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When thou wert changed, they alter'd too;
The chain is broke, the music mutę: 'Tis past-to them and thee adieu
False heart, frail chain, and silent lute.
THINE eyes blue tenderness, thy long fair hair,
And the wan lustre of thy features—caught
From contemplation-where serenely wrought, Seems Sorrow's softness charm'd from its despair Have thrown such speaking sadness in thine air,
That-but I know thy blessed bosom fraught
With mines of unalloy'd and stainless thought-I should have deem'd thee doom'd to earthly care. With such an aspect, by his colours blent,
When from his beauty-breathing pencil born, (Except that thou hast nothing to repent)
The Magdalen of Guido saw the mornSuch seem'st thou-but how much more excellent!
With nought Remorse can claim-nor Virtue
Tay cheek is pale with thought, but not from wo,
And yet so lovely, that if Mirth could flush
Its rose of whiteness with the brightest blush, My heart would wish away that ruder glow :And dazzle not thy deep-blue eyes—but oh!
While gazing on them sterner eyes will gush,
And into mine my mother's weakness rush, Soft as the last drops round heaven's airy bow. For, through thy long dark lashes low depending,
The soul of melancholy Gentleness
Above all pain, yet pitying all distress ;
I worship more, but cannot love thee less.
ON THE MONUMENT OF A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG,
When some proud son of man returns to earth, Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,
The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of wo,
Newstead Abbey, Oct. 30, 1808.
FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer
For other's weal avail'd on high, Mine will not all be lost in air,
But waft thy name beyond the sky. "Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh:
Oh! more than tears of blood can tell, When wrung from guilt's expiring eye,
Are in that word-Farewell!-Farewell!
These lips are mute, these eyes are dry ;
But in my breast, and in my brain, Awake the pangs that pass not by,
The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. My soul nor deigns nor dares complain,
Though grief and passion there rebel; I only know we loved in vain
I only feel-Farewell !-Farewell !
Bright be the place of thy soul!
No lovelier spirit than thine E’er burst from its mortal control,
In the orbs of the blessed to shine.
On earth thou wert all but divine,
As thy soul shall immortally be; And our sorrow may cease to repine,
When we know that thy God is with thee.
2. Light be the turf of thy tomb !
May its verdure like emeralds be: There should not be the shadow of gloom,
In aught that reminds us of thee. Young flowers and an evergreen tree
May spring from the spot of thy rest: But nor cypress nor yew let us see;
For why should we mourn for the blest?
WHEN we two parted
In silence and tears,
To sever for years,
Colder thy kiss;
Sorrow to this.