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LOVE AND MARRIAGE.

Eque brevi verbo ferre perenne malum.
Secundus, Eleg. vii.

STILL the question I must parry,
Still a wayward truant prove :
Where I love, I must not marry,
Where I marry, cannot love.

Were she fairest of creation,
With the least presuming mind;
Learned without affectation;

Not deceitful, yet refined;

Wise enough, but never rigid;
Gay, but not too lightly free;
Chaste as snow, and yet not frigid;
Warm, yet satisfied with me:

Were she all this, ten times over,

All that Heaven to earth allows,
I should be too much her lover
Ever to become her spouse.

Love will never bear enslaving;
Summer garments suit him best:
Bliss itself is not worth having,
If we're by compulsion blest.

ANACREONTIC.

FRIEND of my soul! this goblet sip,
"Twill chase that pensive tear;
'Tis not so sweet as woman's lip,
But, oh! 'tis more sincere.
Like her delusive beam,
"Twill steal away thy mind;
But, like affection's dream,

It leaves no sting behind!

Come, twine the wreath thy brows to shade;
These flowers were culled at noon;-
Like woman's love the rose will fade,
But ah! not half so soon!

For though the flower's decayed,
Its fragrance is not o'er;
But once when love's betrayed,
The heart can bloom no more!

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TO MISS

ON HER ASKING THE AUTHOR WHY SHE HAD SLEEPLESS NIGHTS.

I'LL ask the sylph who round thee flies,
And in thy breath his pinion dips,
Who suns him in thy lucent eyes,
And faints upon thy sighing lips:

I'll ask him where's the veil of sleep
That used to shade thy looks of light;
And why those eyes their vigil keep,
When other suns are sunk in night.

And I will say-her angel breast

Has never throbbed with guilty sting;
Her bosom is the sweetest nest

Where Slumber could repose his wing!

And I will say-her cheeks of flame,
Which glow like roses in the sun,
Have never felt a blush of shame,
Except for what her eyes have done!

Then tell me why, thou child of air!

Does Slumber from her eyelids rove?
What is her heart's impassioned care?—
Perhaps, oh sylph! perhaps 'tis love!

TO ROSA.

A far conserva, e cumulo d' amanti.-Past. Fid.

AND are you then a thing of art,
Seducing all and loving none?
And have I strove to gain a heart
Which every coxcomb thinks his own?

And do you, like the dotard's fire,
Which, powerless of enjoying any,
Feeds its abortive sick desire,

By trifling impotent with many?

Do you thus seek to flirt a number,
And through a round of danglers run,
Because your heart's insipid slumber
Could never wake to feel for one?

Tell me at once if this be true,

And I shall calm my jealous breast;
Shall learn to join the dangling crew,
And share your simpers with the rest.

But if your heart be not so free,-
Oh! if another share that heart,
Tell not the damning tale to me,
But mingle mercy with your art.
I'd rather think you black as hell,
Than find you to be all divine,

And know that heart could love so well,
Yet know that heart would not be mine!

TO JULIA.

ON HER BIRTHDAY.

WHEN Time was entwining the garland of years,
Which to crown my beloved was given,

Though some of the leaves might be sullied with tears,
Yet the flowers were all gathered in heaven!

And long may this garland be sweet to the eye,
May its verdure for ever be new!

Young Love shall enrich it with many a sigh,
And pity shall nurse it with dew!

ELEGIAC STANZAS.

How sweetly could I lay my head
Within the cold grave's silent breast
Where Sorrow's tears no more are shed,
No more the ills of life molest!

For, ah! my heart, how very soon

The glittering dreams of youth are past

And, long before it reach its noon
The sun of life is overcast.

NONSENSE.

GOOD reader! if you e'er have seen,
When Phoebus hastens to his pillow,
The mermaids, with their tresses green,
Dancing upon the western billow:
If you have seen, at twilight dim,
When the lone spirit's vesper hymn

Floats wild along the winding shore:
If you have seen, through mist of eve,
The fairy train their ringlets weave,
Glancing along the spangled green ;—

If you have seen all this, and more,
God bless me! what a deal you've seen!

THE SURPRISE.

CHLORIS, I swear, by all I ever swore,

That from this hour I shall not love thee more. 'What! love no more? Oh! why this altered vow? Because I cannot love thee more-than now!

TO MRS.

ON HER BEAUTIFUL TRANSLATION OF VOITURE'S KISS.

Mon âme sur ma lèvre était lors toute entière,
Pour savourer le miel qui sur la vôtre était;
Mais en me retirant, elle resta derrière,

Tant de ce doux plaisir l'amorce l'arrêtoit!-Voit.

How heavenly was the poet's doom,
To breathe his spirit through a kiss ;
And lose within so sweet a tomb

The trembling messenger of bliss!

And, ah! his soul returned to feel
That it again could ravished be;
For in the kiss that thou didst steal,
His life and soul have fled to thee!

ON THE DEATH OF A LADY.

SWEET spirit! if thy airy sleep

Nor sees my tears, nor hears my sighs,
Oh! I will weep, in luxury weep,

Till the last heart's-drop fills mine eyes

But if thy sainted soul can feel,
And mingles in our misery,

Then, then, my breaking heart I'll seal-
Thou shalt not hear one sigh from me!

The beam of morn was on the stream,
But sullen clouds the day deform.
Thou wert, indeed, that morning beam,
And death, alas! that sullen storm.

Thou wert not formed for living here,
For thou wert kindred with the sky;

Yet, yet we held thee all so dear,

We thought thou wert not formed to die!

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