THE PICTURE.' FRAGMENT XXIII, I. DEAR shade of him my heart holds more than dear, Author of all that fond heart's purest bliss, Dear shade, I hail thee with a rapturous tear, And welcome thee with many a tender kiss. II. Beneath each mimic tint still let me find Each dear remember'd feature, each lov'd trait, Each emanation of that ardent mind That lent reflection's power, or fancy's ray. 1 A miniature likeness of my FATHER! III. Oh yes! this brow is his, broad, candid, fair, That speaks the true, the guileless, honest soul; But o'er the spotless transcript morbid Care And Time (of late) their withering fingers stole. IV. And this th' expressive eye, whose glance I've woo'd, For sure beneath that glance each task seem'd light; Dear eye, how oft with tears of fondness dew'd I've seen thy humid beam shine mildly bright! V. But, painter, far above thy wond'rous art Were those dear lips, those lips where ever play'd The smile benignant! where the honest heart In undisguis'd effusions careless stray'd. VI. Where oft for me the fond endearment glow'd, Slow to reprove, but ever prompt to praise; Where oft for me the anxious counsel flow'd, The moral precept, or amusive lays. VII. These shoulders too I've climb'd to steal a kiss, These locks my infant hands have oft carest; How oft these arms I've fill'd, and shared the bliss With her (to me) the dearest and the best! VIII. Yes, the twin objects of a father's care, A mother's loss we rather knew than felt; Twin objects of that father's every prayer, In whom his thoughts, his hopes, his wishes dwelt. IX. Then come, his second self, nor trust me more; Thou true and lov'd resemblance, shall we part? For till my heart's last vital thrill is o'er, Dear shade, I'll wear thee next that beating heart. FRAGMENT XXIV. To him who said, "You live only for the World." "Vivons pour nous Que l'amitie qui nous unie Nous tiens lieu du monde." VOLTAIRE. L OH! no-I live not for the throng Thou seest me mingle oft among, By fashion driven. Yet one may snatch in this same world Of noise and din, where one is hurl'd, Some glimpse of heaven! |