James Thomson.

TO MYRA.

O thou, whose tender serious eyes
Expressive speak the mind I love;
The gentle azure of the skies,

The pensive shadows of the grove:

O mix the beauteous beams with mine,
And let us interchange our hearts;
Let all their sweetness on me shine,
Pour'd through my soul be all their darts.

Ah! 'tis too much! I cannot bear

At once so soft, so keen a ray:

In pity then, my lovely fair,

O turn those killing eyes away!

But what avails it to conceal

One charm, where nought but charms I see?

Their lustre then again reveal,

And let me, Myra, die of thee!

James Thomson,

geb. zu Rorburgh den 11. September 1700. gest. zu Kew Lane, bei Richmond den 27. August 1748.

An Myra.

O! wie dein Auge, ernst und mild,
Ausstrahlt mein Liebesideal:
Der fanften Himmelsbläue Bild

Und finnender Schatten im Waldesthal!

Daß Seel' in Seele überwall",

ström' in meins den Zauberschein !

Laß lächeln mir sein Süßes all,
Bohr' all die Pfeil' in's Herze mein.

Ach! 's ist zu viel! den Strahl, so lind
Und scharf zugleich, ertrag' ich nicht:
Uus Mitleid drum, holdselig Kind,
birg dein tödtlich Augenlicht!

Und doch, in deiner Reize Kranz
Was hilft's, verhüllt den einen sehn?
Laß leuchten denn der Augen Glanz,
Und mich daran zu Grunde gehn!

THOMAS PERCY'S

Ueberreste altenglischer Dichtkunft.

Thomas Percy's

Reliques of Ancient English Poetry.

SIR CAULINE.

THE FIRST PART.

In Ireland, ferr over the sca,
There dwelleth a bonnye kinge;
And with him a yong and comlye knighte,
Men call him Syr Cauline.

The kinge had a ladye to his daughter
In fashyon she hath no peere;
And princely wightes that ladye wooed
To be theyr wedded feere.

Syr Cauline loveth her best of all,
But nothing durst he saye;

Ne descreeve his counsayl to no man,
But deerlye he lovde this may.