Now sunk in dumb despondence on the thorn,
Where nightly perched she pours her solemn lay,
Sad Philomel beholds the gradual morn,
Bright and yet brighter, kindle into day.
Sweet child of sorrow! with regret, like thine,
I too yon gold, that skirts the dapple, see;
No joy the gleams, that now more ruddy shine,
Dear as the joy that flies them, bring to me.
Yet then again, ye slumbers, o'er my eyes
Descending, soothe my troubled soul to rest;
And yet again, ye pleasing visions rise,
In all my Delia's gentler graces drest.
And tho' through every semblance ye can range,
Well might ye chuse my Delia's form to wear;
Secure, that to no lovelier ye can change,
No mien more graceful, and no face more fair.
In vain I call: obedient to my will,
No visions rise, no slumbers o'er me creep,
And now in glory from yon eastern hill,
The sun ascending bids me wake to weep.
Ah! gentle sun! so will I bless thy beams,
Tho' thy return but grief returning brings-
With cautious reverence steal, where hovering dreams
O'er Delia's pillow wave their busy wings.
O! could I stand with trembling duty nigh
To guard, and guarding gaze upon the maid,
No ruder ray should there intrude, no fly
With murmuring error her repose invade.
And if, while thus I gazed, upon her cheek
One smile of haughty scorn should haply dawn;
And if one amorous sigh should haply break,
Deep from the involuntary bosom drawn:
Now, would I cry, she proudly feigns to smile
While at her feet I seem my suit to press;
Now ill concealed by many a female wile,
Her mutual love those amorous sighs confess.
And can I thus the flattering tale believe,
Which hope, too ready, whispers in my ear?
And can I thus this simple heart deceive,
That still my Delia holds my memory dear?
She now can wander in the conscious grove,
Nor think, how there I wander'd by her side;
In dreams her fancy now can freely rove,
Nor hear me talk, nor see my image glide.
Yet be she false; her falsehood shall but show,
How fixed the firm foundation of my truth,
For her alone I nurse perpetual woe;
For her, in silence drooping, waste my youth.
For her, where lingering on in many a maze
Their humid train the waves of Isis wreathe,
The tuneful sorrows of these tender lays,
With many a hope, and many a fear, I breathe:
And oft the while, my head in grief declined,
Wistful I raise to watch the journeying sun;
Sigh as I mark the distance yet behind,
And bid his westering wheels more swiftly run.
Then fondly kind in visionary charms
Propitious night my Delia may restore;
Then I again may fold her in these arms;
O be the vision true!--I ask no more.
Sent to the Duc de Nivernois, with a Lock of her grey Hair, by Madame de Mirepoix.
FROM THE FRENCH.
Look, they are grey-but turn'd to grey
These locks our union's date attest;
Poor spoils that Age can tear away,
Which leaves us yet in friendship blest.
No change in friendship's star appears,
Whose lustre, as in early prime,
Shines in the winter of our years,
Kindled by choice, and fed by time.
No more the world our flame reproving,
Shall force our bosoms to repress it;
Grey hairs, besides the charm of loving,
Allow the freedom to confess it.
CONGRATULATORY VERSES
On the Marriage of Frederic, Prince of Wales, with the Princess of Saxe Gotha.
WHEN pious frauds and holy pride no more
Could hold that empire, which so long they bore;
From fair Germania's states the truth began
To gleam, and shed her heavenly light on man:
TO FREDERIC first, the Saxon Prince, 'twas given,
To nurse and cherish this best gift of heaven.
Its growth, whilst young and tender, was his care;
To guard its blossoms from the inclement air :
And dying," Mayst thou flourish," was his prayer.
Again, when fair Religion now had spread
Her influence round, and raised her captived head,
When Charles and Rome their impious forces joined
To quench its light, and reinslave mankind;
Another FREDERIC † first appeared in arms,
To guard th' endangered blessing from alarms.
Ye heavens, what virtues with what courage join'd!
But join'd in vain !-See vanquish'd, and confin'd,
In the deep gloom, the pious hero lies;
And lifts to heaven his ever-streaming eyes.
There, spent with sorrows, as he sunk to rest,
(The public cause still lab'ring in his breast)
Behold, in slumber, to his view displayed,
Rose the first FREDERICK'S venerable shade!
Frederic, Elector of Saxony, the chief Protector of Luther and
the Protestant religion, died in the year 1520.
↑ John Frederic, nephew to the former, taken prisoner by Charles V. and despoiled of his Electorate by him in the year 1547.
His temples circled with a heavenly flame: The same his flowing robe; his look the same. "And art thou come ?" (the captive warrior cries) "What realms so long detained thee from our eyes? "After such wars, such deaths and horrors past, "Is our great Guardian Chief returned at last ? "Say from yon heaven, so long desired in vain, "Descends our hero to our aid again?
"Now when proud Rome, her standard wide unfurl'd, "Pours like a deluge o'er the trembling world; "Fierce, her disputed empire to restore, "And scourge mankind for ten dark ages more. "Like me, Religion wears the tyrant's chain ; "Prostrate like me, she bleeds at every vein: "Oh! must we never, never rise again?"
"Dismiss thy fears," (the reverend shade replies) "Be firm; be constant: and absolve the skies. "Dark are the ways of heaven: let man attend : "Soon will the regular confusion end. "Soon shall thy eyes a brighter scene survey: "Lo, the fleet hours already wing their way!) "When to thy native soil in peace restored, "Once more shall Gotha see her lawful Lord. "True to religion, each successive son "Shall aid the cause their generous sires begun. "Even now I look thro' Fate. O glorious sight! "I see thy offspring, as they rise to light. "What benefits to man! what lights divine! "What heroes, and what saints, adorn the line! "And oh! to crown the scene, my joyful eyes "Behold from far, a princely virgin rise! "This, this is She, the smiling Fates ordain "To bring the bright primeval times again!
"The fair AUGUSTA!-Graced with blooming charms, "Reserved to bless a British Prince's arms.
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