A SONG. 1. THOU art not false, but thou art fickle, Are doubly bitter from that thought: 'Tis this which breaks the heart thou grievest, Too well thou lov'st-too soon thou leavest. 2. The wholly false the heart despises, 3. To dream of joy and wake to sorrow 4. What must they feel whom no false vision, As if a dream alone had charm'd? ON BEING ASKED WHAT WAS THE "ORIGIN OF LOVE?” THE "Origin of Love!"-Ah why And should'st thou seek his end to know: But live-until I cease to be. VOL. V. REMEMBER HIM, &c. 1. REMEMBER him, whom passion's power When neither fell, though both were loved. 2. That yielding breast, that melting eye, That gentle prayer, that pleading sigh, 3. Oh! let me feel that all I lost, But saved thee all that conscience fears; And blush for every pang it cost То spare the vain remorse of years. 4. Yet think of this when many a tongue, Whose busy accents whisper blame, Would do the heart that loved thee wrong, And brand a nearly blighted name. 5. Think that, whate'er to others, thou I bless thy purer soul even now, Even now, in midnight solitude. 6. Oh, God! that we had met in time, 7. Far may thy days, as heretofore, From this our gaudy world be past! And, that too bitter moment o'er, Oh! may such trial be thy last! 8. This heart, alas! perverted long, 9. Then to the things whose bliss or woe, Like mine, is wild and worthless all, That world resign-such scenes forego, Where those who feel must surely fall. 10. Thy youth, thy charms, thy tenderness, 11. Oh! pardon that imploring tear, For me they shall not weep again. |