Vol. 1

H.T. [1] 
Vol. I.


Quivi le piante più che altrove ombrose
E l'erba molle, e il fresco dolce appare.

Poliziano. [3] 
Sweet are thy banks, Oh Vartree! when at morn
Their velvet verdure glistens with the dew;
When fragrant gales by softest Zephyrs borne
Unfold the flowers, and ope their petals new.
How bright the lustre of thy silver tide5
Which winds reluctant to forsake the vale,
How play the quiv'ring branches on thy side
And lucid catch the sunbeam in the gale!
And sweet thy shade at Noon's more fervid hours,
When faint we quit the upland, gayer lawn,10
To seek the freshness of thy shelt'ring bowers,
Thy chesnut glooms, where day can scarcely dawn.
How soothing in the dark, sequester'd grove
To see thy placid waters seem to sleep,
Pleas'd they reflect the sombre tints they love,15
As unperceiv'd in silent peace they creep.
The deepest foliage bending o'er thy wave
Tastes thy pure kisses with embracing arms,
While each charm'd Dryad stoops her limbs to lave,
Thy smiling Naiad meets her sister charms.20
Beneath the fragrant lime, or spreading beech,
The bleating flocks in panting crowds repose,
Their voice alone my dark retreat can reach,
While peace and silence all my soul compose.
Here Linda [4]  rest! the dangerous path forsake25
Where Folly lures thee, and where Vice ensnares,
Thine Innocence and Peace no longer stake,
Nor barter solid good for brilliant cares.
Shun the vain bustle of the senseless crowd
Where all is hollow that appears like joy;30
Where, the soft claims of feeling disallow'd,
Continual hopes deceive, and the vex'd soul annoy. [5] 
Hast thou not trod each vain and giddy maze
By Flattery led o'er Pleasure's gayest field?
Bask'd in the sunshine of her brightest blaze35
And prov'd whate'er she can her vot'ries [6]  yield?
That full completion of each glowing hope,
Which youth and novelty could scarce bestow,
From the last dregs of joy's exhausted cup
Canst thou expect thy years mature shall know?40
Hast thou not tried the vanities of Life
And all the poor, mean joys of Fashion known?
Blush then to hold with Wisdom longer strife,
Submit at length a better guide to own.
Here woo the Muses in the scenes they love,45
Let Science near thee take her patient stand,
Each weak regret for gayer hours reprove,
And yield thy soul to Reason's calm command.

[Augt 9 1797]


Oh Florence! dearest Love! I have bid thee then Adieu!
And all my hopes and pleasures thy parting steps pursue,
Yet something love has gain'd to cheer me tho' we part
And the kiss he [8]  then allow'd me still thrills upon my heart:
Oh yet methinks I see thee as on that fatal day5
When my faltering lips refus'd the last farewell to say;
Love whisper'd to my hopes as thine hand I trembling held
That its soft and gentle pressure kind sympathy reveal'd,
While Memory, delighted each image to retrace,
Recalls each varied look of that mild expressive face;10
Each word that there was utter'd, most forcibly imprest
With the accent, and the voice seem graven on my breast;
Yet beams upon my soul that soft enchanting glance,
As pensive and alone she saw me first advance;
I see the dew of Love just glisten in her eye,15
And her bosom gently swell with the stifled, tender sigh:
Oh rapture breathing sigh! inestimable tear!
Which first could whisper hope that to Florence I was dear.
Oh! moment still most priz'd, that embolden'd me to seek
With lips too fondly daring her half averted cheek!20
The sweet electric force which shot thro' every nerve
In fond remembrance cherish'd I carefully preserve;
Yet half afraid I view the anger and surprise
Which arm'd with transient light'ning the lustre of her eyes;
I see the mantling roses yet glow upon her face,25
The deep celestial blush that doubl'd every grace;
Not half I priz'd the treasure thus snatched with trembling joy,
'Till tenderness return'd to her pardon-beaming eye;
Nor vain was my repentance that bad her anger cease
And bless her sorrowing lover, and let him part in peace:30
I see the tender smile, & still methinks I feel
That hand so soft extended my pardon bid to seal;
The orders to depart Oh! yet too well I hear,
And the cruel word farewell still vibrates in my ear,
That pause of silent sorrow, that look of parting love,35
From my heart the dear ideas Ah never can remove!
Oh Florence thou art gone! to see thee now no more
I watch with fond impatience thy lov'd, propitious door;
Yet thine image still is here, it soothes me as I mourn,
And smiles as thou, my Florence! wilt smile on thy return.40
It looks with that complacence which thou wert wont to shew,
And rich is blest remembrance kind pictures to bestow,
It paints the future prospects with Hope's most brilliant hue
And tells me that my Florence will evermore be true.

The Hours of Peace [9] 

Stay hours of peace! awhile delay,
Awhile with grateful Linda stay,
And hear her yet contented say
Stay hours of peace!
What tho' no more the midnight ball5
Lures me to answer Folly's call,
I shun well-pleas'd th'illumin'd hall
For hours of peace.
For you I gladly would forego,
The splendid circle's idle shew,10
Nor sigh for more than you bestow
Dear hours of peace.
What hath the gay, the busy earth
In all its scenes of noisy mirth,
More sweet than thee, my social hearth15
In hours of peace?
A Mother's partial, tender smile,
May sure your rapid flight beguile,
And woo your stay a little while
Oh hours of peace!20
The young Anacreon [10]  too shall sing,
And as he wakes the magic string,
Charm'd by his notes on hov'ring wing
Stay hours of peace!
No power hath here the wintry gloom,25
The Teian rose [11]  shall sweetly bloom,
And shed a graceful, soft perfume
O'er hours of peace.
The laugh of sportive innocence,
The look of bright intelligence,30
Shall bless the hours of taste and sense
The hours of peace
No stern, reproving glance ye meet,
No look but breathes affection sweet,
Then speed not hence your feathery feet35
Blest hours of peace!
What charms these white-wing'd hours can stay?
Alas, while thus I idly pray,
E'en now how swift you haste away
Dear hours of peace.40
Like some capricious beauty, coy,
When most persuasion we employ,
Most swift you fly the offer'd joy,
Oh hours of peace!
But time shall ne'er your charms devour,45
For memory still with soothing power,
Shall number o'er each happy hour,
The hours of peace.

The Faded Flowers [12] 

Lovely objects of decay,
Lo! before th'admiring eye,
How your beauties fade away!
How your brilliant colours fly!
Fondly valued, vainly lov'd,5
Why so quickly must you droop?
E're my envious pencil prov'd
How your lustre mocks its hope.
Yet a little longer live,
'Till my powerless art has tried10
Immortality to give
To your transitory pride.
Still my imitative care
Sought to keep what I deplore,
And what Nature could not spare,15
Fain would Art for me restore.
Scarcely sketch'd the outlines lie,
Faintly trac'd with mimic hues,
E're my lovely models die,
And their glowing tints refuse.20
Image of my joys, alas
E're remembrance marks their stay!
Thus my brilliant pleasures pass,
"Glories of an April day!" [13] 
Memory lend thy magic art,25
Let thy renovating power,
On the tablets of my heart
Stamp each lov'd, regretted hour.
Images of past delight
May I you at least preserve!30
Still let joy's illusion bright
Thrill thro' each enchanted nerve!
Paint the voice, the look, the smile,
All that charm'd my cheated soul
All that sorrow could beguile,35
Soothing cares with soft control.
Ah they fade! the charm is o'er,
Faint, and yet more faint they grow,
Tones belov'd, but heard no more,
Beams of bliss, and Love's own glow!40
Essence of such subtle power,
Sure no chemic art can seize,
And the sweets which charm this hour
Once exhal'd no more can please.

Written at the commencement of Spring.
1802 [14] 

Oh, breathe once more upon my brow
Soft gale of Spring, forgotten never!
For thus thy breath appear'd as now
In days of joy, ah lost for ever!
Put forth thy fresh and tender leaves5
Soft Eglantine, of fragrance early,
Thee, Memory first reviv'd perceives,
From childhood's dawn still welcom'd yearly.
Burst from thy leafy sheath once more,
Bright hyacinth! thy splendor shewing,10
The sun thy hues shall now restore
In all their foreign lustre glowing.
Oh, plume again thy jetty wing,
Sweet Blackbird charm thy listning lover!
For thus, ev'n thus I heard thee sing,15
When hopes could smile that now are over.
And thou, dear Redbreast, let me hear
Exchang'd once more thy wintry measure,
Thy notes proclaim the spring-tide near,
As they were wont in hours of pleasure.20
The lark shall mount the sapphire skies,
And wake the grateful song of gladness,
One general peal from earth shall rise
And man alone shall droop in sadness.
'Twas here, by peace and friendship blest,25
I paid to Spring my yearly duty,
When last she deck'd her fragrant breast
In all the glowing pride of beauty.
'Twas here the cordial look of love
From every eye benignly flowing,30
Bade the kind hours in union move
Each lip the ready smile bestowing.
But where the blooming cherub Boy
Who hail'd with us the pleasant season?
Whose smiles recall'd each childish joy35
That sadder years resign'd to reason.
Those bright, those laughing eyes, where Love
And Innocence are seen embracing,
Those fairy hands that graceful move
Their fancy-formed circles tracing.40
Oh! haste as thou wert wont to do,
We'll mount yon shrubby steep together,
Thy care the first wood-flowers shall shew
Thyself all blooming as the weather.
Haste, sweetest babe, belov'd of all!45
Our cheerful hours without thee languish,
Ah hush, he hears no more thy call,
Ah hush, nor wake a parent's anguish!
That lip of roses glows no more,
That beaming glance in night is clouded;50
Those bland endearments all are o'er,
In death's dark pall for ever shrouded.
No, Angel sweetness! not for ever,
Tho' Heav'n from us thy charms hath hidden,
We joy for thee, tho' forc'd to sever,55
Oh favor'd guest, thus early bidden!
Ev'n o'er thy dying couch, sweet boy!
A heav'nly Messenger presided,
He beckon'd thee to seats of joy,
To fields of endless pleasure guided.60
No, not for thee this bitter tear,
It falls for those yet doom'd to sorrow;
Who feel the load of life severe,
Who mourn the past, nor hope the morrow.
It falls for those who left behind65
Must fill their woes allotted measure;
Who muse on hopes to death consign'd,
On visions of departed pleasure.
For those who thro' life's dreary night
Full many a watchful hour shall number,70
And sigh for long-delayed light
Or envy those who early slumber.

to my
HARP [15] 

Oh my lov'd harp! companion dear!
Sweet soother of my secret grief,
No more thy sounds my soul must cheer,
No more afford a soft relief.
When anxious cares my heart opprest,5
When doubts distracting tore my soul,
The pains which heav'd my swelling breast
Thy gentle sway could oft control.
My sickening heart saw hope deferr'd
And sought with thee to cheat the hours,10
Thy voice my ear delighted heard
And conquer'd felt vexation's powers [16] 
Each well-remember'd, practis'd strain,
The cheerful dance, the tender song,
Recall'd, with pensive, pleasing pain,15
Some image lov'd and cherish'd long.
Where joy sat smiling o'er my fate,
And mark'd each bright, and happy day,
When partial friends around me sat,
And taught my lips the simple lay.20
And when by disappointment griev'd,
I saw some darling hope o'erthrown,
Thou hast my secret pain reliev'd,
O'er thee I wept, unseen, alone.
Oh must I leave thee, must we part,25
Dear partner of my happiest days!
I may forget thy much lov'd art,
Unus'd thy melody to raise.
But ne'er can memory cease to love
Those scenes where I thy charms have felt,30
Tho' I no more thy power may prove,
Which taught my soften'd heart to melt.
Forc'd to forego with thee this spot,
Endear'd by many a tender tie,
Where rosy pleasure bless'd my lot,35
And sparkled in my cheated eye.
Yet still thy strings, in Fancy's ear,
With soothing melody shall play,
Thy silver sounds I oft shall hear,
To pensive gloom a silent prey.40

Post nublia Phoebus. [17] 

See, my love, yon angry deep,
Hear its wild tumultuous roar,
While the storm with furious sweep
Drives the billows to the shore.
On its agitated breast5
Mark yon vessel rudely tost;
And the mariner distrest
'Midst the 'whelming ruin lost.
Such the storm's distracting power,
Fate prepares for wretched Love,10
O'er our heads such tempests lower,
Doom'd distress, and fear to prove.
Ah! behold what sudden peace!
View the calm which reigns at last:
How the winds their contest cease15
Hush'd is every ruder blast.
The darkling gloom begins to fly,
The sun shines forth with cheering ray,
The wat'ry mirror of the sky
Brightens in the smiling day.20
The vale reviving glows again,
Again th'illumined hills shine clear,
The shadowy clouds flit o'er the plain,
And swiftly shifting, disappear.
So, my Love, the Heav'ns for us25
Shall assume a kinder form,
Our distress shall vanish thus,
Thus shall fly our cruel storm.
Bright the day for us shall shine,
Gloomy doubt shall disappear,30
Peace shall to our prayers incline
Fled our sorrow, care and fear.

The superannuated guide's
to the
Seven Churches
May 27, 1796 [18] 

Farewell, ye awful scenes sublime,
Farewell, long-known, oft trodden spot,
The weary steps once more I climb,
And seek once more my lonely cot.
What hope remains? life's ebbing tide5
Can scarce suffice to bear me home;
All other prospects are denied,
Save my last rest, the lowly tomb.
No more must I yon brow ascend,
A welcome guide those scenes to trace,10
My fainting limbs beneath me bend,
I touch the verge of life's short space.
And you, farewell, who gaily now
Press the green sod with footsteps light,
Enjoy, while youth will yet allow,15
Life's transient pleasures ere their flight.
Farewell! alas, you too must part!
You too the parting pang must know!
Each fond indulgence of the heart
You too must forc'd at length forego!20
How many a band like you I've viewed,
How many a charm'd and charming pair,
The rugged path like you pursued,
With hearts as light, and forms as fair.
How oft I gain'd the frowning steep,25
And rous'd the echoes from the hill!
How silent now the voices sleep,
Which then the vales with joy could fill!
O'er the clear mirror of the flood
Where now you sportive, careless stray,30
The lovers oft delighted stood
And smil'd, and charm'd the hours away.
Go thoughtless youth! to yonder brink.
Say have they left one slightest trace,
There now survey thy form, and think35
How soon will pass the fleeting grace.
Ere yet you quit the sacred pile
The ruin'd heap of reverend stone;
Ah stop with fond regret a while,
And sigh for hours forever gone!40
Farewell! whate'er your future fate,
Still in your minds preserve this day,
On it may dear remembrance wait,
Long in your hearts each image stay.
And if such roses pleasure flings45
O'er thy sequester'd, tranquil days;
Scorn not her gifts, nor scorch her wings
In dissipation's eager blaze.
Alas! should life protracted long
Give you an age like mine to bear,50
What transient joys to man belong
You then shall own, how small the share!
The pilgrimage of life's dull road
To others now I leave to trace,
The weary way at last I've trod,55
And suffering toil'd th'alloted space.

Written at the Devil's Bridge in

Hic licet occultos proferre impune dolores.

