Εικόνες σελίδας
PDF
Ηλεκτρ. έκδοση
[merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

I therefore do not so bemoan,
Though these beseeming tears I drop,
The loss of my beloved one
As they that are deprived of hope;
But in expressing of my grief
My heart receiveth some relief,
And joyeth in the good I had,
Although my sweets are bitter made.

Lord, keep me faithful to the trust
Which my dear spouse reposed in me!
To him now dead preserve me just
In all that should performed be;

For though our being man and wife Extendeth only to this life,

Yet neither life nor death should end The being of a faithful friend.

Those helps which I through him enjoyed,

Let Thy continual aid supply -
That, though some hopes in him

void,

I always may on Thee rely;

And whether I shall wed again, Or in a single state remain,

Unto Thine honor let it be, And for a blessing unto me.

FOR A SERVANT.

DISCOURAGE not thyself, my soul,
Nor murmur, though compelled we be
To live subjected to control!
When many others may be free;
For though the pride of some dis
dains

Our mean and much despised lot,
We shall not lose our honest pains,
Nor shall our sufferance be forgot.

To be a servant is not base,
If baseness be not in the mind,
For servants make but good the place,
Whereto their Maker them assigned:
The greatest princes do no more,
And if sincerely I obey,
Though I am now despised and poor,
I shall become as great as they.

The Lord of heaven and earth was pleased

A servant's form to undertake;
By His endurance I am eased,
And serve with gladness for His sake:
Though checked unjustly I should be,
With silence I reproofs will bear,
For much more injuréd was He
Whose deeds most worthy praises

were.

He was reviled, yet naught replied,
And I will imitate the same;
For though some faults may be de
nied,

are In part I always faulty am:

Content with meek and humble heart,
I will abide in my degree,
And act an humble servant's part,
Till God shall call me to be free.

JOHN WOLCOT (PETER PINDAR).

TO MY CANDLE.

THOU lone companion of the spectred night!

I wake amid thy friendly watchful light.

To steal a precious hour from lifeless sleep.

Hark, the wild uproar of the winds! and hark! [the dark, Hell's genius roams the regions of And swells the thundering horrors of the deep!

From cloud to cloud the pale moon hurrying flies,

Now blackened, and now flashing through the skies; [beam. But all is silence here, beneath thy I own I labor for the voice of praiseFor who would sink in dull oblivion's stream?

Who would not live in songs of distant days?

[blocks in formation]

TO MARY.

CHARLES WOLFE.

IF I had thought thou couldst have died,

I might not weep for thee; But I forgot, when by thy side,

That thou couldst mortal be: It never through my mind had passed The time would e'er be o'er, And I on thee should look my last, And thou shouldst smile no more!

And still upon that face I look,

And think 'twill smile again; And still the thought I will not brook, That I must look in vain! But when I speak, thou dost not say What thou ne'er left'st unsaid;

And now I feel, as well I may,
Sweet Mary! thou art dead!

If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art,
All cold and all serene

I still might press thy silent heart,

And where thy smiles have been! While e'en thy chill, bleak corpse I have,

Thou seemest still mine own;
But there I lay thee in thy grave -
And I am now alone!

I do not think, where'er thou art,
Thou hast forgotten me;
And I, perhaps, may soothe this
heart,

In thinking too of thee:

Yet there was round thee such a dawn
Of light ne'er seen before,
As fancy never could have drawn,
And never can restore!

BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE.

But little he'll reck, if they let him

sleep on

In the grave where a Briton has laid him!

But half of our heavy task was done, When the clock struck the hour for retiring;

NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral And we heard the distant and ran

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

GO, FORGET ME.

Go, forget me-why should sorrow O'er that brow a shadow fling? Go, forget me- and to-morrow

Brightly smile and sweetly sing. Smile though I shall not be near thee,

Sing, though I shall never hear thee; May thy soul with pleasure shine Lasting as the gloom of mine.

Like the sun, thy presence glowing, Clothes the meanest things in light; And when thou, like him, art going, Loveliest objects fade in night.

All things looked so bright about thee,

That they nothing seem without thee;

By that pure and lucid mind Earthly things were too, refined. Go, thou vision, wildly gleaming,

Softly on my soul that fell; Go, for me no longer beaming Hope and Beauty! fare ye well! Go, and all that once delighted Take, and leave me all benightedGlory's burning, generous swell Fancy, and the poet's shell.

[blocks in formation]

[From Lines Composed a Few Miles Above | In hours of weariness, sensations

Tintern Abbey.]

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

His little, nameless, unremembered [From Lines Composed a Few Miles Above

acts

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]

Tintern Abbey.

APOSTROPHE TO THE POET'S SISTER.

THOU art with me, here, upon the banks

Of this fair river; thou, my dearest friend,

My dear, dear friend, and in thy voice I catch

The language of my former heart, and read

My former pleasures in the shooting lights

Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while

May I behold in thee what I was once,

My dear, dear sister! And this prayer I make,

Knowing that Nature never did betray

The heart that loved her: 'tis her privilege,

Through all the years of this our life, to lead

From joy to joy: for she can so inform

The mind that is within us, so impress

With quietness and beauty, and so feed

With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,

Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,

Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all

The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb

Our cheerful faith that all which we behold Is full of blessings. the moon

Therefore let

Shine on thee in thy solitary walk; And let the misty mountain winds be free

To blow against thee: and, in after years,

When these wild ecstasies shall be matured

Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind

« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »