Gif that the modre (God her blesse!) And kissen devoute the holy croce. Somdel of Saintè Cicilie, And chieflie what he auctorethe At length her constant eyelids come 1819. P TO FANNY. HYSICIAN Nature! let my spirit blood! O ease my heart of verse and let me rest; Throw me upon thy Tripod, till the flood Of stifling numbers ebbs from my full breast. I come I see thee, as thou standest there, Ah! dearest love, sweet home of all my fears, A smile of such delight, As brilliant and as bright, As when with ravish'd, aching, vassal eyes, I gaze, I gaze! Who now, with greedy looks, eats up my feast? 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 Voluptuous visions into the warm air, Though swimming through the dance's dangerous wreath; Be like an April day, Smiling and cold and gay, A temperate lily, temperate as fair; Why, this—you'll say, my Fanny! is not true: Put your soft hand upon your snowy side, Where the heart beats: confess-'tis nothing new Must not a woman be 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! Whose heart goes flutt'ring for you everywhere, Nor, when away you roam, Dare keep its wretched home, Love, love alone, his pains severe and many: From torturing jealousy. Ah! if you prize my subdued soul above The sacramental cake: Let none else touch the just new-budded flower W ΤΟ HAT can I do to drive away Remembrance from my eyes? for they have seen, Aye, an hour ago, my brilliant Queen! Touch has a memory. O say, love, say, What can I do to kill it and be free In my old liberty? 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 Unintellectual, yet divine to me; Divine, I say!-What sea-bird o'er the sea Winging along where the great water throes? To get anew Those moulted feathers, and so mount once more Above, above The reach of fluttering Love, And make him cower lowly while I soar? Foisted into the canon-law of love;- Seize on me unawares,― Where shall I learn to get my peace again? O, for some sunny spell To dissipate the shadows of this hell! Say they are gone,-with the new dawning light Steps forth my lady bright! O, let me once more rest My soul upon that dazzling breast! Let once again these aching arms be placed, And let me feel that warm breath here and there Give me those lips again! Enough! Enough! it is enough for me |