Propertius. [20] 
When pleasure departs what a blank there remains,
How dreary each object around us appears!
While the soul sick of life from each solace refrains,
And in solitude longs to indulge in vain tears.
If the eye of compassion has ceas'd to look kind,5
If the voice which delighted no longer is heard,
If sorrows unutter'd oppress the sad mind,
And the labouring breast by no comfort is cheer'd.
When 'tis past, and the moment of pleasure is o'er,
When to joys that are gone the sad mourner returns,10
While memory faithful yet guards in her store
The hopes he has lost, and the friend whom he mourns.
Oh bear him to scenes, where rude nature appears,
Let Solitude sooth him, and pensive repose,
No eye to restrain the sweet freedom of tears,15
No ear to forbid the expression of woes.
Near woods, interrupted by white jutting rocks,
Oh! place him beside some rivers dark course;
Where the torrents impetuous gush thro brown oaks,
And the steep groves re-echo their murmurings hoarse.20
In a glen deep sequester'd, surrounded by woods,
By mountains o'er-top'd inaccessibly high,
Let him view the swell'd stream's irrestible floods
Unappall'd by the tempest which roars thro' the sky.
Oh! there let him wander thro' underwoods dark,25
Unmolested by man, by no comforter teaz'd,
No stranger unfeeling his sorrows to mark,
And unheard be the groans which his bosom have eas'd.
When Nature deplores her lost beauty and pride,
Her drear lamentations more soothing shall sound,30
The voice of complaint to his heart is allied,
And in desolate scenes is sad sympathy found.
Let Fancy to May's rosy bosom retire,
And quit the sad season, and shun the sad heart,
In the soft vacant breast let her passion inspire,35
And double each pleasure by magical art.
For treacherous power! while seeming to cheer,
To sooth his distress, and to soften his woes,
The scenes thou recallest but rouse the sad tear,
And thy warm, glowing pictures destroy his repose.40
In the regions of sorrow thy lustre is vain,
It there on no exquisite prospects can shine,
Oh! add not to anguish, nor magnify pain
But the wretched to wisdom, and reason resign.
Thy aid he requests not, he asks not relief45
From the cruel assistance which thou can'st impart.
The image of joy but awakens his grief,
Of joy, which no longer inhabits his heart.
But thou, cheering Hope! sweet peace-breathing guest,
Assure him bright joy on his days soon shall shine,50
Dispel this sad gloom, and revisit his breast,
And whisper "Soft pleasure again shall be thine--"
'Tis thou can'st pour balm on his anguish alone,
Tho' nought can restore, yet thou canst relieve,
For his losses compensate, his sorrows atone,55
And teach him with calm resignation to grieve.

Written Jan:y
1799 [21] 

Farewell, ye leafless woods!
Which dreary frown o'er the swelled, turbid floods;
Your rude tempestuous roar
Shall howl discordant in my ears no more:
Congenial is your shade5
To the sad Lover and forsaken Maid.
Here spread your sombre gloom,
And 'mid the frozen plains your brownest tints assume.
Hence you unsocial band!
Retirement, and her offspring mute,10
Study, who drives afar with ebon wand
Joy's jocund voice, and Pleasure's silver lute,
Pale science with her patient lamp,
Silence, assiduous Thought,
Calm Contemplation, by the Muses taught,15
And Application whom no toils can damp,
With stooping gait, contracted brow,
And eyes whose keen research would no repose allow.
But come, ye dear remember'd joys,
Hail delightful smoke and noise,20
The hurried morn, the daily stroll,
Where the gilded chariots roll,
While in every crowded street
Pleas'd the lounging gazers meet,
Glitt'ring shops, and splendid sights,25
Gaiety's long festive nights,
Balls and concerts, routs and plays,
Where the midnight flambeaux blaze,
Joys that gem dark winter's crown,
All the dear delights of Town.30
At the call of mirth and sport
Hope invites us to resort;
Now let plumy-footed Glee
And ever new Variety,
Lead the sprightly hours along,35
Festive mirth, and choral song;
Hail busy Town! and hail with thee
Smiling, lov'd Society!
Welcome frolick's laughing train,
Now commences Pleasure's reign;40
Quick Imagination pass
Before my eyes thy magic glass,
Paint the scenes so bright, so gay,
The lighted hall at once display,
Let me hear the jocund strain,45
View the light fantastic train,
As with "many twinkling" feet [22] 
The measur'd cadence oft they beat,
Wreath'd with ever blooming flowers,
Forgetting the uncounted hours,50
Where the brisk, unwearied viol
Calls each active grace to trial,
While the gliding, happy maid
Conscious views the homage paid
From the circling, crowded rows,55
Glances of admiring beaux!
Round the glowing fair they run
When her pleasing task is done,
Smiles, and adulation bland
Eager ask her vacant hand,60
'Till her soft voice, and melting eyes
Declare what youth obtains the prize.
Short the toil, the rest how sweet,
When delighted partners meet,
Where no prudent Chaperone's eye65
The dangerous whisper can espy,
And the heedless, happy band
All around them careless stand;
Or when the signal bids them share
The banquet spread with generous care,70
The watchful youth attentive flies,
Where his favorite maid he spies,
Her yielding hand he then may press,
And every tender hope confess,
And every swain declare his love,75
While soft'ning eyes the tale approve.
Fancy scenes like this bestows
Images like these she shews,
As thro' the crowd and mingling dance
Quick I send my eager glance,80
And as some well-known friend I spy,
The sudden start, the sparkling eye,
Joy's brilliant smile, and roseate glow
Speak with power no words can know.
Let such lively warm delights85
Animate remember'd nights;
And not unfrequent may my ear
Bannister, or Siddons hear, [23] 
And gratify my curious eyes
With all a decent stage supplies;90
And oft with soothing, magic power,
Let music charm the evening hour,
Warbling soft his melting lays,
Such emotions skill'd to raise,
As the feeling breast may move95
To tenderness, and tranquil Love:
Me eloquence shall oft invite
Watchful to pass th'unwearied night,
When 'midst the Senate's crowded walls
On truth and virtue loud he calls,100
And bids th'unbiass'd patriot free
Nobly stand forth with energy;
Or leads me to the sacred shrine
Where charity and pity shine,
Where pious hopes the soul inspire,105
And kindling breathe celestial fire,
While mute, enraptur'd crowds attend
The widow's and the orphan's friend.
Thus let each feeling fast be bound
By soft persuasion's silver sound110
'Till sweetly stealing o'er my soul
The smooth, melodious current roll;
And every captivated sense
Own the powers of Eloquence.
Oft, when calmest hours delight,115
The chosen few whom we invite,
Meeting at the close of day,
In concert decent, sprightly, gay,
Bless my home, dear cherished centre!
Where no visitors can enter,120
From intrusion sweetly free,
Banish'd all formality.
There we taste serenest joys,
Free from rude and boistrous noise
There the soul delights to meet125
Kindred soul in converse sweet,
There the heart expands, and there
Benevolence and peace appear:
The anxious brow we there unbend,
And every eye reflects a friend.130
Reserve's cold frost there melts away
Beneath the social, genial ray,
While around the blazing pile
The close-contracted circle smile;
Or at the board the sparkling bowl135
Animates the brilliant soul,
And mingling there with wit, we see
Sense and calm sobriety,
Mild indulgence, white-robed candour,
Warding off the shafts of slander,140
To truth's just sentence still referring,
Or thro' partial kindness erring;
And evermore our feasts to bless
A constant guest be Cheerfulness.
There oft let genius guide the tongue,145
And taste approve th'unlaboured song,
Let partial judgment smile serene,
Or criticize with gentlest mien;
And still refine our merriment
Glist'ning, tender Sentiment!150
Sweet dove-ey'd virgin, whom of yore
Venus to Apollo bore, [24] 
And, gifted by the sacred nine,
Plac'd her near Dian's silver shrine;
That her soft voice might pity move,155
Excuse the faults of erring Love,
And for her brother's crimes atone,
With delicacy all her own:
Pleas'd with the infants gentle charms,
The Graces nurs'd her in their arms;160
Smiled at her pains, her timid fear,
The ready blush, the starting tear,
Inspired her lips, and as she grew
Taught her each winning art they knew;
Her quick perception, liquid tones,165
All her father's genius owns;
While her fascinating eyes,
Balmy breath, and melting sighs,
The tender smile, the swelling breast
Shew the Queen of Love confest.170
Hand in hand with dimpled Mirth
Still may she grace our social hearth,
While Love and Friendship hover round
The pure & consecrated ground;
Oh hours of bliss! Oh nights divine!175
When shall such feasts again be mine?
Less bright were those which once could charm
The bard within his Sabine farm, [25] 
And such to me could Town afford
When peace, & pleasure bless'd my board,180
And such to me if thou canst give
Town in thee I still would live!

For the grave of
Written at Exmouth
1794 [26] 

Stranger, who hither shall be led,
In search of health, or social mirth,
Approach in peace this silent bed
Of sacred, monumental earth.
If amid scenes of gay delights,5
Yon lowly roof which rises near,
Affords thee calmly, shelter'd nights,
And peaceful days as I knew here.
Oh, then disdain not here to turn!
Nor yet disdain this humble song;10
Tho' in no lofty strains I mourn,
Nor speak my griefs in language strong.
Yet to my Isis tears are due,
Affection sure some tears may claim,
And I will weep a friend so true,15
Nor deem the tribute worthy shame.
A friend whose fond, and faithful zeal
No poverty could fright away,
Whose heart could no resentment feel
Nor own ingratitude's proud sway.20
Who pleas'd desir'd no state more sweet
Than still to live for me alone,
And ever happy at my feet,
Only my absence could bemoan.
When from afar my step she knew25
Oh with what rapture would she burn!
Alas, in life how very few
I now can glad by my return!
Who now beneath my silent roof
Shall spring delighted at my voice?30
By each endearing, artless proof,
Shew that they can like her rejoice?
The grateful tokens of that love,
That love sincere could ever please,
And I rejoice I ne'er could prove,35
The cruel wounder of her ease.
Ne'er in a wanton, savage hour
Could I for sport inflict a pain,
Or wilfully exert a power
Which might her happiness restrain.40
Her form was graceful, manners mild,
And more than canine sense her share;
Her sportive charms my hours beguil'd
When stern I felt thy influence care!
The gay companion of my joys,45
Partner of hours for ever dear,
The witness of my secret sighs,
And many a lonely, bitter tear.
No more she now requires my care,
For ever silent, ever cold,50
A little earth the only share
Of her I must no more behold.
Then let this quiet dust I crave
Be still with pious care preserv'd,
Nor e'er disturb the humble grave55
Of her who hath so much deserv'd.
So may the earth with flowers be strew'd,
Wherein at last, thou too must rest,
And the green turf with tears bedew'd
Lye lightly on thy gentle breast.60

Forget me not! [27] 

Oh Thou! whom ne'er my constant heart
One moment hath forgot,
Tho' fate severe has bid us part,
Yet still forget me not.
Tho' thee, while tedious moons must pass5
Those eyes have vainly sought;
Tho' tears are vain, nor thou, alas!
Canst hear forget me not.
Yet let not distance from thy breast
My image ever blot,10
Let our fond friendship bear this test,
Absent, forget me not.
When care, and doubt, and cruel fear
With anxious love have fought,
This soothing hope my heart could cheer,15
Thou wilt forget me not.
When Fortune sings her syren song,
And Pleasure guilds thy lot,
When smiling joys around thee throng,
Oh then forget me not!20
When thou once more those scenes shalt view,
That dear remember'd spot,
Will Love each tender word renew,
But chief forget me not?
Where first I shar'd thy smiles, and where25
My hours with bliss were fraught,
Will Fancy still present me there
Sighing forget me not?
When thou the festive band shall join
Will Memory as she ought,30
Making some fond regrets still mine
Bid thee forget me not?
And when some happy, favor'd fair
Enjoys the envied lot,
The graceful dance with thee to share35
Then, thou forget me not.
When the gay swarms around thee fly
To allure thy tender thought,
Ah see my sad, my earnest eye
Bid thee forget me not!40
If thou couldst tear from me that love
My fondest truth hath bought,
Let this forbid thy heart to rove
Forget, forget me not!
Tho' charms and wealth adorn the fair,45
Alas, I boast of nought!
Yet, only yet, our Love compare
Yet ah, forget me not!
If Vanity enchanted tries
To 'excuse' gainst Love the fault,50
Think on thy vows, our mutual sighs
Ah then forget me not!
When Mirth to grace thy social feast
Each happy friend hath brought,
My image fading from thy breast,55
Wilt thou forget me not?
When the full bowl around the board
Hath chas'd each sober thought,
Wilt thou to sense by Love restor'd
Ev'n then forget me not?60
Will Love that delicacy prove,
To vulgar minds untaught,
Forbid thy lips to boast thy love
Yet still forget me not?
When frolick rules the sportive hour65
And Mirth alone is sought,
Ah yet, resist her utmost power
Ah yet, forget me not!
When Fate the golden web destroys
Which Pleasure gaily wrought,70
Tears with destructive hand thy joys,
Oh then forget me not!
When Sorrow comes thy joys to chase
Each hour with anguish fraught,
Still let me in thine heart have place75
Ah still forget me not!
And must thy gentle heart then know
The pangs by Sorrow taught?
And with that heart oppressed by woe
Ev'n then forget me not!80
Must that dear eye be swoln by grief
Be fix'd by torturing thought?
Wilt thou from me expect relief?
Wilt thou forget me not?
Ah no! may favoring Heav'n bestow85
On thee the happiest lot!
Tho' far from me no anguish know
But yet forget me not!
And when at length thou may'st return
Delay and care forgot,90
Like me with fond impatience burn
Ah haste! forget me not!
When that bless'd moment comes at last
Which long I've vainly sought,
I'll own with tears, my sorrows past,95
Thou did'st forget me not.
Wilt thou each suffering sweetly cheer
With this enchanting thought,
That vain was every jealous fear,
Thou couldst forget me not? 100
And when the fatal hour is come
And my last rest is sought,
Oh wilt thou weep upon my tomb
And still forget me not?
When the cold earth this breast shall hide105
And cover every fault,
With thee my heart shall still abide,
Whispering forget me not.
Hov'ring around thee, ever near
To sooth each anxious thought,110
Then know 'tis me, when thou shalt hear
Softly, "forget me not!"

HOPE [28] 

Heu! spes nequiequam dulces, atque irrita vota!

Gray [29] 
When the bitter source of sorrow,
When the last farewell is sigh'd,
With no hope to cheer to-morrow,
Joy's kind promises denied:
Yet we dwell with ling'ring pleasure5
On that distant, doubtful day;
Which may yield us back our treasure
All our sorrows to repay;
Can the tender heart declare,
Meeting what it fondly loves,10
Why the bliss cannot compare
With the pang which parting proves?
Happy hour, so long expected,
Joy impatiently desired!
Disappointed, half dejected,15
What have I from thee acquired?
Take again the transient pleasure,
Willingly I yield it up,
But restore my dearest treasure,
Give me back delicious Hope!20

A faithful friend is the medicine of life [30] 

Son of Sirach
In the dreams of delight which with ardour we seek
Oft the phantom of sorrow appears;
And the roses of pleasure, which bloom on your cheek
Must be steep'd in the dew of your tears.
'Mid the fountain of bliss when it sparkles most bright5
Salt mixtures imbitter the spring, [31] 
Tho' its lustre may tremble thro' bowers of delight,
In the draught disappointment will sting.
But if Heav'n hath one cup of enjoyment bestow'd
Unmingled and sweet as its own;10
In the streams of affection its bounty hath flow'd,
And there we may taste it alone.
But the pure simple drops Love would seize as his prize,
And defile them with passion's foul tide;
While the bowl he prepares as it dazzles our eyes15
The poison of anguish can hide.
Let friendship the stream, as it flows calm and clear,
Receive unpolluted for me,
Or if tenderness mingle a sigh or a tear,
The draught still the sweeter shall be.20
But let me reject the too high flavour'd bowl
Affectation or flattery compose.
From sincerity's urn thus transparent shall roll
The cordial of peace and repose.
Oh! give me the friend from whose warm faithful breast25
The sigh breathes responsive to mine.
Where my cares may obtain the soft pillow of rest
And my sorrows may love to recline.
Not the friend who my hours of pleasure will share
But abide not the season of grief,30
Who flies from the brow that is darken'd by care,
And the silence that looks for relief.
Not the friend who, suspicious of change or of guile,
Would shrink from a confidence free;
Nor him who with fondness complacent can smile35
On the eye that looks coldly on me.
As the mirror that just to each blemish or grace,
To myself will my image reflect,
But to none but myself will that image retrace,
Nor picture one absent defect.40
To my soul let my friend be a mirror as true
Thus my faults from all others conceal,
Nor absent those failings nor follies renew
Which from Heav'n and from man he should veil.


