TWO SONNETS ON FAME. I. FAME, like a wayward girl, will still be coy To those who woo her with too slavish knees, But makes surrender to some thoughtless boy, And dotes the more upon a heart at ease; She is a Gipsey, will not speak to those Who have not learnt to be content without her; A Jilt, whose ear was never whisper'd close, Who thinks they scandal her who talk about her A very Gipsey is she, Nilus-born, Sister-in-law to jealous Potiphar; Ye love-sick Bards, repay her scorn for scorn, II. "You cannot eat your cake and have it too."-Proverb. How fever'd is the man, who cannot look Upon his mortal days with temperate blood, Who vexes all the leaves of his life's book, And robs his fair name of its maidenhood; It is as if the rose should pluck herself, Or the ripe plum finger its misty bloom, As if a Naiad, like a meddling elf, Should darken her pure grot with muddy gloom, But the rose leaves herself upon the briar, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed, And the ripe plum still wears its dim attire, The undisturbed lake has crystal space, Why then should man, teazing the world for grace, Spoil his salvation for a fierce miscreed? SONNET. TO SLEEP. SOFT embalmer of the still midnight, Shutting with careful fingers and benign, O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close, Then save me, or the passed day will shine Save me from curious conscience, that still lords Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed casket of my soul. A PARTY OF LOVERS. PENSIVE they sit, and roll their languid eyes, See with cross'd arms they sit-ah! happy crew, By a humane society? No, no; there Mr. Werter takes his spoon, To No. 7, just beyond the circus gay. Alas, my friend! your coat sits very well; Where may your tailor live?' 'I may not tell. I cannot tell, let me no more be teaz'd He lives in Wapping, might live where he pleas'd.' SONNET. THE day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast, Warm breath, light whisper, tender semi-tone, Bright eyes, accomplish'd shape, and lang'rous waist! Faded the flower and all its budded charms, Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes, Vanish'd unseasonably at shut of eve, When the dusk holiday-or holinight Of fragrant-curtain'd love begins to weave The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight; But, as I've read love's missal through to-day, He'll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray. LINES TO FANNY. WHAT HAT can I do to drive away Remembrance from my eyes? for they have seen, When every fair one that I saw was fair, When, howe'er poor or particolour'd things, And ever ready was to take her course Whither I bent her force, Unintellectual, yet divine to me; ΙΟ Divine, I say!-What sea-bird o'er the sea 15 Winging along where the great water throes? How shall I do To get anew Those moulted feathers, and so mount once more The reach of fluttering Love, And make him cower lowly while I soar? Shall I gulp wine.? No, that is vulgarism, 20 A heresy and schism, Foisted into the canon law of love ; No,-wine is only sweet to happy men; Seize on me unawares, Where shall I learn to get my peace again? 25 30 To banish thoughts of that most hateful land, 35 Whose winds, all zephyrless, hold scourging rods, Whose rank-grown forests, frosted, black, and blind, Would fright a Dryad; whose harsh herbag'd meads 40 Make lean and lank the starv'd ox while he feeds; There bad flowers have no scent, birds no sweet song, And great unerring Nature once seems wrong. O, for some sunny spell To dissipate the shadows of this hell! 45 Say they are gone,—with the new dawning light O, let me once more rest My soul upon that dazzling breast! Let once again these aching arms be plac'd, 50 The tender gaolers of thy waist! And let me feel that warm breath here and there To spread a rapture in my very hair, O, the sweetness of the pain! Give me those lips again! 55 Enough! Enough! it is enough for me |