Fugitive Pieces | Page 3

of 15 and 17, their defects will be pardoned
or forgotten, in the youth and inexperience of the WRITER.

FUGITIVE PIECES.

ON LEAVING N--ST--D.
Through the cracks in these battlements loud the winds whistle, For the
hall of my fathers is gone to decay;
And in yon once gay garden the
hemlock and thistle
Have choak'd up the rose, which late bloom'd in
the way.
Of the barons of old, who once proudly to battle
Led their vassals
from Europe to Palestine's plain;
The escutcheon and shield, which
with ev'ry blast rattle, Are the only sad vestiges now that remain.
No more does old Robert, with harp-stringing numbers,
Raise a flame
in the breast, for the war laurell'd wreath, Near Askalon's Towers John
of Horiston[1] slumbers,
Unnerv'd is the hand of his minstrel by

death.
Paul and Hubert too sleep in the valley of Cressy,
For the safety of
Edward and ENGLAND they fell,
My fathers! the tears of your
country redress ye,
How you fought! how you died! still her annals
can tell.
On [2]Marston with Rupert[3] 'gainst traitors contending, Four
Brothers enrich'd with their blood the bleak field For Charles the
Martyr their country defending,
Till death their attachment to royalty
scal'd.
Shades of heroes farewell! your descendant departing,
From the seat
of his ancestors, bids ye adieu!
Abroad, or at home, your
remembrance imparting
New courage, he'll think upon glory, and
you.
Though a tear dims his eye at this sad separation,
'Tis nature, not fear,
which commands his regret;
Far distant he goes with the same
emulation,
In the grave, he alone can his fathers forget.
Your fame, and your memory, still will he cherish,
He vows that he
ne'er will disgrace your renown;
Like you will he live, or like you
will he perish,
When decay'd, may he mingle his dust with your own.
1803.
[Footnote 1: Horiston Castle, in Derbyshire, an ancient seat of the
B--r--n family.]
[Footnote 2: The battle of Marston Moor, where the adherents of
CHARLES I. were defeated.]
[Footnote 3: Son of the Elector Palatine, and related to CHARLES I.
He afterwards commanded the Fleet, in the Reign of CHARLES II.]

TO E----.
Let Folly smile, to view the names
Of thee and me in friendship
twin'd,
Yet virtue will have greater claims
To love, than rank with
vice combin'd.
And though unequal is thy fate,
Since title deck'd my higher birth;

Yet envy not this gaudy state,
Thine is the pride of modest worth.
Our souls at least congenial meet,
Nor can thy_ lot _my rank disgrace;

Our intercourse is not less sweet,
Since worth of rank supplies the
place.
November, 1802.

ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY, COUSIN TO THE
AUTHOR AND VERY DEAR TO HIM.

Hush'd are the winds, and still the evening gloom,
Not e'en a zephyr
wanders through the grove,
Whilst I return to view my Margaret's
tomb,
And scatter flowers on the dust I love.
2.
Within this narrow cell reclines her clay,
That clay where once such
animation beam'd;
The king of terrors seiz'd her as his prey,
Not
worth, nor beauty, have her life redeem'd.
3.
Oh! could that king of terrors pity feel,
Or Heaven reverse the dread
decree of fate,
Not here the mourner would his grief reveal,
Not
here the muse her virtues would relate.

4.
But wherefore weep! her matchless spirit soars,
Beyond where
aplendid shines the orb of day.
And weeping angels lead her to those
bowers,
Where endless pleasures virtuous deeds repay.
5.
And shall presumptuous mortals Heaven arraign!
And madly
God-like Providence accuse!
Ah! no far fly from me attempts so vain,

I'll ne'er submission to my God refuse.
6.
Yet is remembrance of those virtues dear,
Yet fresh the memory of
that beauteous face;
Still they call forth my warm affection's tear.

Such sorrow brings me honour, not disgrace.[4]
1802.
[Footnote 4: The Author claims the indulgence of the reader, more for
this piece, than, perhaps, any other in the collection; but as it was
written at an earlier period than the rest, (being composed at the age of
14) and his first Essay, be preferred submitting it to the indulgence of
his friends in its present state, to making either addition or alteration.]

TO D. ----
In thee, I fondly hop'd to clasp,
A friend whom death alone could
sever,
But envy with malignant grasp,
Has torn thee from my breast
for ever.
2.
True, she has forc'd thee from my breast,
But in my heart thou
keep'st thy seat;
There, there, thine image still must rest,
Until that

heart shall cease to beat.
3.
And when the grave restores her dead,
When life again to dust is
given,
On thy dear breast I'll lay my head,
Without thee_! _where_
would be _my Heaven?
February, 1803.

TO ----
Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes,
Suffus'd in tears implore to
stay;
And heard unmov'd, thy plenteous sighs,
Which said far more
than words could say.
Though deep the grief, thy tears exprest,
When love, and hope, lay
both o'erthrown,
Yet still, my girl, this bleeding breast,
Throbb'd
with deep sorrow, as