Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

Ah! to return, to meet again!

Dear blissful thought! with love and thee!

No more I murmur and complain,

For thou, my Love, wilt think on me.

O TUNEFUL Voice! I still deplore
Those accents which, though heard no more,
Still vibrate on my heart;

In Echo's cave I long to dwell,

[ocr errors]

And still would hear the sad Farewell!'

When we were doom'd to part.

Bright Eyes! ô that the task were mine
To guard the liquid fires that shine,
And round your orbits play;

To watch them with a Vestal's care,
And feed with smiles a light so fair,
That it might ne'er decay.

THE season comes when first we met,
But you return no more!

Why cannot I the days forget,

Which time can ne'er restore?

O! days too sweet, too bright to last,
Are you indeed for ever past?

The fleeting shadows of delight,
In memory I trace;

In fancy stop their rapid flight,
And all the past replace:

But, ah! I wake to endless woes,
And tears the fading vision close!

WHEN hollow burst the rushing winds,
And heavy beats the shower,
This anxious aching bosom finds
No comfort in it's power.

For ah, my love! it little knows
What thy hard fate may be;
What bitter storm of fortune blows,
What tempests trouble thee.

A wayward Fate hath twin'd the thread
On which our days depend,

And darkling in the chequer'd shade,
She draws it to an end.

But whatsoe'er may be thy doom,

The lot is cast for me;

Or in the world, or in the tomb,
My heart is fix'd on thee!

WILLIAM PRESTON.

1781.

William Preston, Esq. is the descendant of a family of great respectability in Ireland, where he mostly resides. He is a gentleman highly esteemed for the integrity of his principles, his social and general worth, the candour of his disposition, and the qualifications and attainments of his mind. His name has long been familiar to the admirers of genuine poetry. Some bold and interesting Strictures on the German Drama, which merit a more extensive circulation, were handed about, a few months since, as the production of Mr. Preston.

SONNET.

PALE virgin moon, and ever-burning choir, Ye lamps, that clip the throne of night around! Oft, on my cheek, the sorrows have ye found, That burst, in torrents, from the fierce Desire, And flow, but vainly flow, to quench its fire: Oft, have ye heard my bitter sighs around, Oft, seen despair my bleeding heart-strings wound, And double strength from every wound acquire. Oh! speak, for ye have seen what inmates dwell In the soft mansion of my CLARA's breast; Does calm untroubled peace inhabit there? Or, does her pity share the pangs I bear, And sympathetic sighs her bosom swell? I wish-I fear-my sorrows break her rest!

SONNET.

SINCE, CLARA, thou by Death's untimely hand Wert snatch'd from Earth, neglected have I rov'd; Nor peace, nor hope, nor joy, nor comfort prov'd. A single stranger here below I stand,

Idle spectator of the busy band,

By follies acted or by passions mov'd;
A naked wretch unloving and unlov'd;
And sighs and fruitless tears the hours demand.
Nor source of act, nor ruling aim remains;
For whom shall now my happiness rejoice?
Or who shall gently sorrow for my woes?
One hope alone the tortur❜d heart sustains,
The grave to call me lifts it's awful voice-
"Oh come, thou mourner, and with me repose."

THOMAS RUSSELL.

1782.

The Rev. Thomas Russell, born at Bridport in Dorsetshire, about the year 1762, was the son of an eminent attorney of that place. Having imbibed the rudiments of education at a Grammar-school in his native county, he was removed to Winchester, under the mastership of the late Doctor Warton, to whom his poems were afterwards inscribed. In 1780, he was elected Fellow of New College, Oxford. While rising rapidly into distinction, for the extent and solidity of his literary acquisitions, he found himself at once interrupted by an illness, that terminated in a consumption of the lungs. He died at Bristol, whither he had resorted for the renovation of his health, July 31, 1788, in his twenty-sixth year. That he had often feelingly anticipated his melancholy fate, is evinced in the following Sonnet

Once more return'd to curl the dimpling lake,
Auspicious Zephyr waves his downy wing;
Rous'd at his touch, the slumbering flowers awake
With all the smiling family of Spring:
Again is heard the turtle's amorous tale,
Again the swallow twitters o'er her nest,
Again wild music melts in every vale,

And love, rekindling, glows in every breast:
Thus they return.-But, ah! to me no more
Return the pleasures of the vernal plain,
In vain for me resounds the vocal shore,

And woods renew their verdant robes in vain;
Nor counsel sweet of Friends can ease my care,
Nor even the sweeter converse of the Fair!

His resignation of DELIA excites the strongest emotions of sympathy, when the circumstances of the lover are considered. A young and amiable man, fondly devoted to her charms, yet secretly impressed with the painful con.

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »