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Then read, dear girl! with feeling read,

For thou wilt ne'er be one of those; To thee in vain I shall not plead In pity for the poet's woes.

He was in sooth a genuine bard;
He was no faint fictitious flame
Like his, may love be thy reward,
But not thy hapless fate the same.

THE FIRST KISS OF LOVE.*

« Α Βαρβιτος δε χορδαῖς Έρωτα μουνον ἠχει.”

Anacreon.

AWAY with your fictions of flimsy romance

+Those tissues of falsehood which folly has wove; Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance, Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love.

Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with phantasy glow Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove, From what blest inspirations your sonnets would flow,

Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love!

If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse,

Or the Nine be disposed from your service to rove, Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the muse, And try the effect of the first kiss of love.

I hate you, ye cold compositions of art,
Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots re-

prove,

I court the effusions that spring from the heart Which throbs with delight to the first kiss of love.

Your shepherds, your flocks, those fantastical themes,

Perhaps may amuse, yet they never can move: Arcadia displays but a region of dreams;

What are visions like these to the first kiss of love?

Oh! cease to affirm that man since his birth, § From Adam till now, has with wretchedness strove;

Some portion of paradise still is on earth,

And Eden revives in the first kiss of love.

When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past

For years fleet away with the wings of the dove The dearest remembrance will still be the last, Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.

• These stanzas were printed in the private volume, and in the first edition

of Hours of 1 ileness, but omitted in the second.

↑ "Those tissues of fancy Moriah has wove."-Private volume. "Your shepherds, your pipes, &c.-Private volume.

"Oh! cease to affirm that man, from his birth," &c.-Private volume.

• "Moriah, the Goddess of Folly."

TO MARY.

OH! did those eyes, instead of fire,
With bright but mild affection shine,
Though they might kindle less desire,
Love, more than mortal, would be thine.

For thou art form'd so heavenly fair, Howe'er those orbs may wildly beam, We must admire, but still despair; That fatal glance forbids esteem.

When nature stamped thy beauteous birth, So much perfection in thee shone,

She fear'd that too divine for earth,

The skies might claim thee for their own.

Therefore, to guard her dearest work, Lest angels might dispute the prize She bade a secret lightning lurk

Within those once celestial eyes.

These might the boldest sylph appal, When gleaming with meridian blaze, Thy beauty must enrapture all,

But who can dare thine ardent gaze?

"Tis said that Berenice's hair

In stars adorns the vault of heaven: But they would ne'er permit thee there, Thou wouldst so far outshine the seven.

For did those eyes as planets roll,

Thy sister-lights would scarce appear: E'en suns, which systems now control, Would twinkle dimly through their sphere. 1806.

TO WOMAN.

WOMAN! experience might have told me
That all must love thee who behold thee;
Surely experience might have taught
Thy firmest promises are nought;
But placed in all thy charms before me,
All I forget but to adore thee.

Oh, Memory thou choicest blessing

When join'd with hope, when still possessing,
But how much cursed by every lover
When hope is fled and passion's over.
Woman, that fair and fond deceiver,

How prompt are striplings to believe her!
How throbs the pulse when first we view
The eye that rolls in glossy blue,
Or sparkles black, or mildly throws
A beam from under hazel brows!
How quick we credit every oath,
And hear her plight the willing troth
Fondly we hope 'twill last for aye
When, lo! she changes in a day.
This record will for ever stand,

"Woman, thy vows are traced in sand.”⚫

• The last line is almost a literal translation from a Spanish proverb.

422

TO M. S. G.

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Awake, with it my fancy teems;
In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams
The vision charms the hours away,
And bids me curse Aurora's ray
For breaking slumbers of delight
Which make me wish for endless night.
Since, oh! whate'er my future fate,
Shall joy or wo my steps await,
Tempted by love, by storms beset,
Thine image I can ne'er forget.

Alas! again no more we meet,
No more our former looks repeat;
Then let me breathe this parting prayer
The dictate of my bosom's care:
"May heaven so guard my lovely Quaker,
That anguish never can o'ertake her;
That peace and virtue ne'r forsake her,
But bliss be aye her heart's partaker;
Oh! may the happy mortal, fated
To be by dearest ties, related,
For her each hour new joys discover,
And lose the husband in the lover!
May that fair bosom never know
What 'tis to feel the restless wo
Which stings the soul with vain regret,
Of him who never can forget!"

TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER.*

SWEET girl! though only once we met,
That meeting I shall ne'er forget;
And though we ne'er may meet again,
Remembrance will thy form retain.
I would not say, "I love," but still
My senses struggle with my will:
In vain to drive thee from my breast,
My thoughts are more and more represt;
In vain I check the rising sighs,
Another to the last replies:
Perhaps this is not love, but yet
Our meeting I can ne'er forget.

What though we never silence broke,
Our eyes a sweeter language spoke ;
The tongue in flattering falsehood deals,
And tells a tale it never feels:
Deceit the guilty lips impart,
And hush the mandates of the heart;
But soul's interpreter, the eyes,
Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise.
As thus our glances oft conversed,
And all our bosoms felt rehearsed,
No spirit, from within reproved us,
Say rather, "'twas the spirit moved us."
Though what they utter'd I repress,
Yet I conceive thou'lt partly guess;
For as on thee my memory ponders,
Perchance to me thine also wanders.
This for myself, at least, I'll say,

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I arose with the dawn; with my dog as my guide,
From mountain to mountain I bounded along;

I breasted the billow of Dee's rushing tide,
And heard at a distance the Highlander's song:

• To Mary Duff. First published in the second edition of Hours a Idleness.

↑ Morven, a lofty mountain in Aberdeenshire: "Gormal of snow," is an expression frequently to be found in Ossian.

This will not appear extraordinary to those who have been accustomed to the mountains; it is by no means uncommon on attaining the top of Bene-via Ben-y-bourd, &c., to perceive between the summit and the valley, clouds pouring down rain, and occasionally accompanied by lightning, while thự

Thy form appears through night, through day: spectator literally looks down upon the storm, perfectly secure from its effects.

• These lines were published in the private volume, and the first edition of Hours of Idleness, but subsequently omitted by the author."

§ Breasting the lofty surge.-Shakspeare.

The Dee is a beautiful river, which rises near Mar Lorige, and file lots the sea at New Aberdeen.

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When I see some dark hill point its crest to the For the present, we part-I will hope not for ever,

sky,

I think of the rocks that o'ershadow Colbleen; When I see the soft blue of a love-speaking eye,

I think on those eyes that endear'd the rude scene: When, haply, some light-waving locks I behold, That faintly resemble my Mary's in hue, I think of the long-flowing ringlets of gold,

The locks that were sacred to beauty and you.

Yet the day may arrive when the mountains once

more

Shall rise to my sight in their mantles of snow: But while these soar above me unchanged as before, Will Mary be there to receive me? ah, no! 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-t

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.

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.

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.

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, 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.

• Colbleen is a mountain near the verge of the Highlands, not far from the ruins of Dee Castle.

✦ This poem was first published in the Hours of Idleness.

For time and regret will restore you at last; To forget our dissension we both should endeavor, I ask no atonement but days like the past.

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TO LESBIA.*

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 why, but yet I know not.

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.

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!

"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.

I do not, love! suspect your truth,
With jealous doubt my bosom heaves not;
Warm was the passion of my youth,

One trace of dark deceit it leaves not.

No, no, my flame was not pretended,

For, oh! I loved you most sincerely; And though our dream at last has endedMy bosom still esteems you dearly.

No more we meet in yonder bowers;
Absence has made me prone to roving;
But older, firmer hearts than ours
Have found monotony in loving.

Your cheek's soft bloom is unimpair'd,
New beauties still are daily bright'ning,
Your eye for conquest beams prepared,

The forge of love's resistless lightning.

Arm'd thus, to make their bosoms bleed,

Many will throng to sigh like me, love! More constant they may prove indeed;

Fonder, alas! they ne'er can be, love!

LINES ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.+

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In vain with endearments we soothe the sad heart, In vain do we vow for an age to be true; near the spot were alarmed by the sound of a bullet hissing near them, to The chance of an hour may command us to part.

As the author was discharging his pistols in a garden, two ladies passing

one of whom the following stanzas were addressed the next morning.

DOUBTLESS, Sweet girl, the hissing lead,
Wafting destruction o'er thy charms,
And hurtling o'er thy lovely head,
Has filled that breast with fond alarms.

Surely some envious demon's force,

Vex'd to behold such beauty here, Impell'd the bullets' viewless course, Diverted from its first career.

• Only printed in the private volume.

↑ These stanzas are only found in the private volume.

This word is used by Gray, in his poem of the Fatal Sisters :"Iron aleet of arrowy shower

Hurtles through the darken'd alr."

