And has my Mary's heart forgot
The joys that we together knew,
When infant bliss endear'd the spot
Where all our little friendships grew?
Ab Mary! those were blissful days,
And youth a scene of fairy land:
I led thy steps through childhood's maze,
And saw thy virgin bloom expand.
The wild rose from the mountaiu's side,
The lily from the blossom'd lea,
I cull'd with all a lover's pride,
To form a flowery wreathe for thee.
And I have prais'd thy cheek so red,
In words that truth and nature lent, And kiss'd thee for the things I said,
Ere yet I knew what kissing meant.
And is thy heart become so cold,
So lost to feeling and to truth,
As thus to leave, for love of gold,
The fond companion of thy youth?
Yet though those hours to memory dear,
Renew no tender thought of me,
And thou art proof to pity's tear-
That tear, alas! shall flow for thee.
For trust me, love, thè changeful heart
That proves unfaithful to its vow,
That cannot share love's melting smart,→
No thrilling transport e'er shall know.
The lovers' fond and raptured hour,
When in extatic trance they meet,
Shall never bless their joyless bower
With union how divinely sweet.
Yet may'st thou ne'er his anguish share,
Whose breast is destin'd to bemoan
A pang more poignant than despair,
To weep thy woe and feel his own!
DESCRIPTIVE OF DOMESTIC HAPPINESS, AND THE DECLINE OF LIFE. From Cooke's "Conversation: a Didactic Poem."
-With all that bustle daily cares display,-
And man from this reliev'd, seeks in his home
Those purer joys which never ask to roam;
Here kindred talk enjoys its happiest hour,
"Twixt love and duty-gratitude and pow'r;
Here ev'ry finer chord is touch'd that rings,
When rapture swells the note, and pours along the strings.
He now recounts, in fond domestic ease,
All that he thinks will cultivate and please;`
The public good which loyal hearts proclaim
As equal sharer in the public fame;
What cast of fortune speeds himself or friends;
What match commences-or what law-suit ends;
What whims amuse-what useful books come out;
What neighbour meditates a friendly rout.
-Perhaps some party for his household made,
Which needs the toilet's supplemental aid;
Then shows such presents for his children bought,
As prove the pledges of a father's thought.
Oh! sweet exchange of every pure delight
Which cheers the day, and gladdens every night,
Where mutual looks explain, without a voice,
The bliss which consecrates a mutual choice;
Where children run to hail their happy sire,
And form a list'ning group around his fire;
Where all combine to show, from nature's laws,
The Conversation Piece which nature draws,
In latter age, when passions milder flow,
And our chief pride is rais'd on what we know;
Tho' love no longer takes an active part,
No longer flames or agitates the heart,
Still Conversation keeps its settled throne,
Its power of pleasing still is all our own.
By this once more we prove the virgin kind,
And gain fresh conquests o'er her charms of mind;
Disperse the gloomy-aid the cheerful hour,
Obtain respect, and confidence, and pow'r;
And when approaching to its awful close,
Life chiefly finds enjoyment in repose;
When ebbing nature wants some soothing friend
To cheer its spirit and support its end;
This social charm shall gild our setting day,
Inspire fresh hopes, and brighter views display;"
Hopes, which foretaste, confirm'd by pious trust,
The sacred Conversation of the Just;
Where man" made perfect" feels celestial fires,
Glows in discourse-or hymns in heavenly choirs.
When, blest communion! ev'ry joy is thine,
Eternal truth, and harmony divine.
Y murm'ring Nith, my native stream,
I've hail'd thee with the morning's beam;
Woo'd thee among the Falls of Clyde,
On Levin's banks, on Kelvin-side;
And now, on Hanwell's flow'ry plain,
I welcome thy return again—
At Hanwell! where romantic views
And sylvan scenes invite the Muse;
And where, lest erring man should stray,
Truth's blameless teacher leads the way!
Lorn tenant of the peaceful glade,
Emblem of virtue in the shade,
Rearing thy head to brave the storm
That would thine innocence deform!
Of all the flow'rs that greet the spring,
Of all the flow'rs the seasons bring,
To me, while doom'd to linger here,
The lowly primrose shall be dear!
Sprung like a primrose in the wild,
Short, like the primrose, Marion smil'd;
The spring that gave her blossoms birth,
Tore them for ever from the earth;
Nor left, ah me! one bud behind,
To tranquillize a parent's mind,
Save that sweet bud which strews the way,
Blest hope! to an eternal May!
And falt'ring is that tuneful tongue,
And dim that closing eye;
And ev'ry nerve is now unstrung,
And death is in that sigh!
“ Oh! were I in my father's bed!"
The fainting suff'rer cried:
His weeping mother hung her head
He kiss'd her cheek, and died:
They bore him to his father's bed,
The bed to him so dear:
They bore him to his father's bed
That bed is now his bier!
Oh! long, long will his playmates look
For Mowbray, as they roam;
And never will his parents brook
Their childless, cheerless home!
With him, when age should comfort crave,
They bop'd to end their cate!
Now nought, but hope beyond the grave,
Can smooth their
passage
there!
To the Memory of Christian, Wife of the Rev. C. H. White,
Rector of Shalden, Hants, and Daughter of the late A. St. Barbe, Esq. who died July
3, 1806, in the Twenty-second Year of her Age.
Fellow of Oriel Coll. Oxford, and Rector of Maidford, Northamptonshire.
1.
THILE thy fond partner, wrapt in mental gloom,
Or hangs in silent anguish o'er thy dust,
Wbile reason tells him all his grief is just!--
Accept, blest spirit! from a brother's tongue
Those praises angels have already sung.-
-Tho' weak his voice--permit him to enshrine,
In short-liv’d verse, undying worth like thine.
- That strangers hence may learn, thy form and mind
Contain'd whatever sense to beauty join'd.
A husband's idol!-and a parent's pride!-
Fond friendship’s boast!- which charm’d the world—and died !
-To warn that thoughtless world no art could save
Perfection's favourite from an early grave!
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