7. While my blood is thus warm To mix in the Platonists' school; Of this I am sure, Was my passion so pure, 8. And if I should shun Every woman for one, Whose image must fill my whole breastWhom I must prefer, And sigh but for her What an insult 't would be to the rest! 9. Now, Strephon, good bye; Your passion appears most absurd; Is pure love indeed, For it only consists in the word. THE TEAR. "O lachrymarum fons, tenero sacros Pectore te, pia Nympha, sensit."-Gray *. 1. WHEN Friendship or Love Our sympathies move, When Truth in a glance should appear, With a dimple or smile, 2. Too oft is a smile But the hypocrite's wile, Whilst the soul-telling eye Is dimm'd for a time with a Tear. 3. Mild Charity's glow, To us mortals below, Shows the soul from barbarity clear; Where this virtue is felt, And its dew is diffused in a Tear. * This motto was inserted in the first edition of Hours of Idle ness.-ED. 4. The man doom'd to sail With the blast of the gale, 5. The soldier braves death For a fanciful wreath In Glory's romantic career; But he raises the foe When in battle laid low, And bathes every wound with a Tear. 6. If with high-bounding pride He return to his bride, Renouncing the gore-crimson'd spear, All his toils are repaid When, embracing the maid, From her eyelid he kisses the Tear. 7. Sweet scene of my youth! Seat of Friendship and Truth, Where love chased each fast-fleeting year, Loth to leave thee, I mourn'd, For a last look I turn'd, But thy spire was scarce seen through a Tear. 8. Though my vows I can pour My Mary to Love once so dear, I remember the hour She rewarded those vows with a Tear, 9. By another possest, May she live ever blest! Her name still my heart must revere: What I once thought was mine, 10. Ye friends of my heart, Ere from you I depart, This hope to my breast is most near: In this rural retreat, May we meet, as we part, with a Tear. 11. When my soul wings her flight To the regions of night, * And my corse shall recline on its bier, * And my body shall sleep on its bier."-Private volume.—ED. As ye pass by the tomb Oh! moisten their dust with a Tear. 12. May no marble bestow The splendour of woe No fiction of fame Shall blazon my name, All I ask-all I wish-is a Tear. October 26, 1806. TO MISS 1. ELIZA, what fools are the Mussulman sect, Who to woman deny the soul's future existence; Could they see thee, Eliza, they'd own their defect, And this doctrine would meet with a general resistance. 2. Had their prophet possess'd half an atom of sense, With women alone he had peopled his heaven. * Found only in the private volume.-ED. |