The Bakchesarian Fountain and Other Poems | Page 7

for ever slept.
His mate, now sad abroad and grieving,?Flies from a distance home again,?Sits by her friend, with bosom heaving,?And bids him wake with sorrowing pain.
She sighs, she weeps, her spirits languish,?Around and round the spot she goes,?Ah! charming Chloe's lost in anguish,?Her friend wakes not from his repose!
LAURA'S PRAYER.
As the harp's soft sighings in the silent valley,?To high heaven reaching, lifts thy pious prayer,?Laura, be tranquil! again with health shall nourish
Thy loved companion.
O! ye gods, behold fair Laura sunk in anguish,?Kneeling, O! behold her on the grassy hill,?Mild evening's sportive zephyrs gently embracing
Her golden ringlets.
Glist'ning with tears, her sad eyes to you she raises,?Her fair bosom heaving like the swelling wave,?Whilst in the solemn grove echo, clothed in darkness,
Repeats her accents.
"O! gods, my friend beloved give again health's blessings,?Faded are her cheeks now, dull her once bright eye,?In her heart no pleasure,--killed by cruel sickness,
As by heat flowers.
"But if your hard laws should bid her quit existence,?Grant then my sad prayer, with her let me too die,"--?Laura, be tranquil! thy friend thou'lt see reviving
Like spring's sweet roses.
THE STORM.
BY DERJAVIN.
As my bark in restless ocean?Mounts its rough and foaming hills,?Whilst its waves in dark commotion?Pass me, hope my bosom fills.
Who, when warring clouds are gleaming,?Quenches the destructive spark??Say what hand, where safety's beaming,?Guides through rocks my little bark?
Thou Creator! all o'erseeing,?In this scene preserv'st me dread,?Thou, without whose word decreeing?Not a hair falls from my head.
Thou in life hast doubly blest me,?All my soul to thee's revealed,?Thou amongst the great hast placed me,?Be midst them my guide and shield!
TO MY HEART.
Why, poor heart, so ceaseless languish??Why with such distresses smart??Nought alleviates thy anguish,?What afflicts thee so, poor heart?
Heart, I comprehend not wrongly,?Thou a captive art confest,?Near Eliza thou beat'st strongly?As thou'dst leap into her breast.
Since 'tis so then, little throbber,?You and I, alas! must part,?I'd not be thy comfort's robber;?To her I'll resign thee, heart.
Yet the maid in compensation?Must her own bestow on me,?And with such remuneration?Never shall I grieve for thee.
But should she, thy sorrows spurning,?This exchange, poor heart, deny,?Then I'll bear thee, heart, though mourning,?From her far and hasty fly.
But, alas! no pain assuaging,?That would but increase thy grief;?If kind Death still not its raging,?Granting thee a kind relief.
TIME.
O! Time, as thou on rapid wings?Encirclest earth's extensive ball,?Fatal thy flight to worldly things,?Thy darts cut down and ruin all.
A cloud from us thy form conceals;?Enwrapt its gloomy folds among,?Thou mov'st eternity's vast wheels,?And with them movest us along.
The swift-winged days thou urgest on,?With them life's sand beholdest pass,?And when our transient hours are gone,?Thou smilest at their exhausted glass.
Against Time's look, when he but frowns,?All strength, and skill, and power, are vain;?He withers laurels, wreaths, and crowns,?And breaks the matrimonial chain.
As Time moves onward, far and wide?His restless scythe mows all away,?All feels his breath, on every side?All sinks, resistless, to decay.
To youth's gay bloom and beauty's charms?Mercy alike stern Time denies,?Like vernal flowers o'erwhelmed by storms,?Whate'er he looks at droops and dies.
Huge piles from earth his mighty hand?Sweeps to oblivion's empire dread,?What villages, what cities grand,?What kingdoms sink beneath his tread!
Heroes in vain, his gauntlet cast,?Oppose his stern and ruthless sway,?Nor armies brave, nor mountains vast,?Can thwart the devastator's way.
Thought strives, but fruitless, to pursue?The traces of Time's rapid flight,?Scarce Fancy gains one transient view,?He disappears and sinks in night.
Think, thou whom folly's dazzling glare?Of worldly vanities may blind,?Time frowns and all will disappear,?Nor gold a vestige leave behind.
And thou whom fierce distresses sting,?Thou by calamities low bowed,?Weep not, for Time the day will bring?That ranks the humble with the proud.
But, Time, thy course of ruin stay,?The lyre's sweet tones one moment hear,?By thee o'er earth is spread dismay,?Grief's sigh called forth, and pity's tear.
Yet, Time, thy speed the dread decree?Of retribution on thee brings,?Eternity will swallow thee,?Thy motion stop, and clip thy wings!
SONG.
Sweetly came the morning light,?When fair Mary blest my sight,?In her presence pleasures throng,?Louder swelled the birds their song,
Pleasanter the day became.
Not so radiant are Sol's rays,?When on darkest clouds they blaze,?As her look, so free from guile,?As fair Mary's tender smile,
As the smile of my beloved.
Not of dew the gems divine?Shine as Mary's beauties shine,?Not with hers the rose's dye?On the fairest cheek can vie,
None have beauty like to hers.
Mary's kiss as honey sweet,?Pure as streamlet clear and fleet,?Love inhabits her soft eyes,?Floats in all her soothing sighs,
Nought on earth so sweet as she.
Let us, Mary, now enjoy?Nature's charms without alloy,?Verdant lawn, and smiling grove;--?Brooks that babble but of love
Will beside us softer flow.
Let us seek the pleasant shade,?Sit in bowers by us arrayed?With gay flow'rets, where are heard?Songs of many a pleasant bird,
Which with rapture we will join.
In that sweet and lovely spot,?All the cares of earth forgot,?Thou, the comfort of my sight,?Thou, my glory, my delight,
Shalt my soul to peace allure.
SONG.
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