D (From the Corsair.) EEP in my soul that tender secret dwells, Then trembles into silence as before. There, in its centre, a sepulchral lamp Burns the slow flame, eternal, but unseen; Which not the darkness of despair can damp, Though vain its ray as it had never been. Remember me-Oh! pass not thou my grave Without one thought whose relics there recline: The only pang my bosom dare not brave My fondest, faintest, latest accents hear- The first-last-sole reward of so much love! E Cupids, droop each little head, Nor let your wings with joy be spread; Whom dearer than her eyes For he was gentle, and so true, she loved : No fear, no wild alarm he knew, And softly fluttering here and there, * "Lugete, Veneres, Cupidinesque." Now having pass'd the gloomy bourne Oh! curst be thou, devouring grave! Receptacle of life's decay. N (TO INEZ.) AY, smile not at my sullen brow; Yet Heaven avert that ever thou Shouldst weep, and haply weep in vain. And dost thou ask what secret woe I bear, corroding joy and youth? And wilt thou vainly seek to know A pang, ev'n thou must fail to soothe? It is not love, it is not hate, Nor low Ambition's honours lost, |