8. Where shall they turn to mourn thee less? When cease to hear thy cherish'd name? Time cannot teach forgetfulness, While Grief's full heart is fed by Fame. 9. Alas! for them, though not for thee, Who ne'er gave cause to mourn before. VOL. IV. т TO A LADY WEEPING. 1. WEEP, daughter of a royal line, 2. Weep-for thy tears are Virtue's tears- Repaid thee by thy people's smiles! March, 1812. FROM THE TURKISH. 1. THE chain I gave was fair to view, And ill deserved the fate it found. 2. These gifts were charm'd by secret spell And they have done their duty well, Alas! they could not teach thee thine. 3. That chain was firm in every link, But not to bear a stranger's touch; That lute was sweet-till thou could'st think In other hands its notes were such. 4. Let him, who from thy neck unbound Restring the chords, renew the clasp. 5. When thou wert changed, they alter'd too; The chain is broke, the music mute; "Tis past-to them and thee adieu— False heart, frail chain, and silent lute, SONNET. TO GENEVRA. THINE eyes blue tenderness, thy long fair hair, When from his beauty-breathing pencil born, The Magdalen of Guido saw the morn— Such seem'st thou-but how much more excellent! With nought Remorse can claim-nor Virtue scorn. |