Adieu, then, ye hills, where my childhood was bred!
Thou sweet flowing Dee, to thy waters adieu!
No home in the forest shall shelter my head,
Ah! Mary, what home could be mine but with you?

TO

1.

OH! yes, I will own we were dear to each other;
The friendships of childhood, though fleeting, are true;
The love which you felt was the love of a brother,
Nor less the affection I cherish'd for you.

2.

But friendship can vary her gentle dominion,
The attachment of years in a moment expires;
Like love, too, she moves on a swift-waving pinion,
But glows not, like love, with unquenchable fires.

3.

Full oft have we wander'd through Ida together,
And blest were the scenes of our youth I allow:
In the spring of our life, how serene is the weather;
But winter's rude tempests are gathering now.

* This poem was first published in Hours of Idleness.-ED.

4.

No more with affection shall memory blending
The wonted delights of our childhood retrace:
When pride steels the bosom, the heart is unbending,
And what would be justice appears a disgrace.

However, dear S

,

5.

for I still must esteem you

The few whom I love I can never upbraid

The chance which has lost may in future redeem you, Repentance will cancel the vow you have made.

6.

I will not complain, and though chill'd is affection,
With me no corroding resentment shall live:
My bosom is calm'd by the simple reflection,

That both may be wrong, and that both should forgive.

7.

You knew that my soul, that my heart, my existence,
If danger demanded, were wholly your own;
You knew me unalter'd by years or by distance,
Devoted to love and to friendship alone.

You knew

8.

but away with the vain retrospection! The bond of affection no longer endures;

Too late you may droop o'er the fond recollection, And sigh for the friend who was formerly yours.

9.

For the present, we part—I will hope not for ever,
For time and regret will restore you at last;
To forget our dissension we both should endeavour,
I ask no atonement but days like the past.

TO MARY,

ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE.

1.

THIS faint resemblance of thy charms,
Though strong as mortal art could give,
My constant heart of fear disarms,
Revives my hopes, and bids me live.

2.

Here I can trace the locks of gold

Which round thy snowy forehead wave,
The cheeks which sprung from Beauty's mould,
The lips which made me Beauty's slave.

3.

Here I can trace-ah, no! that eye,
Whose azure floats in liquid fire,
Must all the painter's art defy,

And bid him from the task retire.

4.

Here I behold its beauteous hue,

But where's the beam so sweetly straying* Which gave a lustre to its blue,

Like Luna o'er the ocean playing?

5.

Sweet copy! far more dear to me,
Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art,
Than all the living forms could be,
Save her who placed thee next my heart.

6.

She placed it, sad, with needless fear,

Lest time might shake my wavering soul, Unconscious that her image there

Held every sense in fast control.

7.

Through hours, through years, through time'twill cheer;

My hope, in gloomy moments, raise;

In life's last conflict 'twill appear,

And meet my fond expiring gaze.

* But where's the beam of soft desire?

Which gave a lustre to its blue,

Love, only love, could e'er inspire.

Private volume.-ED.

TO LESBIA*.

1.

LESBIA! since far from you I've ranged,
Our souls with fond affection glow not;
You say 'tis I, not you, have changed,
I'd tell you why, but yet I know not.

2.

Your polish'd brow no cares have crost;
And, Lesbia! we are not much older,
Since trembling first my heart I lost,
Or told my love, with hope grown bolder.

3.

Sixteen was then our utmost age,

Two years have lingering past away, love! And now new thoughts our minds engage, At least I feel disposed to stray, love!

4.

'Tis I that am alone to blame,

I, that am guilty of love's treason; Since your sweet breast is still the same, Caprice must be my only reason.

* Only printed in the private volume.-ED.