« AnteriorContinuar »
In the pleasures the great man's possessions display,
Unenvied, I'll challenge my part;
Contributes to gladden my heart.
How vainly, through infinite trouble and strife,
Do many their labours employ, Since all that is truly delightful in life
Is what all, if they will, may enjoy.
ROSE OF THIS ENCHANTED VALE.
Rose of this enchanted vale,
Why so lone and mournful;
Why so chill and scornful.
“ Sleep his lid is steeping, I am but a captive maid,
The rose's slumbers keeping.
Go! I fear that o'er his ear
Our heedless tones are creepingGo! nor let one accent fall,
His charming dreams dispelling, Go! 'tis sacred stillness all
Thro' our mossy dwelling."
But, tho' free to roam at
Youthful hopes impelling, I would be a captive still
In my rose's dwelling,
In breathless bliss I ponder;
Makes my senses wander. 1:7; *pasty
I'm of thraldom fonder.! Go! nor let one accent fall,
His charmed dreams dispellingen Go! 'tis sacred stillness;ally bis!
Thro' our mossy dwellings
FOR MANY A WISTFUL HOUR TO PITY DEAR.
For many a wistful hour to pity dear,
* These truly affecting lines, which we present to our readers, were discovered penciled on the shutter of a window in a room in Enniskillen, Ire land.
Whose heart alone, though broken, to conceal,
FAREWELL, O SWEET HOPE!
Farewell, oh sweet hope! I have wept thee in sadness,
Thy bright star illumin'd life's gloomiest day: It rose on my soul like an angel of gladness,
And smild the dark clouds of misfortune away:
In youth every prospect by pleasure was bounded,
And joy was the portion that destiny gave; 'Twas puré as the lake by the mountains surrounded,
And warm as the sun-beam that danc'd on its waves
Thy visions were transient as mists of the morning,
They shone on my sight like the rainbow of eve; And the first tear of sorrow proclaim'd the sad warning,
Those visions were sent to betray and deceive
Peace, mild as the dew-drop descending at even,
Protected my bosom from sorrow and care,
When each object was stamp'd by the hand of despair.
O'er the flowers of happiness wither'd and blighted,
Fond memory lingers, and mourns their decay; For the blossoms thy warmth and thy splendour delighted,
Expir'd in the hour that beheld thy last ray.
THE CONTENTED SHEPHERD.
By the side of a mountain, o'ershadow'd with trees,
With thick clusters of vine, intermingl’d and wove, I behold my thatch'd cottage, dear mansion of ease,
The seat of contentment, of friendship, and love.