Written at the Hotwells of Bristol
July 1804. [33] 

The grey light of young day just beginning to dawn,
Thro' my casements proclaim'd the long night had withdrawn;
And the nightingale's song that had sooth'd me before
From the rocks of St Vincent resounded no more.
Now wearied with watching, exhausted by pain,5
Aurora with pity beheld me complain,
With her fresh, dewy wand light-sprinkling my breast,
"Poor sufferer," she whisper'd, "at length thou shalt rest.
From her train of sweet slumbers, and truth-giving dreams,
She takes a soft veil to oppose her strong beams,10
The kind welcome gift o'er my pillow suspends,
And at once every sense of uneasiness ends.
Its weight of oppression no more loads my breast,
My eyes gently close, and my temples have rest,
While a form all celestial appears to my view15
Array'd in bright silver, and heav'nly blue.
Her locks of pure amber with roses were bound,
Such roses ne'er glow'd on terrestrial ground;
But inhal'd the rich dews of ambrosia above,
Where Spring is eternal, unfading is Love.20
On her light, graceful form with enchantment I gaz'd,
And methought was so charm'd, that I scarce felt amaz'd,
For attraction, and tenderness liv'd in her sight,
Her voice was persuasion, her eye was delight.
But her smile, Oh, what words can the magic impart,25
Which taught her soft smile the swift road to the heart?
When the gates of pure coral dividing awhile,
Their rich, pearly treasures display'd by a smile.
Thus, extending her hand, as all radiant she smil'd,
While her brow brightly beam'd with benevolence mild,30
"Droop no longer," she cried, "thou poor fading flower"
"But receive my embrace, and revive from this hour."
As she bent o'er my pillow with peace-giving air,
A white rose gently shower'd its light leaves from her hair; [34] 
"They are thine," she exclaim'd, "they will yield thee repose,"35
And she breath'd on them fragrance more sweet than the rose.
Then clasp'd in her arms she embrac'd me benign,
And health seem'd reviv'd in the pressure divine,
Methought its mild influence new life could impart,
And remove the oppression that heav'd on my heart.40
O'er her bosom more white than the down of a swan,
A blue scarf of soft texture was gracefully drawn,
Its virtues and warmth it had stolen from her breast,
By kindness 'twas woven, by health it was blest.
This she gave from henceforward my bosom to deck,45
With the jewel that circled her beautiful neck;
"Receive them," she cried, "and thy sufferings remov'd,"
"Let these tokens of favor be gratefully lov'd."
"My fair earthly image by these thou shalt know,"
"When indulgent on thee she like gifts shall bestow,"50
"When her smiles the kind spirit of Health shall recall,"
"And on thee shall the sweet glance of tenderness fall."
She ceas'd, and behold the bright vision was gone,
And all the dear gifts with the giver had flown;
And once more I awoke from my anguish unceas'd,55
For the daemons of sickness their victim had seiz'd.
At noon, with regret while revolving my dream,
I languidly stray'd by the Avon's dark stream,
I started at once with delight and surprise,
For lo! the lov'd vision [35]  again bless'd my eyes.60
With what dullness profess'd could I doubt it before,
'Twas her figure the spirit benevolent wore?
Oh how in that form could I fail to retrace
That beauty resistless of sweetness and grace?
Nor was wanting the smile of compassionate love,65
Nor the look that would fain every suffering remove,
Nor the gifts, the dear pledges of friendship to come,
A friendship that sweetly unfading shall bloom.
Be the omen confirm'd: may the Spirit who came,
And assum'd the fair form of so cherish'd a name,70
Be the spirit of Health to my beautiful friend
And to me her bless'd favors benignant extend!


--------Toties nostros Titonia questus
Praeterit, et gelido spargit miserata flagello.

Statius [37] 
O Morn! I hail thy soft enchanting breezes,
Thy soul-felt presence, and reviving light,
Thy glad approach my anxious bosom eases,
And care & sorrow for a while take flight.
Like Youth's gay hours, or spring's delicious season,5
To me once more thy balmy breath appears,
Lost hope returns, assumes the face of reason,
And half persuades to flight oppressive fears.
While darken'd casements vainly light excluded,
I woo'd propitious sleep with languid sighs,10
Care thro' the gloom his anxious face obtruded,
And banish'd slumber from my weary eyes.
Ah! what avail the couch, or curtain'd awning,
The eider's softness, or luxurious bed?
With sleepless, aching eyes I wait thy dawning15
While the vain pillow mocks my throbbing head.
The tedious hours I told with watchful anguish,
And oft, Oh Morn! accus'd thy long delay:
I hail thee now, no longer vainly languish
But quit my couch and bless refreshing day.20
Thro' the long night impatient, sad, and weary,
How melancholy life itself appear'd!
Lo! cheerful day illumes my prospects dreary,
And how diminished are the ills I fear'd!
Tho' pleasure shine not in th'expected morrow,25
Tho' nought were promised but return of care,
The light of Heav'n could banish half my sorrow,
And comfort whispers in the fresh, cool air.
I hear the grateful voice of joy and pleasure,
All nature seems my sadness to reprove, 30
High trills the lark his wild extatic measure,
The groves resound with liberty and love.
Ere his glad voice proclaim'd thy dawning early
How oft deceiv'd I rose thy light to hail,
Thro' the damp grass hoarse accents sounded cheerly35
As woo'd his distant love the watchful rail.
Oh, you! who murmur at the call of duty,
And quit your pillow with reluctant sloth,
For whom the Morn in vain displays her beauty,
While tasteless you can greet her smiles so loth.40
You cannot know the charm which o'er me stealing
Revives my senses as I taste her breath,
Which half repays the agony of feeling
A night of horrors, only less than death.

To ---------
1802. [38] 

The youth of broken fortunes sent to roam,
And banish'd early from his smiling home,
With aching heart, indignant, and opprest,
Shame on his cheek, and anguish in his breast,
Quits the lov'd scenes he hopes no more to view,5
In foreign climes new objects to pursue.
Soon other joys, and other sorrows come,
And from his memory fades his distant home;
Yet when revolving time with changeful hand,
Once more restores him to his native land,10
When stranger-like, unwelcom'd and unknown,
He wanders o'er lawns he call'd his own;
Sees other lords possess his fair domains,
The long-lov'd woods, and dear paternal plains,
There, as he hails the well-remember'd bowers,15
Each silent witness of his earliest hours,
Regret and tenderness once more return,
His eyes their long forgotten sorrows mourn,
Dejected, desolate, he looks around,
And treads with reverence on the sacred ground,20
Feels all the cheerless gloom he felt before,
When first an exile he forsook the shore.
And fondly thinks the scenes he lov'd a boy
Partake his sorrow, as they shar'd his joy.
Ev'n thus, estrang'd, divided from thy heart,25
Reluctant tenderness I bid depart,
For friendship thus denied forgot to care,
And hush'd the feelings which you scorn'd to share.
But when affection in thy glance I spy,
Or the sweet smile of kindness meets my eye,30
Once more my melting heart with love o'erflows,
Laments its former loss, and weeps forgotten woes.

The Picture
Written for Angela.
1802. [39] 

Yes, these are the features already imprest
So deep by the pencil of love on my heart;
Within their reflection they find in this breast,
Yet something is wanting--ah! where is the art
That to painting so true can that something impart5
Oh! where is the sweetness that dwells on that lip?
And where is the smile that enchanted my soul?
From those roses no sweet dew of love can I sip,
Nor meet the soft glance which with magic control
O'er the chords of my heart so bewitchingly stole.10
Cold, cold is that eye! unimpassion'd its beams,
They speak not of tenderness, love, or delight:
Oh! where is the heart-thrilling rapture that streams
From the heav'nly blue of that circle so bright,
That sunshine of pleasure which gladden'd my sight?15
Yet come to my bosom, Oh image ador'd!
And sure thou shalt feel the soft flame of my heart;
The glow sympathetic once more be restor'd,
Once more it shall warm thee, ah cold as thou art!
And to charms so belov'd, its own feelings impart.20
Oh come! and while others his form may behold,
And he on another with fondness may smile,
To thee shall my wrongs, shall my sorrows be told,
And the kiss I may give thee, these sorrows the while
Like the memory of joys which are past shall beguile.25

Written for Emily
1802. [40] 

Fled are the summer hours of joy and love,
The brilliant season of delight is o'er,
Alone, mid leafless woods I silent rove,
The voice so dear enchants these bowers no more.
Yet sweet the stillness of this calm retreat,5
As toward the sunny bank I pensive stray,
The Muse affords her consolations sweet,
And soothes with memory's charms my lonely way.
Here, led by Flora, o'er the pathless wild,
I woo sweet nature in her private haunts,10
The rare flower which long neglected smil'd
My curious eye unspeakably enchants.
Ev'n now the season our mild autumn yields,
Forbids not yet my timid foot to roam,
A languid sun illumes still verdant fields,15
And many a ling'ring blossom still may bloom.
While smiling Science shews her Withering's page,
And half unveils her most attractive face;
Reveres the memory of the Swedish sage, [41] 
And bids me Nature's charms delighted trace.20
But if the gloomy clouds, or northern blast
Endear the comforts of our social hearth;
How swift the calm domestic hours are past!
How far superior to the hours of mirth!
Oft when my heart the call of joy would spurn,25
By sad involuntary gloom opprest;
To thee, my plaintive harp, I languid turn
Thy silver sounds can sooth my soul to rest.
Or, wrapt in lov'd imagination's dream,
I hear the voice, I see the form so dear,30
In visionary charms they present seem,
The well known accents vibrate in my ear.
I see those eyes of bright celestial blue,
Those laughing eyes, beam love and sympathy,
And o'er the mantling cheek the rosy hue,35
The blush of kindling hope, and tender joy.
I have not lost thee then, my soul's best part!
I still can hear thee speak of love and bliss,
Can pour out all the fulness of my heart,
Oh, what felicity can vie with this!40
How oft will fancy thro' the watchful nights
Picture thy form my sorrows to beguile!
The glance of soft affection now delights,
Now archly gay I see thy sportive smile!
I see thee oft with pensive, tender eye,45
Mark our blue hills thy gay horizon bound,
While fond imagination with a sigh
Measures the space of the far-distant ground.
Beyond those hills, constrain'd awhile to dwell,
Full many a lonely hour the thought can cheer,50
The shades of sorrow oft it can dispel,
And turn to tenderness the saddest tear.
But thou! whose image never quits this heart,
Art thou unmindful of thine absent love?
Ah no! I bid the cruel thought depart,55
And each suggestion of distrust reprove.
And yet, too oft awaking from my trance
My brilliant day-dream of unreal joy,
I think with anguish that thy tender glance
Has charm'd in vain my captivated eye.60
Sad victim of each heart-corroding care,
I think with pity on my future lot,
Ev'n now some happier eye thy smiles may share,
Thy vows of tenderness to me forgot.
On such sad doubts each trembling thought employ'd,65
Oh! what a dreary silence there appears,
Life offers nothing but a joyless void,
While my youth wastes in unavailing tears.
Thou can'st not see me in those cruel hours,
Thou know'st not love, but as he smiles, and charms;70
Thy stronger mind feels not dejection's powers
Nor dreads the pang which tenderness alarms.
Yet let thy heart the pains of absence share,
Oh be but constant, and I yet am blest!
Alive to each suspicion, kindly spare75
The trembling feelings of this anxious breast.

Written for Angela
1800 [42] 

Oh! seal my sad and weary eyes
Sleep! soft suspense of human woe!
The day's long hours may sure suffice
For sighs to swell, and tears to flow--
Oh! be the night to sorrow dear,5
Sacred to cheering, calm repose;
Nor let the secret, wasting tear
Forbid the watchful lid to close.
Let me resign this load of grief
In thy divinely, soothing arms,10
For thou canst yield some short relief
Ev'n to the soul remorse alarms.
How blest are they who lay them down
And sleep, to wake in life no more;
At least, if dreams of power unknown15
Haunt not death's dark, and silent shore.
What hope in life for me remains,
What prospect cheers the dreary gloom?
Ungrateful heart forget thy pains!
Love shall some future night illume.20
Banish the agonizing thought
How swift the parting hour must come,
Be future woes no longer sought,
Nor thus anticipate thy doom.
I yet may hope the blissful night25
Shall bring me all in life I prize,
And to my captivated sight
Restore the joy of those fond eyes.
His tender voice I yet shall hear,
His eye shall beam delight and love;30
The happy hour that brings him near
Awhile shall every pang remove.
Breathless with trembling joy, once more
This agitated heart shall leap;
The hours of long impatience o'er35
Shall hail once more his well known step.
Assur'd his heart is only thine,
On this dear hope enchanted dwell,
And let its influence benign
Suspicion's dreary clouds dispel.40
Come dear delusion, lov'd deceit,
This weight of fear awhile remove,
With flattering dreams my reason cheat,
Hide every form that threatens Love!
Oh say, in bonds of happiest fate,45
Our days united yet shall live,
Oh say, that peace, and love await
The fairer hours our hopes shall give.
Let me forget the cruel truth
That peace with innocence is gone,50
That ceaseless tears shall waste my youth
All hope, all bliss forever flown.

Written for Emily
1799 [43] 

Poor fond heart with pleasure swelling
What hast thou to do with joy?
Sorrow still usurps the dwelling
Scatters wide each glitt'ring toy.
From her grotto's brilliant centre5
See the Circe pleasure woo, [44] 
Oft deluded would I enter
Tho I saw remorse pursue:
Ah! thou bright, thou dangerous charmer!
Flattering trait'ress, gilded snare!10
Reason yields me now her armour,
I at length thine arts can dare.
O'er my path once sweetly smiling,
Crown'd with flowers, unseen his dart,
Love with blushes soft beguiling15
Seiz'd my fascinated heart.
Soon the traitor rudely rending
From my brow the rosy crown,
Pitiless of storms impending
Drove me forth to fate's dark frown.20
Harass'd, struggling, faint and weary
Long kind Hope reluctant clung,
Shuddering at my prospects dreary
All her brilliant chords unstrung.
Thus the quiv'ring lamp expiring25
Sudden shines with trembling beams,
Extinguish'd now, now life desiring,
Shoots forth momentary gleams.
Mute her voice, and dropt her lyre,
Now at last she sinks opprest;30
Day's bright beams with her retire
O'er me clouds, and darkness rest.
What can sooth this bitter sorrow?
What the soft assuaging balm?
In the sad impending morrow35
Who shall bid my soul be calm?
Lord of Hearts benignly callous,
Come Insensibility!
Stop the streams which feeling hallows
Smother each impassion'd sigh.40
Let this bosom idly beating
Taste at last a moments peace,
Passion's tide at length retreating
Bid the furious tempest cease.
Joy, and hope, and love, and pleasure,45
Here I bid you all adieu!
Thee, sweet peace, my last, best treasure!
All my wishes now pursue.
O'er my senses softly stealing,
Blest Indifference kindly come,50
From this agony of feeling
Hide me in thy tranquil gloom.
Banish each bright form delusive;
From my aching eyes remove
Fancy's torch with glare obtrusive;55
Visions of seductive Love!

Written for Angela
1804 [45] 

Oh! once my own, and still most dear,
Beyond the power of words to tell!
Heed not my tears, but speak sincere,
Say then, is this our last farewell.
And shall we meet indeed no more?5
And must I teach this broken heart
To know that every hope is o'er,
With this last pang that bids us part?
Oh if resolv'd to give me up
Let me not die a lingering death!10
But blast at once each withering hope
With one severe, but friendly breath.
Yet - if 'tis so; ah! let me hear
At least one pitying kind Adieu,
And let me see one grateful tear15
The memory of our loves bedew -
And Oh! with soothing flattery say
"My once belov'd!, tho' lov'd no more,"
"Dear to my heart shall ever stay"
"The image of what charm'd before!"20
"Sweet was our spring of love, tho' past"
"And thou wert ever fondly true"
"The soft remembrance long shall last"
"And pity oft the sigh renew."
But if in spite of all the fears,25
Beneath whose cruel weight I droop,
Thy tender hand shall dry my tears,
And thy soft lip still whisper hope -
Oh then my sinking spirit cheer,
And say 'twill yet indeed be sweet,30
To press me in those arms most dear
When we again in love may meet.
And thro' my solitary day,
Beloved inmate of my breast!
Still to my sadd'ning fancy say35
Whate'er may lull its griefs to rest;
Say I have fear'd, have wept in vain,
Thou art not weary of thy friend,
And thou, ev'n thou wouldst see with pain
Our loves, our joys for ever end! -- 40

OBERON [46] 

Sweet Sprite! if e'er thy fairy sway
O'er female hearts delight to reign,
Now Oberon, attend my lay
Nor let the votive song be vain!
And tho' my lips can never boast5
The powers which tuneful Greville's knew,
They speak a heart as sorely crost,
And shrinking from as keen a blow.
I do not ask the fragrant flower,
Tho' its fresh leaves with dew drops shine,10
For well I know ere one short hour
The thorny stem alone were mine.
For one of ever verdant leaves,
The simple, constant garland form,
Such as the hand of friendship weaves,15
To bloom in frosts, and brave the storm.
And spare this weak, this tender heart,
That throbs with yet remember'd woes,
Reluctant, fearful now to part
With peace which scarce at last it knows.20
Oh grant me nought that cannot stay,
Nor mock me with ideal joy,
A joy that soon must pass away
And leave regret and memory's sigh! [47] 
And if thou hast such potent spell25
Of soft oblivious, healing power,
As witching bards delight to tell
In Midsummer's enchanting hour.
Oh! then propitious o'er my sleep
Distill the soft and kindly dew!30
And in Lethean dullness steep
Remembrance yet too sadly true.
The transient bliss forever gone,
The sting of self-reproach, and shame,
The moon too bright, the storm of noon,35
The dreaded blast that withering came;
The smile of pleasure scarce enjoy'd,
That rankling yet in memory stings,
The idle vows, the hopes destroy'd,
The voice which still in Fancy rings;40
All then in silent peace shall lie,
And torture this sad breast no more;
Sweet Spirit haste! the drops apply,
And all my soul to peace restore!
So by the green banks sunny side,45
And thro' the dark woods' tangled way,
And by each pebbled, moss-fring'd tide,
That loves thro' lonely wilds to stray.
Thy fav'rite haunts my feet shall trace,
Thus grateful lose my peaceful hours,50
Admiring mark each slighted grace
That decks thy wild uncultur'd flowers.

Written for the
Hamwood Album
1804 [48] 

Though genius and fancy hereafter may trace
The bright pages, commanded by thee,
Yet early the friend of thy youth has a place
And friendship reserv'd it for me.
And here, let thine eye with complacence awhile,5
In tenderness love to repose,
And partially give to the name that pleas'd smile
Which thy judgment on others bestows.
Ev'n thus, in thy breast, such a place would I claim,
Though others a worthier gain,10
Where, fix'd in thy love, tho' thy judgment may blame,
I securely thro' life might remain.
And though fonder, and closer the ties of delight
That affection may wind round thy heart,
Ev'n there let thy friend still ask as her right15
Some dear yet unoccupied part
Though taught in thy garden with lustre to live
The more brilliant exotic shall glow;
Yet the primrose which Spring shall spontaneously give
Still suffer perennial to blow.20
And round the tall shrub whose fragrance divine
Thou hast purchas'd and shielded with care,
The wild woodbine her arms shall with confidence twine
Though Nature had planted her there.


'Tis thy command, and Edwin shall obey,
My voice shall sound submissive to thy will,
Tho' sad my lute, and mournful be my lay,
Yet 'tis enough, thy slave obeys thee still.
Poor as I am, my love how dare I own?5
No boon to offer but a faithful heart.
Unblest with fortune's gifts, obscure, unknown
With nought my portion but this tuneful art.
Yet pardon sentiments as warm and pure
As tho' by royal lips they were profest,10
My thoughts are noble, tho' my birth obscure,
And truth & honor harbour in this breast.
The Muses too have deigned to touch my tongue,
Early they charmed my simple, ravished ear,
Each rising sun a tender, hopeless song15
To thee I'll raise, if thou wilt gently hear.
No hope presumptuous shall my bosom fire,
My sole ambition only thee to please,
A look, shall pay the efforts of my lyre,
A smile, the highest boon my soul would seize.20
Attendant on thy steps, Oh! might I guard,
Protect, defend thee with an anxious eye,
No ill should reach thee which this arm might ward,
Thy servant would I live, thy champion die.
Art thou for some blest youth reserved by fate?25
The nuptial song I'll raise, the garland weave,
Nor mix my woes, nor envy his high state,
But boast myself thy minstrel, and thy slave.

a Riddle [50] 

Timid in perpetual bonds, a faithful pair,
Our mutual aid we to each other lend,
Bright are our forms, and equal powers we share,
And still our efforts to one purpose tend;
From baneful jealousy is ever free5
The close connexion of our wedded fame,
Tho' oft each other's mystic ring we see
Clasp the white finger of some lovely dame.
Should any dare to interpose between,
Tho' torn asunder in the tyrant hour,10
We quick unite in vengeance sharp, and keen,
The rash intruder wounded owns our power.
Yet should some fatal violence succeed,
And final separation be our doom;
Tho' neither at the cruel stroke should bleed15
Or seek the shelter of the silent tomb.
Yet all our powers destroy'd, existence o'er,
In helpless indolence we useless lie,
Our dazzling arms divide the foe no more,
Or aid the active hand of industry.20
On us, if ancient poets do not feign,
The poor, precarious days of man depend;
Alike the poets work, or tyrants reign
Stopped by our fatal touch at once must end.
Yet, all neglectful of our nobler part,25
Obedient slaves to Chloe's magic power,
Behold us now, with imitative art,
Form the white garland of the paper flower.

Imitation from Colardeau.

"Tu plains mes jours troublés &c" [51] 

No longer weep my days in sorrows past,
Tho' clouds and storms pursue me to the last,
For wisdom's lessons are by sorrow taught
And reason claims the woe-instructed thought.
When uncurbed youth all wild with passion's fire5
Abandoned every rein to mad desire,
Scarce had I felt the raptured, feverish dream,
Ere one rude flash, one strong resistless beam
From Truth's bright torch aroused me from the trance
And all my pleasures vanished at her glance;10
To faithless Love I gave my willing soul,
Woo'd his deceits, and loved his proud control,
Nay when he fled regretted even my pains,
And loathed the freedom which had burst my chains.
Daughters of Memory! to your shrine I flew,15
And offered all my bleeding heart to you!
To you for fame presumptuously I bowed,
And thought your flattering smiles the claim allowed.
But Judgment still repulsed me with a frown
And withered with a look my laurel crown.20
How clouded every view that smiled from far!
How dimmed the lustre of my ruling star!
Ere yet it reached its bright meridian blaze,
Pale thro' malignant vapours gleamed its rays;
No golden threads the fates my days allow,25
Spun all with lingering hand, and sullen brow;
No pleasure strews my path with fairy flowers.
Me Glory calls not from his glittering towers.
Ah! why must life resign its charms so soon,
And shades untimely blacken o'er its noon!30
For bright illusions had its morning drest,
Awhile in flattering dreams my soul was blest,
Too transient error! vanished ere enjoyed,
Why were thy false delights so soon destroyed?
Yet friendship, eloquent the soul to calm,35
Shall o'er my sorrows shed her healing balm,
She loves the thorny couch of care to smooth,
And share the anguish which she best can sooth.
And sure some pleasure this sad heart has left,
While of her soft support not quite bereft,40
This shipwrecked bark its course shall yet maintain,
And piloted by her, the shores of peace shall gain.
When stern Misfortune's lips our hopes reprove,
Bid us despair to please, and cease to love,
How sweet even then the heart to interest,45
And with soft pity touch the generous breast,
And when Love's magic charms for ever end,
Oh! how consoling is the name of friend!

Imitated from L'Abbate Monti.
1804. [52] 

Oblivion of our ills! solace most sweet
Of the sick mind, when cares, and anxious thought
Disturb its calm! Oh! Solitude beloved.
Come from these torments set my bosom free,
And in the veil of night wrap all my woes.5
Thee these sad shades invoke with friendly gloom,
And thee, from every leafy, dark excess,
The viewless winds in melancholy sighs
Implore. And wilt thou hear? art thou even now
Hovering around? and 'mid the murmurs hoarse10
Of these wood-breezes, with inspiring voice
Wilt thou thine own pathetic ardour breathe?
Yes thou art here! parent of sadden'd strains!
Before my eyes I see thy dark brows lower.
I feel my palpitating heart confess15
Thy well-known presence. my rous'd spirits boil;
My brain inflam'd beholds the shapeless throng
Of wild ideas, as they threatning seem
To rush tumultuous - my unprisoned thoughts
Fly headlong with unbridled sweep, like winds20
Whose sudden fury agitate the waves.
Urged by their force, on what deserted shore
Into what frightful cavern am I plunged?
Is this the path to dreaded Acheron? [53] 
I hear the mournful sighing of the blast,25
And the deep murmur of the sullen flood,
While a chill horror creeps upon my soul.
On the rude cliffs, and o'er the mountains brow
The scouring clouds ride imminent, or hang
With menace dark. Oh savage hills! Oh rocks30
Dreary and desolate! Oh silence! still
As night, and death. and thou black, secret cave,
Fit residence for wolves, receive me now!
Thy darkness suits the sadness of my soul,
And Melancholy here respires more free.35
Perhaps this sand is by the footsteps marked
Of some despairing lover, whose sad days
Were here cut off. I too, with wandering steps,
To love a prey, am hither led, and seek
No pitying ear to listen to my woes.40
Relentless monster, cruel, faithless Love!
Hast thou then found who yet will worship thee?
Accursed be the thoughts that I have given
Thine idle dreams! accurs'd the wiles, the charms
Which first seduc'd my soul! accurs'd the shades45
The conscious witnesses of all the hopes,
Too long in vain indulged, and now destroyed,
With our once happy, now divided loves!
What hast thou said Ah fool! Of the lost good,
Which yet torments thy poor deluded heart,50
Why rouse the stinging memory? Behold
Encreasing horrors blacken all around,
Distemper'd fancy's offspring! gathering clouds
Torn by the angry winds, o'er all the face
Of Heaven their black, funereal mantle spread;55
While from their bosoms flash the livid fires
'Mid the loud thunders roar: the tempest wild
Burst with devouring fury o'er the woods,
From steep to steep the swelling torrents rush,
While mingled trees, and cottages, and rocks60
O'erwhelmed in horrid devastation sweep.
Fly images of dread! poor, harassed thoughts
Seek shelter from the gloomy scenes around,
'Till all the fury of the storm is past.
Here, in this mournful, solitary cave,65
A little calm this agitated breast.
From the dark sod within the hollow'd rock
The opposing spectres start, and flitting by
Funereal groans low murmur in my ear.
Stay mournful shade! whose melancholy voice70
Seems to confound its sad complaints with mine.
Unburied form, what art thou? nought replies
Save the lone echo of the hollow vault.
Whence is this sudden chill? why stand these drops
Of horror on my brow? & whence is this75
Tremendous phantom, who before me lifts
High pois'd his threatning lance? support me now
My sinking courage; 'Tis the face of Death!
Hence dreadful Power! spare my congealed blood
My stiffning nerves a horror so intense!80
Art thou here sent my punishment from Heaven,
And must I hail the light of day no more?
Ah see! as yet my days are in their spring
Let not thy fury the untimely fruit
Devouring seize! Pitying I see thee stand,85
And mercy in thy silent looks I read.
Yet, yet I breathe; some respite is allow'd;
Thou art not then so terrible Oh Death!
Fearless I gaze upon thy form, which now
Brings tears, but no more horror to my eyes.90
I fly thee then no longer, but approach
Trembling indeed, yet anxious to behold
In thee the image of myself, here then
This skeleton depriv'd of flesh, that fills
The pride of human dust with shuddering awe,95
These dry and nerveless bones, these frightful jaws,
Those black and hollow caverns of the eyes,
Ah strike upon my soul with mournful light
And tear the curtain from my languid sense.
I too am sprung from dust corruptible;100
And thee, inexorable Death! ere long
Must fix thy talons on these destin'd limbs,
And burst for me the wide-opposed doors;
Eternal doom! Trembling on each I gaze,
To which of these, ah which! am I decreed105
My timid hopes? When shall the hand of fate
Seize on the remnant of my days, and strike?
Alas, already o'er my shrinking head
The arm is raised, the fatal blow prepared.
While with tremendous voice in dread array,110
I hear the uttered record of my crimes.
Adieu, delicious images of Life!
Beloved deceits adieu! Lo! Death appears
Even at my side. Ah! yet suspend the stroke
A little while, 'till from these streaming eyes115
The melting tears of penitence may flow.
Since sweet the bed of Death bedewed with tears.

To --------
Imitated from Monti
1804. [54] 

