ÆäÀÌÁö À̹ÌÁö
PDF
ePub

STANZAS

Written by Mr. LEYDEN before his departure to Madras, on the following given Line from Chaucer, "Harde is his herte that lovith nought."

As slow the waning year retires,
The wild-wood warblers lose their fires,
Long shall they rest on lonely wing,
Far from their mates, till jocund Spring
Again the month of Love has brought;
But man kind Nature grants to prove
Through every month the power of Love;
Hard is his heart that loveth nought.

And I, who once in frolic mood,
With wild and witless hardihood,
Julia unknown, would mock the woe
Which only faithful lovers know.

When first I saw her face, I thought-
"If aught on earth so angel bright
Can charm the soul to soft delight,
Hard is his heart that loveth nought."

Torn from thy circling arms afar,
To pine beneath the eastern star,
As sad my lingering eyes I turn
To see thee my departure mourn—

"Too dear thy love can ne'er be bought, Sweet soul"-1 sigh; "thou ne'er shalt rue;

I deem the heart that loves untrue

More hard than his that loveth nought." LONDON, JANUARY, 1803.

SIGNS OF THE TIMES.

OCTOBER 1804.

JUSTICE, here its doom suspending,
Long has spar'd a favor'd land:
Britain! what if signs portending,
Speak thy judgment is at hand?

Virtue's wrongs at last remitted,

See th' avenging Angel stand-
Death and Hell to him committed,
Pour'd the phial from his hand :

Blood must be for blood expended!
Sadness still the voice of Mirth;
Mercy, now no more extended,
Quits indignantly the earth,

Phial! while thy woes are vented,
He who set life's little span—
Sighs, as first when he repented,
To have made rebellious Man!

Not by man his throne elected,
Though man's Eden to restore,
Him, whom nations once rejected,
Him the nations shall adore.

Howl, ye Rich! with deep vexation-
Bend, ye Mighty! to the dust-
'Tis the hour of tribulation!

'Tis the triumph of the Just!

Gather'd from their sad dispersion,
Gather'd-to divide no more,
Now the Children of Conversion
Grateful throng from every shore!

Sons of Promise! Heirs of Glory!
Known amidst Egyptian night,
Heaven's Destroyer pausing, gory!
Shields you in his dreadful flight!

Peace! the tempest has subsided!
Darkness to her covert hies:
Day from night again divided,
Lo! the Morning Star arise.

Morning! yet in faith expected!
Morning of a perfect day!
Beam on righteousness neglected,
Chace the gloom of Time away!

VOL. IV.

C

P. L. C.

THE FAREWELL.

GIVE me one kiss, and then farewell.—
Perhaps we yet once more shall meet,
This bosom yet with rapture swell,

And thine with kindred throbbings beat.

See on the mountain's heathy brow,
The pines their sable branches wave;
Tho' soft the gales which move them blow,
They tell that I my Love must leave.

Ah, fav'ring gales to us severe,

Ye from the Maid her Swain remove; Propitious to the Sons of Care,

Unkind alone to us who love.

Ye spread the bark's unwilling sail,
Ye heave the gently murmuring sea;

Ye bid th' impatient seaman rail,
That lingering here, I still delay.

One more embrace, and then adieu-
May bliss from Heaven around thee dwell
Still think of me, and still be true,

As I will ever-Sweet-farewell.

T. ROBERTSON,

GLENDALLOCH.

JULY, 1802.

BY DR. DRENNAN.

TH' enchantment of the place has bound
All nature in a sleep profound;
And silence of the ev'ning hour

Hangs o'er Glendalloch's hallow'd tow'r :
A mighty grave-stone, set by Time,
That, 'midst these ruins, stands sublime,
To point the else forgotten heap,
Where princes and where prelates sleep;
Where Tuathal rests th' unnoted head,
And Keivin finds a softer bed:

• Sods of the soil,' that verdant springs
Within the sepulchre of kings.

HERE in the circling mountain's shade, In this vast vault, by Nature made, Whose tow'ring roof excludes the skies With savage Kyle's stupendous size; While Lugduff heaves his moory height, And giant Broccagh bars the light; Here-when the British spirit broke, Had fled from Nero's iron yoke,

« ÀÌÀü°è¼Ó »