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Remember thou that dangerous hour
When neither fell, though both were loved.
That yielding breast, that melting eye,
Too much invited to be blest:
That gentle prayer, that pleading sigh,
Oh! let me feel that all I lost,
But saved thee all that conscience fears; And blush for every pang it cost
To spare the vain remorse of years.
Yet think of this when many a tongue,
Think that, whate'er to others, thou
I bless thy purer soul even now,
Oh, God! that we had met in time,
Far may thy days, as heretofore,
And, that too bitter moment o'er,
This heart, alas! perverted long,
Then to the things whose bliss or wo,
Thy youth, thy charms, thy tenderness,
Oh! pardon that imploring tear,
Though long and mournful must it be,
And almost deem the sentence sweet.
Still, had I loved thee less, my heart
It felt not half so much to part,
INSCRIBED UPON A CUP FORMED FROM A SKULL.
START not-nor deem my spirit fled :
In me behold the only skull,
From which, unlike a living head,
Whatever flows is never dull.
I lived, I loved, I quaff'd, like thee;
Better to hold the sparkling grape,
Than nurse the earth-worm's slimy brood; And circle in the goblet's shape
The drink of Gods, than reptile's food.
Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone,
And when, alas! our brains are gone,
Quaff while thou canst another race,
Why not? since through life's little day
Redeem'd from worms and wasting clay,
ON THE DEATH OF SIR PETER
THERE is a tear for all that die,
A mourner o'er the humblest grave;
For them in Sorrow's purest sigh
In vain their bones unburied lie,
All earth becomes their monument!
A tomb is theirs on every page,
For them bewail, to them belong.