'Tis then ordained by nature, and by fate
That from the troubled spring of all our joys
Evil and pain must flow! Oh Thou! My wise,
My loved support! amid my adverse fate
Best Counsellor! whose eye benevolent5
From others pain turns not, who rare of speech,
And liberal of deed my woes relieved.
Oh friend most dear! of anguish, and of joy
What wonderous compound is the human heart!
This portion of existence, source unknown,10
And fugitive of life, that feels and sees,
With what delight, what ardour once it sprung
Thro' nature's wide champaign, and all around [55] 
Embellish'd fair; now changed, with cruel power
It rules but for my torment, while it threats 15
To burst its fragile tenement, and this
Poor earthly mansion inwardly consumes;
And mines with lingering, but assured decay.
Ah! happy days, in solitude and peace
Pass'd cloudless! say what power hath chased ye hence?20
Broken the golden lamp, whose transient ray
Marked with a momentary flash of light
The drear obscure: now doubled darkness spreads,
While the sad wanderer trembles, and despairs.
Oh! for what crime bright beam are thou extinct;25
And why must memory turn to bitter gall
All that could once drop honey on my heart?
Oft I recal those hours; then, when the Sun
First o'er the eastern brow appear'd to rouse
The world from sleep, and spread those hues,30
More lively, and more fresh o'er every scene,
Which eve had seemed to steal; jocund I rose,
And from my humble couch sprung with light heart
To hail his beams, and gaze with fixed eye
On the tall hill which yet concealed his orb,35
Which o'er its summit shot a lucid crown,
'Till gradually, empurpling all its back
And shaggy sides, dilated light approached
The level plain, where I expectant stood.
Then from her humid bosom earth exhaled40
On the light pinions of the mattin breeze
A grateful cloud of odours: while elate,
And smiling on his gifts, the star of day
Wheel'd thro' the sapphire vault his flaming car,
Bathing his golden tresses in the dew45
Of fragrant vapours curling in ascent;
Sublime, amid the applauding cheerful song
Of all created things. Then tranquilly
On the fresh margin of the stream reclined,
Where long, and thick the herbs around me rise,50
And shade me from the view, supinely laid,
Now gazing on the wood which cloathes the bank
On 'tother side; now on the smoking hills,
The scattered flocks that browse upon the heath,
And the sharp rocks which whiten 'mid the trees,55
Or hanging o'er the stream with placid eye,
I mark the clouds that tremble in the pure
And floating glass, then on the flowery leaf
That canopies my bed contemplative,
And motionless observe the little world60
That turns amid the thickly-peopled leaves,
The mantling swarm of insects; and admire
Their varied forms and manners: some in groups
Pass in long file, and pomp of martial shew.
Some solitary seem to muse like me;65
Others in conference close, and deep debate;
Subjects of high import discussed. While one,
Careless of all but pleasure, nectar quaffs,
And hangs enamoured o'er the dewy flower.
Behold a rival comes! contest ensues,70
The tilting foes emanathe their little limbs, [56] 
'Till headlong in confusion dire they fall
Together from the fatal combat hurled.
Nor is there wanting in such little breasts
Prudence, or valour, of impassioned love,75
Foresight, or kindred amity; still prompt
Assistance to each other's wants to lend;* [57] 
Example rare to man, who oft will war
On his oppressed brother; such were then
The eloquent instructors of my soul,80
Whose pure philosophy inspired my breast,
While on my placid brow I seemed to feel
The soft sweet breath of an all present God;
That breath which penetrates the ample world
And fans the elemental fire of life;85
Inspiring matter with strange emotion; prompt
To animate the dull, adhesive forms
Inert within the womb of earth, arming
The powers of Nature 'gainst themselves, conflict
From which perpetual harmony results!90
Thus while contemplating this lovely frame
From all a torrent stream of rapture poured
Upon my heart; as when some silvery lake
Receives the bounding stone impetuous lanced,
Which its pure surface brightening agitates.95
Or as when first, with sudden extacy,
We view the unexpected form beloved,
Enchanting tumult every sense o'erpowers,
'Till the dear image settling in the heart
Reposing shines for ever there serene.100
How am I changed! and all around how changed
With my changed hours! excess of joy has reigned
O'er all my soul, excess of pain must now
Usurp the seat; and how with daring hand
Shall I withdraw the veil that hides my woes!105
A glance of softness, a bewitching smile,
A voice sweeter than each, a gentle sigh!
Can these have power to raise within my breast
A tumult of affections new and strange?
Are these the flowers, the hills, the laughing vales,110
That once appeared so lovely in my eyes?
What cloud hath dimmed my sight? Or what hath tinged
All with a hue so dark? Alas, the form,
Which as a vapour rises from within,
Spreads o'er the face of nature, and obscures 115
Her charms for me. Ah wretch! for me alone
The pleasant earth a wilderness appears;
No cheerful song of birds, but tempests howl,
And torrents roar. Where'er I tread, behold
A desert blackens! and before me shapes120
Fearful, discoloured, mute and threatening stand.
All is extinct. Eternal grief alone
Survives, nor other comfort have I left
Than thus to raise my weeping eyes to Heaven.
Oh fatally adored! Would I had ne'er 125
Gazed on thy charms with rapture! without thee
This cruel change had never been, my hours
In tranquil course had seen the planets roll,
Or sunk in quiet to my native dust.
But to have hung enamoured on those eyes, [58]  130
Yet, yet to feel the intoxicating power
Which stole into my heart at every sound
Of that soft voice that vibrates in my ear.
Thus to have loved, and loved to ecstasy,
And be beloved again! Oh, rapturous bliss135
Destroyed and lost! Yes all in Heaven conspired
With all on earth against my cherished hopes,
And never more must I indulge the dreams
Which loved to call thee by a name, even yet
More fond, more sacred, more endeared than lover!140
Must I resign the image of delight?
When in the gentle pressure of thine arms,
Methinks I hang upon that neck adored,
Gaze on thy angel smile, or taste thy kiss?
Forced to abandon thee, to give thee up!145
Forget thee! hopeless, and for ever lost!
Hence, hence, ye terrible ideas hence!
Ah fly! nor thus affright my soul, and turn
My tenderness to fury; from my breast,
All quiet banished, wildly forth I rush150
And seek the lonely woods, and fill the caves
With lamentations vain. Then it seems sweet
To climb the rock, and 'mid the tangled thorns
With rude-opposing bosom burst my way,
And mark the rugged, new-made path with blood;155
While the devouring rage that burns within
Throbs high in feverish anguish on my brow,
And labouring heaves my suffocating heart.
Firmer my foot, as rougher grows the path,
'Till all confused, unknowing where I stray,160
Wandering from steep to steep, even on the brink
I stand of some wild precipice; the sight
With horror suddenly arrests my feet,
'Till by degree subsiding terror yields
To desperate desire. Prone on the verge165
Of the tremendous gulph I hang, and gaze
On the loud roaring torrent far below;
Thinking that there forever swallowed up
My sorrows might have end. Ah coward wretch!
Canst thou not once with firmness raise from earth170
The shrinking foot? Fearest thou to mingle yet
With thine own dust? or is it still decreed
That I must yet behold the star of day?
Oh! could I now resign the boasted claim,
The dignity of man, scattered abroad175
Confused and blended with the passing whirlwind,
Or mount aloft upon the rapid wings
Of the cloud-residing tempest! rouse the storms
Which slumber o'er the billows of the deep.
When shall I burst this mortal prison-house?180
If e'er this spirit shall indeed be free
Ah why prolong this feeble lamp of life?
One only object could delight on earth
And Heaven forbad that wish; and leaves me now
Nought but the hatred of myself and life.185
Oh! thou more blest, whose mild & placid mind,
Nurtured in wisdom's school, can yet for me,
And for the wretched shed the generous tear,
When on a summer's eve as thou art wont
Thou shalt ascend yon hill, and call to mind190
Thy friend, whose name the faithful stone preserves. [59] 
Then wilt thou cast thy tranquil eye below,
And pause to mark the parting sun's last beams
Dwell pitying o'er his tomb? and wilt thou sigh,
As thou shalt view the light breeze wave the grass195
And tremble 'mid the leaves that shade the grave.

The Death of Lausus

Virgil. Aeneid lib x.  [60] 
Long had the war with equal fury burn'd,
Success alternate to each party turn'd,
To no fix'd side was favo'ring Fortune join'd
But now to this, and now to that inclin'd.
From the imperial seats of mighty Jove5
The pitying Gods behold how mortals strove,
Saw each brave chief in useless blood engage
And the pale Furies thro' the battle rage.
Compassion touch'd their breast to see how vain
They labour'd all their life in idle pain.10
But chief Mezentius shook aloft his spear,
March'd thro' th'ensanguin'd field devoid of fear.
As when Orion bids the waves obey
And cuts thro' opening lakes his mighty way,
Or with a pine from some huge mountain ruin15
Walks on the earth, and hides his brow in heav'n.
So seem'd Mezentius, whom Aeneas spies,
And ardent for the fight to meet him flies;
He unappall'd beheld his foe advance,
Resolv'd to await this day's important chance;20
And now, the distance measuring with his eye,
He bids his missle dart securely fly;
"Let but my arm," he cried "assist my will"
"My well pois'd weapon own its master's skill"
"To thee my Lausus I devote this prey"25
"The trophy snatch'd from yon proud foe today."
He said, and hurl'd the spear with utmost force,
The shield oppos'd its well directed course,
Turn'd from its aim, constrain'd its flight to bend,
It struck, Alcides, thy illustrious friend!30
The noble Antor, who from Argive lands
Had sought Evander's roof, & join'd his bands,
His beauteous form now falls on foreign ground,
Doom'd thus to death by an unbidden round,
He looks towards Heav'n, his breath reluctant yields,35
And dying thinks, sweet Argos, on thy fields!
The Trojan hero then with better chance
Drove thro' the triple brass his sounding lance.
Deep was the wound, and thro' the folded hide
The issuing blood gush'd purple from his side,40
The exulting foe to closer combat flew,
And the bright weapon from the scabbard drew;
Then Lausus saw the danger of his Sire,
Then glow'd his bosom with a sacred fire,
And other fears his filial terrors chace45
And gushing tears o'erspread his manly face.
Oh noble youth! at least thy hopeless fate
The mindful Muse shall faithfully relate.
Posterity shall hear the wondrous tale,
And honour thee 'till truth herself shall fail!50
Trembling he view'd his father's shield appear
Nail'd to the body by the hostile spear,
Saw the rais'd sword, the meditated blow
And boldly rush'd before the threat'ning foe,
His shield opposing met the harmless stroke55
And all the vigour of its fury broke;
Protected by the Son the Sire withdraws,
While shouts proclaim the armies' loud applause:
At once they rush, the glitt'ring javelins fly
And the quick lance obscures the darkning sky;60
Yet stood Aeneas firm behind his shield
And inly rag'd, and scorn'd to quit the field;
As when the lowering heav'ns tempestuous frown
And bursting clouds with storms rush headlong down,
Loud roaring winds th'affrighted woods assail65
And fiercely drive the ratt'ling showers of hail,
Quick to his shelt'ring shed the labourer flies
And seeks for refuge from the inclement skies.
In some close cave the traveller secure
Stays while the beating rains & storms endure;70
Hastes from the blasted heath & open plains
And safe within the hollow'd rock remains.
'Till all the violence is spent at last,
The floods exhausted, and appeas'd the blast.
'Till the bright Sun looks forth with smiling ray,75
Then once more labours in the sight of day.
So stood Aeneas, till the rage of war
Already ceas'd to thunder from afar;
Loudly he threatens thus the pious son,
"Incautious youth! what fury drives thee on?"80
"Cease madly thus unequal war to wage"
"Nor dare with such superior force engage."
The gallant youth did not avoid his sight
But rous'd his courage, & provok'd the fight,
The cruel fates forbad the glorious strife85
Drew the last thread of his unhappy life,
Ah! what defence can that light armour yield?
Or what alas! awaits thy polish'd shield?
Thro' the soft tunic which in many a fold
His mother fondly wrought with docile gold,90
The Trojan sword too surely finds its way
And in his tender side deep buried lay;
O'er his soft bosom flows the vital blood,
Life's source exhausted in the purple flood,
The spirit quits the sad forsaken day95
Melts into air and vanishes away.
But when the beauteous youth extended lies,
His face all pallid, and extinct his eyes,
With pity touch'd the Trojan hero mourn'd,
The image of his own lov'd Sire return'd,100
His generous sighs the soft compassion prove
For that pure victim of a filial love,
Deeply he groan'd, with late relenting grief
Stretch'd his right hand, & offer'd vain relief;
"Ah what rewards regretted, honour'd shade"105
"To thee by just Aeneas shall be paid?"
"If ought below departed souls can please,"
"Or funeral rites the sorrowing dead appease,"
"These thou shalt have, and to thy Sire restor'd"
"Thy sacred ashes, and thy well-us'd sword,"110
"Still shall thy arms by mourning friends be kept,"
"For ever honour'd, and for ever wept."
"And this atone for thine untimely fate"
"The blow was noble, & the foe was great!"
Mean while Mezentius lay with anxious mind115
Near Tiber's stream against a tree reclin'd;
Spent and exhausted there his limbs he laid,
And wash'd his wounds - while, from the friendly shade,
His brazen helmet hangs suspended high,
And all his glitt'ring arms around him lie,120
Panting and sick, oppress'd with grief & pain,
Amid the youth he lay a chosen train,
And anxious oft for Lausus he enquir'd,
And oft impatient his return requir'd,
By many a message with paternal care125
Forbad him longer in the fight to dare;
Forbad in vain -- already from the field
They bear the hero breathless on his shield,
The following mourners raise the funeral cries,
And fill with loud laments the distant skies;130
The wretched father hears from far the groans,
The cause his heart too true presaging owns,
Father no more! in fix'd despair he stands,
Then lifts towards Heav'n his miserable hands,
Clung to his corpse, embrac'd the fatal wound,135
Tore his white hair, and sunk upon the ground.
"Hast thou thus purchas'd for thy wretched Sire"
"Detested life? must thou for this expire?"
"Have I so covetous of living seem'd?"
"Forlorn old age so greedily esteem'd?"140
"That thus for life, my pride, my joy, my hope?"
"My child, my Lausus I must yield thee up?"
"Shall I thus live to misery reserv'd?"
"Live by thy death, & by thy wounds preserv'd?"
"An exile long, long banish'd from my throne,"145
"Ah now at length I feel myself undone!"
"Now deep indeed the cruel wound is given,"
"Ev'n to my heart the fatal stroke is driven!"
"Alas my Son! must thy sad father's shame"
"Stain the pure glory of thy spotless name?"150
"Torn from thy native sceptre's regal state,"
"Too pious follower of thy father's fate!"
"To me, to me, the punishments are due,"
"Justly let death my aged steps pursue,"
"The guilt was mine, let me endure the pain:"155
"My subjects hatred! and my country's bane!"
"And yet I live -- yet loathing view the light!"
"But long I bear not, Man, thy hated sight!"
He spoke, while springing furious from the ground,
Tho' weak, and suffering from so late a wound,160
Eager for vengeance he demands his horse,
With soul undaunted, tho' diminish'd force,
His favorite steed, accustom'd to his sway,
His lov'd companion many a well-fought day,
On him well us'd victorious arms to wield,165
Oft borne triumphant from the conquer'd field;
Sooth'd by his touch, with gentle hand caress'd,
He now with mournful accents thus address'd,
"Oh Rhoebus! we have liv'd & suffer'd long,"
"If ere this may be said by mortal tongue,"170
"This day decides with thine, thy master's fate."
"This day thou must return with trophies great,"
"Force the proud Trojan to resign his breath,"
"And pay just vengeance for my Lausus' death,"
"Or if the cruel fates no way afford"175
"To the last aim of my avenging sword,"
"Then let us die, Oh bravest of thy kind!"
"And fall together to one doom resign'd."
"For, in thy noble spirit well secure,"
"I know another Lord thou never wilt endure."180
Thus while he spoke, he seiz'd with ardent speed
His weighty arms, and mounts the willing steed,
Aloft in air his splendid brow he rais'd,
The plumage nodded, and the helmet blaz'd.
Stung by the furies, anguish, love, & shame185
Despair and rage, ran kindling thro' his frame,
While conscious courage, unsubdued by pain,
Thrill'd thro' his nerves, and madden'd in his brain;
He urg'd th'impatient courser to the war,
And thrice he call'd Aeneas from afar,190
Thro' the thick ranks with rushing force he flies,
Rage in his voice, & frenzy in his eyes;
With joy the glorious call Aeneas hears,
Owns the great summons, nor the danger fears.
"Assist, Oh father of the Gods!" he cried,195
"And thou, Apollo, o'er this arm preside!"
Thus far Mezentius heard with angry glance,
And thus defied the terrors of his lance.
"Wretch! dost thou think by threats or cruel arms,"
"Thou now canst shake my soul with weak alarms,"200
"Now, my Son lies murder'd in the fight!"
"That only way thou couldst Mezentius fright,"
"I fear not Death, nor dread a mortal stroke"
"No friendly God with trembling hope invoke,"
"Death, death, I seek, to death resolv'd I go,"205
"But send thee first this gift, Detested foe!"
He said, & now the lowering javelin flings,
Quick thro' the parted air it useless sings,
The following darts in dark succession rain,
Thrice round the chief he rides the circled plain,210
And thrice, his rapid courser as he wheel'd,
The Trojan hero turn'd the opposing shield.
Th'immortal shield's impenetrable power
Sustains with horrent orb the iron shower,
'Till wearied thus by frequent darts from far,215
Harass'd on foot by this unequal war,
Doubting Aeneas stood, resolv'd at length [61] 
Mid the high temples of the fiery horse,
He hurl'd th'unerring spear with steady force;
Erect the courser starts, in anguish reels,220
Expiring beats the air with quivring heels,
Cast headlong down his vanquish'd Lord he prest,
And heaps with pondrous load his struggling breast,
Tumultuous shouts from either army sent
The echoing vault of Heav'n with clamour rent,225
Aeneas now with conquering triumph flew
And as aloft the flashing sword he drew
"Where now the fury of thy vaunts," he cried,
"Where now Mezentius thy disdainful pride?"
The fallen chief recovering from the stroke230
Once more beheld the light, and gasping spoke.
"Cease bitter foe, thine insults vain forbear,"
"In death is no disgrace, and death I did not fear!"
"From thy detested hand no life is sought,"
"With no such shameful league my Lausus fought"235
"Only one boon, a suppliant foe I crave,"
"Protect my body with a sheltering grave,"
"I know the cruel hate my subjects bear,"
"Heap then the sacred earth with generous care,"
"Hide from unhallow'd hands my quiet breast,"240
"And let my ashes with my Lausus rest!"
He spoke; the sword no weak resistance found
And the free soul rush'd willing from the wound.