Or death disunite us in love's last adieu'

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Bweet lady! why thus doth a tear steal its way
Down a cheek which outrivals thy bosom in hue?
Yet why do I ask ?-to distraction a prey,
Thy reason has perish'd with love's last adieu!

Oh! who is yon misanthrope, shunning mankind?
From cities to caves of the forest he flew :
There, raving, he howls his complaint to the wind;
The mountains reverberate love's last adieu!

Now hate rules a heart which in love's easy chains
Once passion's tumultuous blandishments knew;
Despair now inflames the dark tide of his veins;
He ponders in frenzy on love's last adieu !

How he envies the wretch with a soul wrapt in steel!
His pleasures are scarce, yet his troubles are few,
Who laughs at the pang that he never can feel,
And dreads not the anguish of love's last adieu!

Youth flies, life decays, even hope is o'ercast;

No more with love's former devotion we sue : He spreads his young wing, he retires with the blast! The shroud of affection is love's last adieu!

In this life of probation for rapture divine,

Astrea declares that some penance is due; From him who has worshipp'd at love's gentle shrine The atonement is ample in love's last adieu !

Who kneels to the god on his altar of light, Must myrtle and cypress alteruately strew: His myrtle, an emblem of purest delight;

His cypress, the garland of love's last adieu!

DAMÆTAS.

In law an infant,† and in years a boy,
In mind a slave to every vicious joy;

From every sense of shame and virtue wean'd;
In lies an adept, in deceit a fiend;
Versed in hypocrisy while yet a child;
Fickle as wind, of inclinations wild;

Woman his dupe, his heedless friend a tool;

Old in the world, though scarcely broke from school;
Damætas ran through all the maze of sin,
And found the goal when others just begin:
Even still conflicting passions shake his soul,
And bid him drain the dregs of pleasure's bowl;
But, pall'd with vice, he breaks his former chain,
And what was once his bliss appears his bane.

"Tis not love disturbs thy rest,
Love's a stranger to thy breast;
He in dimpling smiles appears,
Or mourns in sweetly timid tears,
Or bends the languid eyelid down,
But shuns the cold forbidding frown.
Then resume thy former fire,
Some will love, and all admire;
While that icy aspect chills us,
Nought but cool indifference thrills us.
Wouldst thou wandering hearts beguile,
Smile at least, or seem to smile.
Eyes like thine were never meant
To hide their orbs in dark restraint;
Spite of all thou fain wouldst say,
Still in truant beams they play.
Thy lips-but here my modest Muse
Her impulse chaste must needs refuse:
She blushes, curt'sies, frowns,-in short, she
Dreads lest the subject should transport me;
And flying off in search of reason,

Brings prudence back in proper season.
All I shall therefore say (whate'er

I think, is neither here, nor there)

Is, that such lips, of looks endearing,

Were form'd for better things than sneering:
Of soothing compliments divested,
Advice at least's disinterested;
Such is my artless song to thee,
From all the flow of flattery free;
Counsel like mine is as a brother's,
My heart is given to some others;
That is to say, unskill'd to cozen,
It shares itself among a dozen.
Marion, adieu! oh! pr'ythee slight not
This warning, though it may delight not;
And, lest my precepts be displeasing
To those who think remonstrance teasing,
At once I'll tell thee our opinion
Concerning woman's soft dominion:
Howe'er we gaze with admiration
On eyes of blue or lips carnation,
Howe'er the flowing locks attract us,
Howe'er those beauties may distract us,
Still fickle, we are prone to rove,
These cannot fix our souls to love:
It is not too severe a stricture
To say they form a pretty picture:
But wouldst thou see the secret chain,
Which binds us to your humble train,
To hail you queens of all creation,
Know, in a word, 'tis ANIMATION.

TO MARION.

MARION! why that pensive brow? What disgust to life hast thou? Change that discontented air: Frowns become not one so fair.

• The Goddess of Justice.

OSCAR OF ALVA.*

A TALE.+

How sweetly shines, through azure skies. The lamp of heaven on Lora's shore;

Where Alva's hoary turrets rise,

And hear the din of arms no more.

• This poem was published for the first time in Hours of Idleness.

↑ The catastrophe of this tale was suggested by the story of "Jeronyme

↑ la law every person is an infant who has mot attained the age of twenty-and Lorenzo," in the first volume of the "Armenian, or Ghost-Seer."

also bears some resemblance to a scene in the third act of "Macbeth."

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