovely Stewart smil'd like you!
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