Written in Sickness
Dec.r 1804. [62] 

O thou whom folly's votaries slight!
Domestic love! assuasive power!
Life's ruby gem, which sheds its light
Thro' age, and sorrow's darkest hour.
Sweeter than pleasure's syren lay,5
Brighter than passion's fever'd dream!
Still round my pillow soothing stay,
Still spread thy kindly lambent beam.
Alas! for him whose youth has bow'd
Beneath th'oppressive hand of pain;10
Whose claim to pity unallow'd
Bids him th'unheeded groan restrain.
Alas! for him who droops like me,
Who mourns life's faded vigour flown,
But finds no soothing sympathy,15
No tender cares his loss atone.
For him no wakeful eye of love,
Resists the slumbers health would shed,
With kind assistance prompt to move,
And gently prop the aching head.20
With delicate attention paid
In hope to minister relief,
He sees no sacrifices made;
He sees no mother's anxious grief!
But I, poor sufferer, doom'd in vain25
To woo the health which Heav'n denied,
Tho' nights of horror, days of pain
The baffled opiates force deride.
Yet well I know, and grateful feel,
How much can lenient kindness do,30
From anguish half its darts to steal,
And faded hopes sick smile renew.
That love which brighten'd gayer hours,
When light youth danc'd to pleasure's strain,
Exerts ev'n yet unwearied powers,35
The sweet support of nights of pain.
Oh how consoling is the eye
Of the dear friend that shares our woes!
Oh what relief those cares supply,
Which watchful, active love bestows!40
And these are mine! shall I then dare
To murmur at so mild a lot?
Nor dwell on comforts still my share
With tenderly contented thought?
Though destin'd to the couch of pain,45
Though torn from pleasures once too dear,
Around that couch, shall still remain
The love that every pain can cheer.
And o'er that couch, in fondness bent
My languid glance shall grateful meet,50
The eye of love benevolent,
The tender smile, the tear most sweet.
And still for me affection's hand
Shall o'er that couch her roses shed,
And woo from ease her poppied band55
To twine around this throbbing head.
Oh pitying Heav'n! these comforts spare,
Tho' age untimely chill gay hope,
May love still crown the sufferer's prayer,
And gently smooth life's downward slope.60


Composed on the White Sands near Arklow [63] 

Can I behold those caverns, hear those waves,
Sounds well remembered! without pensive thought
Recurring to those hours, when pleas'd I sought
Thy rocks Oh Dawlish, and thy hollow caves!
Or wander'd on the sands by peaceful Exe,5
List'ning to the gay voice of my poor friend,
Now heard no more! Many a sigh I send
Of sad regret; and oft, when cares shall vex,
Or sorrow press my agitated breast,
Thee, Memory, I shall woo, thy soothing powers10
Shall lead me back to those calm, social hours,
Each well-known scene by present Fancy drest
In sober melancholy hues shall rise
And charm as now my captivated eyes.

1799 [64] 

Come placid Sleep! thy balmy influence pour
O'er my sad brow, but come not with thy train
Of fearful visions, melancholy pain,
Or drear forebodings for some future hour.
No, come in all thy charms by fancy drest,5
Give me my absent friends, still let me hear
The cherish'd voice; and by deceits so dear
Atone for all my cares, and give me rest!
Bring back each fading image to my view,
Of pleasures past, of hours too quickly gone,10
Of joys which with my early youth hath flown
Steep all my sorrows in oblivious dew,
So shall I more thy dear illusions prize
Than all that garish day can give my eyes.

Written at
Augt 1799 [65] 

As musing pensive in my silent home
I hear far off the sullen ocean's roar,
Where the rude wave just sweeps the level shore,
Or bursts upon the rocks with whitening foam;
I think upon the scenes my life has known,5
On days of sorrow, and some hours of joy,
Both which alike time could so soon destroy!
And now they seem a busy dream alone,
While on the earth exists no single trace
Of all that shook my agitated soul;10
As on the beach new waves for ever roll,
And fill their past forgotten brother's place;
But I, like the worn sand expos'd remain
To each new storm which frets the angry main.

IV [66] 

When glowing Phoebus quits the weeping earth
What splendid visions rise upon the sight!
Fancy with transient charms and colours bright
To changing forms in Heav'n's gay scene gives birth:
But soon the melting beauties disappear,5
And fade like those, which in life's early bloom
Hope bade me prize; and the approaching gloom,
These tints of sadness, and these shades of fear,
Resemble most that melancholy hour
Which, with a silent, and resistless power,10
Shrouded my joys bright beam in dreary night.
'Till Memory marks each scene which shone so gay:
As the dark plains, beneath the Moon's soft light
Again reveal'd, reflect a mellowing ray.

Written in AUTUMN
1795 [67] 

Oh Autumn! how I love thy pensive air,
Thy yellow garb, thy visage sad and dun;
When from the misty east the laboring Sun
Bursts thro' thy fogs, that gathering round him, dare
Obscure his beams, which tho' enfeebled, dart 5
On the cold, dewy plains a lustre bright,
But chief, the sounds of thy reft woods delight;
Their deep, low murmurs to my soul impart
A solemn stillness, while they seem to speak
Of spring, of summer now for ever past,10
Of drear, approaching winter, and the blast
Which shall ere long their soothing quiet break,
Here when for faded joys my heaving breast
Throbs with vain pangs, here will I love to rest.

VI [68] 

Poor, fond deluded heart! wilt thou again
Listen enchanted to the syren song
Of treach'rous pleasure? Ah deceiv'd too long
Cease now at length to throb with wishes vain!
Ah cease her paths bewildering to explore! 5
Betray'd so oft, yet recollect the woe
Which waits on disappointment; taught to know
By sad experience, wilt thou not give o'er
To rest deluded on the fickle wing
Which Fancy lends thee in her airy flight,10
But to allure thee to some giddy height,
And leave thee there a poor forsaken thing.
Hope warbles once again, truth pleads in vain,
And my charm'd soul sinks vanquish'd by her strain.

VII [69] 

For me would Fancy now her chaplet twine
Of Hope's bright blossoms, and Joy's fairy flowers,
As she was wont to do in gayer hours;
Ill would it suit this brow, where many a line
Declares the spring time of my life gone by,5
And summer far advanc'd; what now remain
Of waning years, should own staid wisdom's reign.
Shall my distemper'd heart still idly sigh
For those gay phantoms, chas'd by sober truth?
Those forms tumultuous which sick visions bring,10
That lightly flitting on the transient wing
Disturb'd the fever'd slumbers of my youth?
Ah no! my suffering soul at length restor'd,
Shall taste the calm repose, so oft in vain implor'd.

VIII [70] 

As one who late hath lost a friend ador'd
Clings with sick pleasure to the faintest trace
Resemblance offers in another's face,
Or sadly gazing on that form deplor'd,
Would clasp the silent canvas to his breast;5
So muse I on the good I have enjoy'd,
The wretched victim of my hopes destroy'd;
On images of peace I fondly rest,
Or on the page, where weeping fancy mourns,
I love to dwell upon each tender line,10
And think the bliss once tasted still is mine,
While cheated memory to the past returns,
And, from the present, leads my shiv'ring heart
Back to those scenes from which it wept to part.

Written in the Church yard at

This seems a spot to pensive sorrow dear,
Gloomy the shade which yields this sombre yew
Sacred the seat of Death! sooth'd while I view
Thy hills Oh Malvern! proudly rising near,
I bless the peaceful mound, the mouldering cross,5
And every stone, whose rudely-sculptur'd form
Hath brav'd the rage of many a winter's storm.
Pleas'd with the melancholy scene, each loss
Once more I weep: and wish this grave were thine
Poor, lost, lamented friend! that o'er this silent clay10
For once this last sad tribute I might pay,
And, with my tears, to the cold tomb resign
Each hope of bliss, each vanity of life,
And all the passions' agonizing strife.

To TIME [72] 

Yes gentle Time, thy gradual, healing hand
Hath stolen from Sorrow's grasp th'envenomed dart;
Submitting to thy skill, my passive heart
Feels that no grief can thy soft power withstand;
And tho' my aching breast still heaves the sigh, 5
Tho' oft the tear swells silent in mine eye;
Yet the keen pang, the agony is gone;
Sorrow and I shall part; and these faint throes
Are but the remnant of severer woes;
As when the furious tempest is o'erblown,10
And when the sky has wept its violence,
The opening heav'ns will oft let fall a shower,
The poor o'ercharged boughs still drops dispense,
And still the loaded streams in torrents pour.

XI [73] 

Ye dear associates of my gayer hours
Ah whither are you gone? on what light wing
Is Fancy fled? mute is the dulcet string
Of long-lost Hope? no more her magic powers
Scatter o'er my lorn path fallacious flowers,5
As she was wont with glowing hand to fling,
Loading with fragrance the soft gales of Spring,
While fondly pointing to fresh blooming bowers,
Now faded, with each dazzling view of bright
Delusive pleasure; never more return10
Ye vain ideal visions of delight!
For in your absence I have learned to mourn;
To bear the torch of Truth with steady sight,
And weave the cypress for my future urn.

Imitated from PETRARCA [74] 

Can I look back, and view with tranquil eye
The course of my sad life? what vain desires
Have kindled in my heart consuming fires!
That heart accustom'd each extreme to try
Of hope, and chilling fear; What torturing dreams5
Have vex'd my soul with phantoms of despair,
Which wearied now regrets its wasted care!
Repentant shame its former anguish deems
Unworthy of that sacred spark of life
From heav'n received; exhausted in the strife10
To thee Oh God! my sinking soul would turn!
To thee devote the remnant of my years;
Oh Thou! who see'st my sorrows, calm my fears,
Nor let thy wrath against thy creature burn!

Imitated from Petrarca [75] 

As nearer I approach that fatal day,
Which makes all mortal cares appear so light,
Time seems on swifter wing to speed his flight,
And hope's fallacious visions fade away;
While to my fond desires at length I say5
Behold! how quickly melted from your sight
The promis'd objects you esteem'd so bright,
When Love was all your song, and life look'd gay!
Now let us rest in peace! those hours are past,
And with them, all the agitating train10
By which hope led the wandering, cheated soul;
Wearied she seeks repose, and owns at last
How sighs, and tears, and youth, were spent in vain,
While languishing she mourn'd in folly's sad control.

Addressed to the LADIES of Langollen Vale [76] 

Is a there a heart, which scenes of rural peace,
And rural beauty never yet have charm'd?
Whose breast the fire of genius never warm'd?
Let him approach; let mental blindness cease,
Oh let him see this bower of polish'd taste;5
Where graceful Nature, aided, not opprest,
With sportive hand each varied scene hath drest.
In her own vivid colours, bright, but chaste.
And you! best skill'd in all the Muse's art,
Pardon these notes, as free and unconstrain'd10
As your own lyre, [77]  which claims no guiding hand.
Uncheck'd effusions of a feeling heart!
Oh, could they but with equal sweetness flow,
What strains of rapture would they here bestow!

Addressed to the Rev.d W: L: Bowles. [78] 

Sing on, sweet bard! awake thy silver lute
To thy own soft and plaintive melody;
Me hast thou sooth'd full often when the sigh
Of anguish press'd upon my heart, and mute
The heav'n-sent woes, which well thy numbers suit;5
Bidding, with voice of tenderest sympathy,
Submission left to Heav'n her placid eye;
Still open to the view of patient peace her fruit
Where all shall yet be well; Oh sing again!
And as I listen to thy mournful note,10
Ev'n then I think while cheated of my pain,
And all my throbbing sorrows lull'd to rest,
Thus the sad nightingale soft pours her throat
While the thorn presses on her wounded breast.
Augt 15.th 1804.

Written at Rossana
Novr 18. 1799 [79] 

Oh my rash hand, what hast thou idly done?
Torn from its humble bank the last poor flower
That patient linger'd to this wintry hour:
Expanding cheerly to the languid Sun
It flourish'd yet, and yet it might have blown, 5
Had not thy sudden desolating power
Destroy'd what many a storm, and angry shower
Had pitying spar'd. The pride of Summer gone
Cherish what yet in faded life can bloom,
And, if Domestic Love still sweetly smiles,10
If shelter'd by thy Cot he yet beguiles
Thy Winter's prospect of its dreary gloom,
Oh from the Spoiler's touch thy treasure screen
To bask beneath Contentment's beam serene!

Written at Rossana
August 1797 [80] 

Dear Chesnut Bower, I hail thy secret shade,
Image of tranquil life! escap'd yon throng
Who weave the dance, and swell the choral song
And all the summer's day have wanton play'd,
I bless thy kindly gloom in silence laid:5
What, tho' no prospects gay to thee belong,
Yet here I heed nor showers, nor sunbeams strong,
Which they, whose perfum'd tresses roses braid,
Dispersing fear. Their sunny bank more bright,
And on their circled green more sweets abound,10
Yet the rude blasts, which rend their vestments light,
O'er these dark boughs with harmless music sound,
And tho' no lively pleasures here are found,
Yet shall no sudden storms my calm retreat affright.

Written at the Eagle's Nest
July 26. 1800. [81] 

Here let us rest, while with meridian blaze
The sun rides glorious 'mid the cloudless sky,
While o'er the Lake no cooling Zephyrs fly,
But on the liquid glass we dazzled gaze,
And fainting ask for shade: Lo! where his nest5
The bird of Jove has fix'd. the lofty brow,
With arbutus and fragrant wild shrubs drest,
Impendent frowns, nor will approach allow:
Here the soft turf invites: here magic sounds
Celestially respondent shall enchant,10
While melody from yon steep wood rebounds
In thrilling cadence sweet: sure life can grant
No brighter hours than this, and memory oft
Shall paint this happiest scene with pencil soft.

Written at Killarney
July 29. 1800. [82] 

How soft the pause! the notes melodious cease
Which from each feeling could an echo call;
Rest on your oars; that not a sound may fall
To interrupt the stillness of our peace:
The fanning West-wind breathes upon our cheeks5
Yet glowing with the sun's departed beams.
Thro' the blue Heav'ns the cloudless moon pours streams
Of pure resplendent light. in silver streaks
Reflected on the still unruffled lake.
The Alpine hills in solemn silence frown,10
While the dark woods nights deepest shades embrown.
And now once more that soothing strain awake!
Oh! ever to my heart, with magic power,
Shall those sweet sounds recall this rapturous hour.

On leaving Killarney
August 5. 1800 [83] 

Farewell sweet scenes! pensive once more I turn
Those pointed hills, and wood-fringed Lakes to view
With fond regret: while in this last adieu
A silent tear those brilliant hours shall mourn
For ever past. So from the pleasant shore,5
Borne with the struggling bark against the wind,
The trembling pennant flutt'ring looks behind
With vain reluctance. 'Mid those woods no more
For me the voice of pleasure shall resound,
Nor soft flutes warbling o'er the placid Lake10
Aerial music shall for me awake,
And wrap my charmed soul in peace profound.
Tho' lost to me, here still may Taste delight
To dwell, nor the rude axe the trembling Dryads fright.

To Cowper and his Mary
Augt 17.th 1803. [84] 

Mild Spirits ye are gone, together gone,
Where ye shall feel the heavy weight no more
That presses on humanity. tis o'er,
The sympathising pang, the patient groan,
The cold, dark cloud is past! bright day has shone,5
And Mary never shall again deplore,
Or vainly bid mysterious Heav'n restore
The wounded heart, the "noble mind o'erthrown."
And thou, sweet Boy! [85]  whose pure and spotless page,
So early clos'd, thy God approving ey'd!10
The infant critic, and the blooming guide
Of suff'ring genius, and disabled age;
Thou! with a cherub smile rejoic'd to hail
Thy friends at length releas'd from life's deep shadowy vale.

