Since earthly eye but ill can bear I know not if I could have borne Extinguish'd, not decay'd; As stars that shoot along the sky Shine brightest as they fall from high. As once I wept, if I could weep, My tears might well be shed, One vigil o'er thy bed; Uphold thy drooping head; Yet how much less it were to gain, And more thy buried love endears STANZAS FOR MUSIC [Publ. 1816] O lachrymarum fons, tenero sacros 50 60 70 THERE's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away, When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay; 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past. Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt, or ocean of excess: FARE THEE WELL [Publ. 1816] 'Alas! they had been friends in Youth; But never either found another To free the hollow heart from paining- The marks of that which once hath been.' FARE thee well! and if for ever, 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. And when thon wouldst solace gather, Though his care she must forego? When her little hands shall press thee, Think of him thy love had bless'd! Should her lineaments resemble Those thou nevermore may 'st see, Then thy heart will softly tremble With a pulse yet true to me. All my faults perchance thou knowest, Every feeling hath been shaken; Pride, which not a world could bow, Bows to thee by thee forsaken, Even my soul forsakes me now: But 't is done-all words are idle- Fare thee well!-thus disunited, STANZAS TO AUGUSTA [Publ. 1816] THOUGH the day of my destiny 's over, And the star of my fate hath declined, Thy soft heart refused to discover 40 50 60 The faults which so many could find; Though thy soul with my grief was acquainted, It shrunk not to share it with me, And the love which my spirit hath painted It never hath found but in thee. Then when nature around me is smiling, The last smile which answers to mine, 10 I do not believe it beguiling, Because it reminds me of thine; Though human, thou didst not deceive me, Though woman, thou didst not forsake, Though loved, thou forborest to grieve me, Though slander'd, thou never couldst shake, 30 Though trusted, thou didst not disclaim me, Though parted, it was not to fly, Though watchful, 't was not to defame me, Nor, mute, that the world might belie. Yet I blame not the world, nor despise it, Nor the war of the many with oneIf my soul was not fitted to prize it, 'Twas folly not sooner to shun: I have found that, whatever it lost me, 40 From the wreck of the past, which hath perish'd, Thus much I at least may recall, It hath taught me that what I most cherish'd Deserved to be dearest of all: In the wild waste there still is a tree, EPISTLE TO AUGUSTA My sister! my sweet sister! if a name |