BY A LADY, ON OBSERVING SOME WHITE HAIRS ON HER LOVER'S HEAD.
THOU, to whose power reluctantly we bend,
Foe to life's fairy dreams, relentless Time,
Alike the dread of lover and of friend,
Why stamp thy seal on manhood's rosy prime?
Already twining, 'midst my Thyrsis' hair,
The snowy wreaths of age, the monuments of care.
Through all her forms, though Nature own thy sway,
That boasted sway thou'lt here exert in vain :
To the last beam of life's declining day,
Thyrsis shall view, unmoved, thy potent reign,-
Secure to please, while goodness knows to charm,
Fancy and taste delight, or sense and truth inform.
Tyrant, when from that lip of crimson glow,
Swept by thy chilling wing, the rose shall fly;
When thy rude scythe indents his polished brow,
And quenched is all the lustre of his eye;
When ruthless age disperses every grace,
Each smile that beams from that ingenuous face;—
Then, through her stores shall active Memory rove, Teaching each various charm to bloom anew, And still the raptured eye of faithful love
Shall bend on Thyrsis its delighted view; Still shall he triumph with resistless power,
Still rule the conquered heart to life's remotest hour.
THAT happy gleam of vernal eyes,
Those locks from Summer's golden skies,
That o'er thy brow are shed;
That cheek-a kindling of the morn,
That lip-a rose-bud from the thorn,
I saw; and Fancy sped
To scenes Arcadian, whispering, through soft air,
Of bliss that grows without a care;
Of happiness that never flies
How can it, where love never dies?
Of promise whispering, where no blight
Can reach the innocent delight;
Where Pity to the mind conveyed
In pleasure, is the darkest shade
That Time, unwrinkled grandsire, flings
From his smoothly-gliding wings.
What mortal form, what earthly face,
Inspired the pencil, lines to trace,
And mingle colours that could breed
Such rapture, nor want power to feed?
For had thy charge been idle flowers,
Fair damsel, o'er my captive mind,
To truth and sober reason blind,
'Mid the soft air, those long-lost bowers,
That sweet illusion might have hung for hours! -Thanks to this tell-tale sheaf of corn,
That touchingly bespeaks thee born,
Life's daily task with them to share,
Who, whether from their lowly bed
They rise, or rest the weary head,
Do weigh the blessing they entreat
From heaven, and feel what they repeat,
While they give utterance to the prayer
That asks for daily bread.
I HEARD thy fate without a tear,
Thy loss with scarce a sigh;
And yet thou wert surpassing dear—
Too loved of all to die.
I know not what hath seared mine eye;
The tears refuse to start;
But every drop its lids deny
Falls darkly on my heart.
Yes--deep and heavy, one by one,
They sink and turn to care;
As caverned waters wear the stone,
Yet dropping, harden there ;-
They cannot petrify more fast
Than feelings sunk remain,
Which, coldly fixed, regard the past,
But never melt again.
I LOVE my love in the morning,
For she, like morn, is fair-
Her blushing cheek, its crimson streak,
Its clouds, her golden hair;
Her glance, its beam, so soft and kind;
Her tears, its dewy showers!
And her voice the tender whispering wind
That stirs the early bowers.
I love my love in the morning,
I love my love at noon;
For she is bright as the lord of light,
Yet mild as autumn's moon:
Her beauty is my bosom's sun,
Her faith my fostering shade;
And I will love my darling one,
Till even that sun shall fade.
I love my love in the morning,
I love my love at even;
Her smile's soft play is like the ray
That lights the western heaven;
I loved her when the sun was high,
I loved her when he rose ;
But, best of all, when evening's sigh
Was murmuring at its close.
I LOOKIT east-I lookit west,
I saw the darksome coming even;
The wild bird sought its cozy nest,
The kid was to the hamlet driven;
But house nor hame aneath the heaven,
Except the skeugh of greenwood tree,
To seek a shelter it was given,
To my three little bairns and me.
I had a prayer I couldna pray,
I had a vow I couldna breathe,
For aye they led my words astray,
And aye they were connected baith
Wi' ane wha now was cauld in death.
I lookit round wi' watery ee-
Hope wasna there-but I was laith
To see my little babies dee.
Just as the breeze the aspin stirred,
And bore aslant the falling dew,
I thought I heard a bonny bird
Singing amid the air-sea blue;
It was a lay that did renew
The hope deep sunk in misery;
It was of one my woes that knew,
And ae kind heart that cared for me.
O, sweet as breaks the rising day,
Or sunbeam through the wavy rain,
Fell on my soul the charming lay!
Was it an angel poured the strain?
Whoe'er has kenned a mother's pain,
Bent o'er the child upon her knee,
O they will bless, and bless again,
The generous heart that cares for me!
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