Written for ANGELA
1802. [86] 

How sweetly plaintive 'mid yon loftiest trees
The Woodquest pours his soft, sad notes of love;
With thrilling tenderness my soul they move,
Speaking of scenes most fair, and bowers of ease;
For there, ev'n there, those mellow tones could please,5
And lure us longer 'mid the woods to rove;
While the fond eye of love might yet reprove
The unbidden tear; and Hope's dear witcheries
Awhile deceive this too foreboding heart,
Which even then foresaw this hour would come,10
When, forc'd with Love itself at last to part,
The fairy flowers of Joy no more should bloom,
And mournful should those summer sounds appear,
Recalling with regret, hours of delight too dear!

Written for Angela
1802. [87] 

'Tis past--the cruel anguish of suspence
Shall vex my soul no more! I know 'tis lost!
For ever lost to me! and all that most
On earth I valued, bought with dear expense
Of peaceful days, and nights of innocence,5
Lies wither'd in my grasp - Oh idle cost
Of squander'd hours! Oh vows of anguish tost
To the wild winds, which mock'd the eloquence
Of grief indignant, yet constrain'd to speak;
Now all is past; the desolating storm10
No longer can the bowers of bliss deform;
Its furious malice has no more to seek;
Each high aspiring hope lies all laid low
Sweep on ye powerless winds o'er your fall'n trophies blow.

XXIV [88] 

Could the sad trembling tenant of this breast
Declare to what delicious scenes it flies,
When night, and silence seal these weary eyes,
Yielding awhile my anxious sorrows rest;
If, as I think, it then with freedom blest,5
May seek the friend for whom it hourly sighs
Thro' tedious days, that joy might well suffice,
To cheer the following morn, and when opprest
By present cares, the hopes of coming night
And sleep to free it from earth's heavy chain,10
Should sooth my soul with promise of delight;
The soft reflection might relieve the pain
Of absence, mock the transitory reign
Of fate, and scorn the bounds of space in rapid flight.

XXV [89] 

Thy Summer's day was long, but could'st thou think
Deluded fool, it would for ever last?
Thy sun indeed mid shrouding clouds, is fast
Declining, and must soon for ever sink.
But from the long foreboded gloom to shrink, 5
Thus in the hopeless depths of languor cast,
Declares thy brighter hours were idly past
In thoughtless folly. Did'st thou never think
That all thy fond heart prized must pass away?
And all those sparkling joys, ev'n when most bright,10
Were but as heavy drops, which trembling play
On the breeze-shaken leaf? could'st thou delight
With calm security thro all the day
Nor seek a shelt'ring bower for sure approaching night?

XXVI. [90] 

Yes we must part -- the cruel struggle o'er
I can resign thee now, the die is cast,
The day-dream of my fancied bliss is past,
And now we part to meet, perhaps, no more.
The orient morn shall to the earth restore5
Fresh light, but not the hope that we at last
Shall meet e'er night. the setting sun sink fast
And I have not beheld thee! Yet before
The last farewell is heard, tell my sad heart,
Tho' future scenes may from thy memory blot10
All traces where my image bore a part,
Yet can'st thou ne'er with scorn, or cruel thought
Recall thy friend, no rather in thy breast
In sweet oblivion let my follies rest.

XXVII. [91] 

Or do I dream, or do I view indeed
That form long-lov'd, deplor'd? Oft-soothing night,
By fancy aided, gave thee to my sight,
And thus I gaz'd, thus my fond soul could feed
On the vain image! 'till with cruel speed5
It vanish'd at the morn's returning light.
How cheerless have I mourn'd the phantoms bright,
Which seem'd to Pleasure's rosy gates to lead!
Ah is it thus? and am I doom'd again
To see my hopes dissolve like melting snow?10
To wake and weep, and all the anguish know
Of disappointment? yet, yet delay the pain;
Smile thus again, thus cheating all my woe,
Oh ever friendly vision yet remain!

XXVIII. [92] 

Oh London! have I bid thy varied scene
Farewell for ever! shall each well-known haunt
Endear'd by fond remembrances enchant
No more my heart? fled are the hours serene,
When round the board I bless'd the placid brow,5
The lov'd domestic circle, and the smile
Of the dear sportive friend, who could beguile
The course of chidden time, whose speech ev'n now
For ever parted us? The charm dissolv'd,
I wake as one from a delightful dream,10
And catch at each bright form whose fleeting gleam
Still rests upon my heart; past hours revolv'd
Soften by sweet reflection my sad road,
And free my heart of half its present load!

To DEATH [93] 

Oh! thou most terrible, most dreaded power,
In whatsoever form thou meet'st the eye!
Whether thou bid'st thy sudden arrow fly
In the dread silence of the midnight hour;
Or whether hovering o'er the lingering wretch5
Thy sad, cold javelin hangs suspended long,
While round the couch the weeping kindred throng,
With hope, and fear alternately on stretch.
Oh! say for me what horrors are prepared?
Am I now doom'd to meet thy fatal arm?10
Or wilt thou first from life steal every charm,
And bear away each good my soul would guard,
That thus depriv'd of all it lov'd, my heart
From life itself contentedly may part.

Addressed to my Brother
1805. [94] 

Brother beloved! if health shall smile again
Upon this wasted form, and fevered cheek;
If e'er returning vigour bids these weak,
And languid limbs their gladsome strength regain;
Well may thy brow the placid glow retain5
Of sweet content, and thy pleased eye may speak
Thy conscious self-applause; But should I seek
To utter what this heart can feel, Ah! vain
Were the attempt! Yet kindest friends, as o'er
My couch ye bend, and watch with tenderness10
The being whom your cares could even restore
From the cold grasp of death; say can you guess
The feelings which this lip can ne'er express?
Feelings deep fixed in grateful memory's store!

Blank Pages (133-138)

Page 133

Page 134

Page 135

Page 136

Page 137

Page 138

Lines omitted Page 84 after

"Assistance to each other's wants to lend"

Example rare to man, who oft will war
On his oppressed brother; such were then
The eloquent instructors of my soul,
Whose pure philosophy inspired my breast,
While on my placid brow I seemed to feel 5
The soft sweet breath of an all present God;
That breath which penetrates the ample world
And fans the elemental fire of life;
Inspiring matter with strange emotion; prompt
To animate &c &c _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ --10


[1] EDITOR'S NOTE: H.T. is Henry Tighe, Tighe’s husband. BACK

[2] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Vartree" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems (undated) and Mary (dated Rossana July 1797); the illustration in Verses is dated August 9, 1797 (which might apply to the poem or the image). The Vartry river flowed through the Tighe estate at Rossana (depicted in the illustration). BACK

[3] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Here more than anywhere else the plants are shady, the grass is soft, and it appears fresh and sweet." Although these lines are frequently attributed to Angelo Poliziano (by Tighe and others), they come from Francesco Maria Molza's "La Ninfa Tiberina" (stanza 27, lines 213-14), which was published in a collection of poetry attributed primarily to Poliziano: Le elegantissime stanze di M. Angelo Poliziano e la Ninfa tiberina del Molza , colla vita del Poliziano scritta dal Sig. abate Pier Antonio Serassi (1747). BACK

[4] EDITOR'S NOTE: Tighe used the name "Linda" in her literary circle; the editor of Psyche, with Other Poems replaces "Linda" with "Mary." BACK

[5] EDITOR'S NOTE: There is an X penciled at end of this line, which varies significantly from the version of "The Vartree" published in Psyche, with Other Poems: "Fallacious hopes the baffled soul annoy" (line 24). BACK

[6] EDITOR'S NOTE: Vot’ries: a votary is a devout adherent. BACK

[7] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Kiss" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is not dated in Verses but was probably written during the late 1790s or early 1800s when Tighe was exchanging "The Kiss" and other poems with Thomas Moore. See Tighe's "The Kiss. Imitated from Voiture" in volume two of Verses, which Moore praises in his response poem "To Mrs. ----. On Her Beautiful Translation of Voiture's Kiss" in The Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Little (1801), which contains another two poems titled "The Kiss." BACK

[8] EDITOR'S NOTE: "He" refers to love. BACK

[9] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Hours of Peace" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary and is undated in Verses but was probably written during the late 1790s or early 1800s. Caroline Hamilton includes a copy in NLI MS 4800 (the source text for Collected Poems and Journals) between two poems dated 1802: "To ----. 1802" and "Verses Written at the Commencement of Spring. 1802." Here, as in the preceding poem "The Kiss," Tighe refers to herself by her coterie name "Linda" and invokes Thomas Moore as "Anacreon." BACK

[10] EDITOR'S NOTE: Anacreon (582 BC - 485 BC) was a Greek lyric poet (born at Teos) famous for his drinking and love poems; Thomas Moore became known as "Anacreon" for his Odes of Anacreon (1800) and his sensual songs. BACK

[11] EDITOR'S NOTE: Teian rose refers to Anacreon (known as the Teian poet) and his famous ode on the healing scent of the rose. BACK

[12] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Faded Flowers" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. BACK

[13] EDITOR'S NOTE: Tighe quotes Proteus from Two Gentlemen of Verona (1.3.84-87)--"Oh, how this spring of love resembleth / The uncertain glory of an April day; / Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, / And by and by a cloud takes all away"--who has just learned he must part from his beloved Julia to obey his father's command that he further his education in Milan. BACK

[14] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Verses Written at the Commencement of Spring. 1802" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems and Mary. The editor of Psyche, with Other Poems notes the poem was "Written at Waltrim, the seat of the Reverend M. Sandys, who had lately lost a beloved child" (313). The editor of Mary dates the poem to 1803 and includes a four-stanza "Answer, by Mrs. S----" (22). The transcription in NLI MS 49,155/1 dates the poem to April 1803. The poem mourns the death of Tighe's nephew William Sandys, whose initials, W S, appear on the funeral urn in the image. BACK

[15] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Address to my Harp" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems and is not dated there or in Verses but may have been written in 1804 when Tighe travelled to England to seek a cure for her failing health. The illustration depicts Tighe's harp, made by Sebastion Erard c. 1787. Miranda O'Connell notes "This instrument was a treasured possession and travelled with her whenever possible because it had been made specially for her by Sebastian Erard, who had first established himself in Paris in 1768 as a piano and harp maker and opened a branch in London in 1786 at 18, Great Marlborough Street and another later (after the French Revolution, when he left Paris) in Regent Street. His name and his first London address are inscribed on Mary's harp" (192). BACK

[16] EDITOR'S NOTE: Psyche, with Other Poems does not include this stanza. BACK

[17] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Song Post nublia Phoebus" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary, and is undated in Verses. Hamilton copies lines 1-16 and 25-32 in NLI MS 4800 as "Song" (the source text for Collected Poems and Journals). The Latin phrase "post nublia Phoebus" means "after clouds, the sun." Tighe is invoking Phoebus Apollo, the sun god. BACK

[18] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The superannuated guide's Farewell to the Seven Churches Wicklow May 27, 1796" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). The title refers to Glendalough or the Seven Churches (shown in the illustration), a famous monastic site in Wicklow that has attracted pilgrims and tourists since it was founded by St. Kevin in the 6th century. BACK

[19] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Verses Written at the Devil's Bridge in Cardigan" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary; Henry and Lucy Moore include a copy of it from Verses in their 1811 Album (the source text for Collected Poems and Journals). The title refers to the Devil's Bridge that spans the Mynach river in Ceredigion, Wales (Cardiganshire county), an area that was once part of the Hafod Estate owned by Thomas Johnes. Tighe's illustration shows the first two bridges (a third was built in the early 1900s). BACK

[20] EDITOR'S NOTE: Propertius, Elegies, 1.18.3: "Here may I freely speak my secret anguish." BACK

[21] EDITOR'S NOTE: "La Cittadina Written Jan:y 1799" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary; Hamilton includes a copy of it in NLI MS 4801 as "La Cittadina: On Leaving Rossana 1798" (the source text for Collected Poems and Journals) and refers to it in her biography of Mary Tighe (NLI MS 4804). Hamilton omits lines 125-26 and garbles lines 139-42. January marked the beginning of the "season" for landowning families, who would leave their country homes and visit town (Dublin or London) for parties, theater, and politics. The illustration shows the distant prospect of Dublin (with the distinctive dome of the Four Courts). BACK

[22] EDITOR'S NOTE: Thomas Gray, The Progress of Poesy (1757), 1.3.11: "Glance their many-twinkling feet" (on Cytherea's day). BACK

[23] EDITOR'S NOTE: Tighe refers to the renowned Romantic-era actors John Bannister (1760-1836) and Sarah Siddons (1755-1831). BACK

[24] EDITOR'S NOTE: A reference to Harmony, the daughter of Venus and Mars. BACK

[25] EDITOR'S NOTE: A reference to Horace, whose patron Maecenas gave him the Sabine farm where Horace lived and wrote. BACK

[26] EDITOR'S NOTE: "For the Grave of Isis Written at Exmouth 1794" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals); like "Dirge Written at Brompton January 12 1805" in volume two of Verses this lyric mourns the death of Tighe's dog, Isis. BACK

[27] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Forget me not" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals); the illustration dates the poem to Glamorgan, September 1796 via the banner wrapped around the blue forget-me-nots, which reads "Myosotis scorpoides / forgiss mich nicht / Glamorgan: Sept 1796" (the flower's Latin name, which should be "myosotis scorpiodes," the German for "forget me not," and the place and date). The poem presents an extended translation of the lyrics for Lorenz Schneider's lied "Vergiss Mein Nicht" (falsely attributed to Mozart when it was published in Mainz, 1794):

Vergiss mein nicht, wenn dir die Freude winket,
Und einst der Gram mein liebend Herz verzehrt,
Vergiss mein nicht, wenn dein Vergnügen sinket
Und manchmal das Geshick den Freudentraum zerstört,
Und wenn der Freuden Schwarm sich schmeichelnd um dich schmieget,5
Vielleicht der Neuheit Reiz geprufte Treu besieget,
So hör' wenn still und ernst mein Auge zu dir spricht:
Vergiss mein nicht, vergiss mein nicht, vergiss mein nicht!
Vergiss mein nicht, da jetzt Schicksals Strenge
Dich von mir ruft, uns voneinander trennt,10
Da Mondenfrist, da ganze Jahreslänge
Mein Blick dich nicht mehr find't, mein Mund umsonst dich nennt.
Weih' mir auch jetzt entfernt zuweilen susse Stunden;
Die Freundschaft war ja nie an Ort und Zeit gebunden,
Und denk', dass, wo ich bin, mein Herz zu deinem spricht:15
Vergiss mein nicht, vergiss mein nicht, vergiss mein nicht!
Vergiss mein nicht, wenn lock're kühle Erde
Dies Herz einst deckt das zärtlich, zärtlich für dich shlug;
Denk' dass es dort vollkommner lieben werde,
Als da voll Schwachheit ich's, vielleicht voll Fehler trug.20
Dann soll mein freier Geist oft segnend um dich schweben
Und deinem Geiste Trost und süsse Ahnung geben.
Denk, das ich's sei, wenn's sanft in deiner Seele spricht:
Vergiss mein nicht, vergiss mein nicht, vergiss mein nicht.

