1819. At length her constant eyelids come TO FANNY. PHYSICIAN Nature! let my spirit blood! I come -I see thee, as thou standest there, Ah! dearest love, sweet home of all my fears, As brilliant and as bright, As when with ravished, aching, vassal eyes, Who now, I gaze, I gaze! with greedy looks, eats up my feast? What stare outfaces now my silver moon! Ah! keep that hand unravished at the least; Let, let, the amorous burn But, pr'ythee, do not turn The current of your heart from me so soon. The quickest pulse for me. Save it for me, sweet love! though music breathe Though swimming through the dance's dangerous wreath; Be like an April day, Smiling and cold and gay, A temperate lily, temperate as fair; A warmer June for me. Why, this-you 'll say, my Fanny! is not true : A feather on the sea, Sway'd to and fro by every wind and tide ? As blow-ball from the mead? I know it—and to know it is despair To one who loves you as I love, sweet Fanny! Dare keep its wretched home, Love, love alone, his pains severe and many : Then, loveliest! keep me free, From torturing jealousy. Ah! if you prize my subdued soul above The sacramental cake: Let none else touch the just new-budded flower; If not-may my eyes close, Love! on their last repose. SONNETS. I. OH! how I love, on a fair summer's eve, The silver clouds, far-far away to leave Musing on Milton's fate-on Sydney's bier— Full often dropping a delicious tear, When some melodious sorrow spells mine eyes. 1816. II. TO A YOUNG LADY WHO SENT ME A LAUREL CROWN. FRESH morning gusts have blown away all fear Than the proud laurel shall content my bier. By thy white fingers and thy spirit clear. Lo! who dares say, "Do this?" Who dares call down My will from its high purpose? Who say, "Stand," Or "Go?" This mighty moment I would frown On abject Cæsars-not the stoutest band Of mailed heroes should tear off my crown: Yet would I kneel and kiss thy gentle hand! |