« PředchozíPokračovat »
FROM THE TURKISH.
The chain I gave was fair to view,
The lute I added sweet in sound; The heart that offer'd both was true,
And ill deserved the fate it found.
These gifts were charm’d by secret spell
Thy truth in absence to divine; And they have done their duty well,
Alas! they could not teach thee thine.
That chain was firm in every link,
But not to bear a stranger's touch; That lute was sweet-till thou could'st think
In other hands its notes were such.
Let him, who from thy neck unbound
The chain which shiver'd in his grasp, Who saw that lute refuse to sound,
Restring the chords, renew the clasp. VOL. III.
When thou wert changed, they alter'd too;
The chain is broke, the music mute: 'Tis past to them and thee adieu
False heart, frail chain, and silent lute.
THINE eyes' blue tenderness, thy long fair hair,
And the wan lustre of thy features caught
From contemplation, where serenely wrought, Seems Sorrow's softness charm'd from its despairHave thrown such speaking sadness in thine air,
That-but I know thy blessed bosom fraught
With mines of unalloy'd and stainless thought I should have deem'd thee doom'd to earthly care. With such an aspect, by his colours blent,
When from his beauty-breathing pencil born, (Except that thou hast nothing to repent)
The Magdalen of Guido saw the morn-
With nought Remorse can claim_nor Virtue scorn.
Thy cheek is, pale with thought, but not from woe
And yet so lovely, that if Mirth could flush
Its rose of whiteness with the brightest blush, My heart would wish away that ruder glow : And dazzle not thy deep-blue eyes—but oh!
While gazing on them sterner eyes will gush,
And into mine my mother's weakness rush, Soft as the last drops round heaven's airy bow. For, through thy long dark lashes low depending,
The soul of melancholy Gentleness
Above all pain, yet pitying all distress ;
I worship more, but cannot love thee less
ON THE MONUMENT OF A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.
When some proud son of man returns to earth,
Newstead Abbey, Oct. 30, 1808.