Fugitive Pieces | Page 6

in their choice,
When pois'd upon the gale, my form shall ride,
Or
dark in mist, descend the mountain's side;
Oh! may my shade behold
no sculptur'd urns,
To mark the spot, where earth to earth returns.

No lengthen'd scroll of virtue, and renown,
My epitaph, shall be my
name alone;
If that with honour fails to crown my clay,
Oh! may no
other fame my deeds repay;
That_, only _that, shall single out the
shot,
By that remember'd, or fore'er forgot.--
1803.

TO ----
1.
Oh! when shall the grave hide forever my sorrow?
Oh! when shall my
soul wing her flight from this clay?
The present is hell! and the
coming to-morrow,
But brings with new torture, the curse of to-day.
2.

From my eye flows no tear, from my lips fall no curses,
I blast not the
fiends, who have hurl'd me from bliss,
For poor is the soul which
bewailing rehearses,
Its querulous grief, when in anguish like this--
3.
Was my eye, 'stead of tears, with red fury flakes bright'ning. Would my
lips breathe a flame, which no stream could assuage, On our foes
should my glance launch in vengeance its lightning, With transport my
tongue give a loose to its rage.
4.
But now tears and curses alike unavailing,
Would add to the souls of
our tyrants delight;
Could they view us, our sad separation bewailing,

Their merciless hearts would rejoice at the sight.
5.
Yet still though we bend with a feign'd resignation,
Life beams not
for us with one ray that can cheer,
Love and hope upon earth bring no
more consolation,
In the grave is our hope, for in life is our fear.
6.
Oh! when, my ador'd, in the tomb will they place me,
Since in life,
love and friendship, for ever are fled,
If again in the mansion of death
I embrace thee,
Perhaps they will leave unmolested--the dead.
1805.

1.
When I hear you express an affection so warm,
Ne'er think, my
belov'd, that I do not believe,
For your lip, would the soul of

suspicion disarm,
And your eye beams a ray, which can never
deceive.
2.
Yet still, this fond bosom regrets whilst adoring,
That love like the
leaf, must fall into the sear,
That age will come on, when
remembrance deploring,
Contemplates the scenes of her youth, with a
tear.
3.
That the time must arrive, when no longer retaining
Their auburn,
these locks must wave thin to the breeze. When a few silver hairs of
those tresses remaining,
Prove nature a prey to decay, and disease.
4.
'Tis this, my belov'd, which spreads gloom o'er my features Tho' I ne'er
shall presume to arraign the decree;
Which God has proclaim'd as the
fate of his creatures,
In the death which one day will deprive me of
thee.
5.
No jargon of priests o'er our union was mutter'd,
To rivet the fetters
of husband and wife;
By our lips, by our hearts, were our vows alone
utter'd,
To perform them, in full, would ask more than a life.
6.
But as death my belov'd, soon or late, shall o'ertake us, And our breasts
which alive with such sympathy glow,
Will sleep in the grave, till the
blast shall awake us,
When calling the dead, in earth's bosom laid
low.
7.

Oh! then let us drain, while we may, draughts of pleasure, Which from
passion like ours will unceasingly flow;
Let us pass round the cup of
love's bliss in full measure, And quaff the contents as our nectar below.
1805.

ON A DISTANT VIEW OF THE VILLAGE AND SCHOOL OF
HARROW ON THE HILL. 1806.
Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov'd recollection,
Embitters the
present, compar'd with the past;
Where science first dawn'd on the
powers of reflection,
And friendships were form'd, too romantic to
last.
2.
Where fancy yet joys, to retrace the resemblance,
Of comrades in
friendship, and mischief allied;
How welcome once more your ne'er
fading remembrance,
Which rests in the bosom, though hope is
deny'd.
3.
Again I revisit the hills where we sported,
The streams where we
swam, and the fields where we fought; The school where loud warn'd
by the bell we resorted,
To pore o'er the precepts by Pedagogues
taught.
4.
Again I behold where for hours I have ponder'd,
As reclining at eve
on yon tombstone I lay;
Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I
wander'd,
To catch the last gleam of the sun's setting ray.
5.

I once more view the room with spectators surrounded,
Where as
Zanga I trod on Alonzo o'erthrown;
While to swell my young pride
such applauses resounded,
I fancied that MOSSOP[5] himself was
outshone.
6.
Or as Lear I pour'd for the deep imprecation,
By my daughters of
kingdom and reason depriv'd:
Till fir'd by loud plaudits, and self
adulation,
I consider'd myself as a Garrick reviv'd.
7.
Ye dreams of my boyhood how much I regret you,
As your memory
beams through this agoniz'd breast,
Thus sad and deserted, I ne'er can
forget you,
Though this heart throbs to bursting by anguish possest.
8.
I thought this poor brain