[28] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Hope" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (and is undated in Verses) but is printed without a title or epigraph in Selena (the source text for Collected Poems and Journals), where it is attributed to the character Edwin Stanmore. The E.I. Fox manuscript transcription of this poem in the Belfast Public Library offers the alternate title "Le Retour De mon ami" (“the return of my friend”). BACK

[29] EDITOR'S NOTE: Thomas Gray, De Principiis Cogitandi (1775), 2.15: "Alas! Sweet hope in vain and vain prayer." BACK

[30] EDITOR'S NOTE: "A faithful friend is the medicine of life" is printed (undated) in Psyche, with Other Poems; Tighe inscribes an autograph copy on the first pages of her sister-in-law Camilla Blachford's album Album Camilla 1800 (NLW MS 22983B) ca. 1800. The title refers to the Wisdom of Sirach or Ecclesiasticus: "A faithful friend is the medicine of life; and they that fear the Lord shall find him" (6.16). BACK

[31] EDITOR'S NOTE: Tighe's note: "-------- Medio de fonte leporum / Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat. Lucretius." Tighe cites Lucretius's De Rerum Natura 4.1133-34: "From the midst of the fountain of delight arises a drop of bitterness to vex us even among the flowers." BACK

[32] EDITOR'S NOTE: The manuscript contains a very faded image that appears to be an outline of an urn (perhaps "sincerity's urn"). BACK

[33] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Stanzas Written at the Hotwells of Bristol July 1804" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals); dated July 1804, it was composed shortly after Tighe left Ireland for England to seek treatment for her failing health. The hot springs emerging from the rocks beneath the Avon river at Bristol's Hotwells (depicted in the illustration) were never quite as popular as the spas at Bath. BACK

[34] EDITOR'S NOTE: Tighe's note: "A white rose &c] In allusion to the rose lozenges which were the first gift of that kind friend, in whose lovely form the Spirit of Health then appear'd." BACK

[35] EDITOR'S NOTE: The E.I. Fox manuscript transcription of this poem in the Belfast Public Library footnotes the identity of the loved friend as follows: "The loved vision then was Mrs. Uniacke - Miss Nannette Beresford that had been - and Mrs. Doyne that now is." BACK

[36] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Morning" is printed without a date in Psyche, with Other Poems, with lines 13-16 omitted, and with the "Titonia" of the epigraph replaced with "Titania." BACK

[37] EDITOR'S NOTE: Statius, "To Sleep," Silvae 5.4.9-10: "So often does Tithonia pass me by and in pity sprinkle me with her chill whip" (D. R. Shackleton Bailey translation). BACK

[38] EDITOR'S NOTE: "To ----" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary; Hamilton includes a copy titled "To ----C----e" in NLI MS 4800 (the source text for Collected Poems and Journals), which suggests the poem may refer to a member of the Fortescue family. BACK

[39] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Picture Written for Angela 1802" is printed without a title or date in Selena, where it is attributed to the character Angela Harley (a painter), and is printed with a title (but no date) in Psyche, with Other Poems, which notes "This, with some other poems, belong to a novel written by Mrs. H. Tighe, and which is now in the possession of the editor" (313). The copy in Psyche, with Other Poems faithfully follows the copy in Verses. BACK

[40] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Elegy Written for Emily 1802" is printed without a title or date in Selena, where it is attributed to the character Lady Emily Trevallyn, who preserves it in a copy of William Withering's Botanical Arrangement of All the Vegetables Naturally Growing in Great Britain (1776). BACK

[41] EDITOR'S NOTE: Carl Linnaeus (1707-1778), the father of modern taxonomy and author of Systema Naturae, (1735-1758), Philosophia Botanica (1751), Species Plantarum (1753), Genera Plantarum (1737), etc. BACK

[42] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Stanzas Written for Angela 1800" is printed without a date or title in Selena, where it is attributed to the character Angela Harley. BACK

[43] EDITOR'S NOTE: A shorter and re-ordered version of "Verses Written for Emily 1799" attributed to the character Lady Emily Trevallyn is printed in Selena without a title and date (the source text for Collected Poems and Journals), omitting lines 1-12 and 33-36. The poem in Selena begins with lines 37-44, continues with lines 13-32, and concludes with lines 45-56. The illustration's depiction of crossed torches images "Fancy's torch" (line 55). BACK

[44] EDITOR'S NOTE: The enchantress Circe is most famous for turning Odysseus's men into swine in the Odyssey and, after reversing the enchantment, keeping Odysseus and his crew intoxicated for a year. BACK

[45] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Verses Written for Angela 1804" does not appear in Selena (or Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary or Collected Poems and Journals) but is clearly attributed to the character Angela Harley. BACK

[46] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Song to Oberon" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. Addressed to Shakespeare's fairy king Oberon from A Midsummer Night's Dream, the poem follows Frances Greville's "A Prayer for Indifference" (1759): "Oft I've implor'd the gods in vain, / And pray'd till I've been weary; / For once I'll seek my wish to gain / Of Oberon, the Fairy" (lines 1-4). BACK

[47] EDITOR'S NOTE: Tighe breaks the rhyme scheme here (joy/sigh). BACK

[48] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written for the Hamwood Album 1804" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary; Tighe inscribes an autograph copy in her cousin Caroline's Hamwood Album (NLW MS 22984C) in April 1803 (the source text for Collected Poems and Journals). BACK

[49] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Minstrel" is printed in Selena without a title or date (the source text for Collected Poems and Journals), where it is attributed to the poet and singer Edwin Stanmore, and is meant to invoke James Beattie's The Minstrel (1771). BACK

[50] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Scissars A Riddle" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. BACK

[51] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Imitation from Colardeau" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary. It presents a verse translation of Charles Pierre Colardeau's 36-line poem "A Mon Ami. Stances" which was set to music by Francois-Adrien Boieldieu in 1801:

Tu plains mes jours troublés par tant d'orages,
Mes jours affreux, d'ombres environnés.
Va, les douleurs m'ont mis au rang des sages;
Et la raison suit les infortunés.
A tous les goûts d'une folle jeunesse 5
J'abandonnai l'essor de mes desirs:
A peine, hélas! j'en ai senti l'ivresse,
Qu'un prompt réveil a détruit mes plaisirs.
Brûlant d'amour et des feux du bel âge,
J'idolâtrai de trompeuses beautés. 10
J'aimois les fers d'un si doux esclavage;
En les brisant, je les ai regrettés.
J'offris alors aux filles de mémoire
Un fugitif de sa chaîne échappé;
Mais je ne pus arracher à la gloire 15
Qu'un vain laurier que la foudre a frappé.
Enfin j'ai vu de mes jeunes années
L'astre palir au midi de son cours:
Depuis long-temps la main des destinées
Tourne à regret le fuseau de mes jours. 20
Gloire, plaisir, cet éclat de la vie,
Bientôt pour moi tout s'est évanoui;
Ce songe heureux dont l'erreur m'est ravie
Fut trop rapide, et j'en ai peu joui.
Mais l'amitié sait, par son éloquence, 25
Calmer des maux qu'elle aime à partager;
Et chaque jour ma pénible existence
Devient près d'elle un fardeau plus léger.
Jusqu'au tombeau si son appui me reste,
Il est encor des plaisirs pour mon coeur; 30
Et ce débris d'un naufrage funeste
Pourra lui seul me conduire au bonheur.
Quand l'infortune ôte le droit de plaire,
Intéresser est le bien le plus doux;
Et l'amitié nous est encor plus chere, 35
Lorsque l'amour s'envole loin de nous.
The epigraph literally translates as "you pity my troubled days." BACK

[52] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Melancholy Imitated from L'Abbate Monti. 1804" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). It presents a verse translation of Vincenzo Monti's "Entusiasmo Malinconico" (published in Saggio di Poesie, 1779):

Dolce de mali obblio, dolce dell' alma
Conforto, se le cure egre talvolta
Van de' pensieri a intorbidar la calma.
O cara Solitudine, una volta
A sollevar, deh! vieni i miei tormenti5
Tutta nel velo della notte avvolta.
Te chiamano le amiche ombre dolenti
Di questa selva, e i placidi sospiri
Tra fronda e fronda de' nascosti venti.
Sei tu forse, che intorno a me t'aggiri,10
E simile alle fioche aure del bosco
Il tuò furor patetico m'inspiri?
Si, tu sei dessa; il tuo sembiante fosco
Risvegliator di lagrimosi carmi,
Io mi veggo su gli occhi, io lo conosco.15
Sento le membra tutte palpitarmi,
E da bollenti spiriti sconvolto
Il cerebro infiammarsi, e il cor tremarmi.
L'informe dell'idee popolo folto
A fremere incomincia, e m'arronciglia20
Gli occhi, la fronte, e mi rabbuffa il volto.
Il pensier si sprigiona, e senza briglia
Va scorrendo, qual turbo inferocito,
Che il dormente Oceàn desta e scompiglia.
In quai caverne, in qual deserto lito25
Or vien egli sospinto? È forse questo
Il sentier d'Acheronte e di Cocìto?
Odo dell' aura errante il fischiar mesto,
E il taciturno mormorar del fonte,
Che un freddo invìa su l'alma orror funesto.30
Su i fianchi alpestri, e sul ciglion del monte
Van cavalcando i nembi orridi e cupi,
E stan pendenti in minacciosa fronte.
Oh piagge oscure! oh spaventose rupi!
Oh rio silenzio! oh solitarie speco,35
Segreto albergator d'orsi e di lupi!
Tu mi capisci: il tenebror tuo cieco
Piace al cor mesto; e forza acquista e lena
Da te la doglia, e quel terror che è meco.
Forse un tempo segnar quest'arsa arena40
L'orme di qualche disperato Amante,
Cui la vita fu tronca dalla pena.
Anch'io qua movo il debil passo errante
D'amor trafitto, e il mio tormento chiede
Confidenza da queste orride piante.45
Mostro senza pietade e senza fede,
Crudel Amor! tu dunque troverai
Chi t'arda incensi, e ti si curvi al piede?
Maledetto il pensier ch'io ti donai;
Maledette le trecce, e la scaltrita50
Sembianza, onde sedurre. io mi lasciai;
Maledetta l'infausta ombra romita
Conscia de' miei trionfi, e della spene
Lungo tempo felice, e poi tradita.
Folle, che dissi? D'un perduto bene,55
Che lo spirto deluso ange e percote;
Chi la memoria a suscitarmi or viene?
Ahi, che l'alma delira; e per le gote
Tremolo va serpendo orror soverchio,
E un altro fiero immaginar mi scuote!60
Veggo le nubi trascinate a cerchio
Dagli iracondi venti al Mondo tutto
Far di sopra un ferale atro coperchio.
Mugge il tuono fra' lampi e dappertutto
Dal sen de' nembi la tempesta sbalza,65
E schianta i boschi il ruinoso flutto.
Piombano con furor di balza in balza
Gonfi i torrenti, e tetti e selve e massi
In giù la strepitosa onda trabalza.
Ah voi fuggite, o miei pensieri, e lassi 70
Nascondetevi tutti al triste obbietto,
Finchè del cielo la procella passi!
O flebil antro, o flebile ricetto,
Lascia, che in questa almen nera spelonca
Ricovri alquanto il conturbato petto.75
Del tufo sotto alla scavata conca
Corrono ad incontrarmi le tenèbre,
E ognuna sul mio crin piove, e si tronca.
Spettri e larve davanti alle palpèbre
Passar mi veggo bisbigliando, e sento,80
Che gemono d'intorno in suon funèbre.
Oimè! forse d'errante Ombra il lamento
È quel, che dalla cavernosa volta
Emerge mormorando lento lento?
Se nemica non sei, fermati, ascolta:85
Tu, che meco confondi le querele,
Che vuoi da me, dogliosa Ombra insepolta?
Ma tace l'indiscreta Ombra crudele,
E per l'orror del tenebroso albergo
Sol la cupa risponde Eco fedele.90
Ahi! chi m'ágghiaccia il cor? di qual m'aspergo
Freddo sudor la fronte? e qual tremendo
Fantasma è quello, che mi vien da tergo?
Sostienmi, o mio coraggio. Ecco l'orrendo
Volto di Morte! Arricciasi ogni pelo,95
E l'alma al cuor precipita fremendo.
Ah fuggi, ah fuggi, e alle mie vene un gelo
Sì feroce risparmia! In queste grotte
Forse t' invìa per mio supplizio il Cielo?
Deh, che questa non sia l'ultima notte 100
De' crescenti miei di; Guardami, e vedi,
Che innanzi tempo il tuo furor m'inghiotte .
Tu mi guati, non parli, e ritta in piedi
Pietosamente ti soffermi, e alquanto
Respirar dalla tema mi concedi.105
Oh Morte! oh Morte l Eppur terribil tanto
Non sei qual sembri. Tu su gli occhi adesso
Mi chiami, in vece di spavento, il pianto.
Dunque più non fuggir, vienmi dappresso;
Ah, perchè tremo ancor? Vieni, ch'io voglio110
Ne' tuoi sembianti contemplar me stesso.
Questo, che stringo d'ogni carne spoglio
Scheltro sventrato, che di rea paura
Empie la polve dell' umano orgoglio;
Questa di coste orribil selva e dura;115
Queste mascelle digrignate, e questa
Degli occhi atra caverna e sepoltusa,
Quale al pensier mi avventano funesta
Luce lugubre, che all'incerto ciglio
Rompe la benda, e dal letargo il desta!120
Di putredine e fango anch'io son figlio;
E tu tra poco, inesorabil Morte,
Su queste membra stenderai l'artiglio.
Di due contrarie Eternita le porte
Tu mi spalanchi. Io le riguardo, e tremo,125
E il pallor cresce delle guance smorte.
A qual di queste, o mie speranze, andremo?
E qual fia l'ora, che la man del Fato
M'abbranchi, e de' miei di tronchi l'estremo?
Lasso! alle spalle ei già mi rugghia, e alzato130
Tienmi il ferro sul capo, e il colpo affretta,
Gridando orrendamente, il mio peccato.
Addio, dolci lusinghe! addio, diletta
Immagine di vita! Ecco d'accanto
Stammi la Morte, che la falce ha stretta.135
Deh, la sospenda ancor per poco! e intanto
Dall' aperte pupille mi trabocchi
Fiume d' amaro inconsolabil pianto;
Poichè bello è il morir col pianto agli occhi. (1-139)
Tighe's friend Joseph Cooper Walker commends this poem in his Historical Memoir on Italian Tragedy (1799): "In his Versi, the little poem entitled Entusiasmo Malinconico, is worthy the vigorous pencil, and gloomy genius of his favourite Dante: even the 'black melancholy' of Pope, breathing her horrors o'er the deep woods, and falling waters of the Paraclete, must yield, in sublimity, to the Entusiasmo Malinconico of our author" (33). BACK

[53] EDITOR'S NOTE: Acheron, the river of pain, was thought to flow into Hades. BACK

[54] EDITOR'S NOTE: "To ---- Imitated from Monti 1804" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). It presents a verse translation of Monti's "Al Principe Don Sigismondo Chigi" (1783):

Dunque fu di natura ordine e fato,
che di là donde il bene ne deriva
del mal pur anco scaturir dovesse
la torbida sorgente? Oh saggio, oh solo
a me rimasto negli avversi casi5
consolator, che non torcesti mai
dalle pene d'altrui lungi lo sguardo,
e scarso di parole e largo d'opre
co' benefizi al mio dolor soccorri,
Gismondo; e qual di gioie e di martiri10
portentosa mistura è il cuor dell'uomo!
Questa parte di me che sente e vede,
questo di vita fuggitivo spirto
che mi scalda le membra e le penètra,
con quale ardor, con qual diletto un tempo15
scorrea pe' campi di natura, e tutte
a me dintorno rabbellía le cose!
Or s'è cangiato in mio tiranno, in crudo
carnefice, che il frale onde son cinto
romper minaccia, e le corporee forze,20
qual tarlo roditor, logora e strugge.
Giorni beati che in solingo asilo
senza nube passai, chi vi disperse?
Ratti qual lampo, che la buia notte
segna talor di momentaneo solco,25
e su gli occhi le tenebre raddoppia
al pellegrin che si sgomenta e guata,
qual mio fallo v'estinse? e tanto amara
or mi rende di voi la rimembranza,
che pria si dolce mi scendea sul core?30
Allorché il sole (io lo rammento spesso)
d'orïente sul balzo compariva
a risvegliar dal suo silenzio il mondo,
e agli oggetti rendea piú vivi e freschi
i color che rapiti avea la sera;35
dall'umile mio letto anch'io sorgendo,
a salutarlo m'affrettava, e fiso
tenea l'occhio a mirar come nascoso
di la del colle ancora ei fea da lunge
degli alti gioghi biondeggiar le cime;40
poi, come lenta in giú scorrea la luce
il dosso imporporando e i fianchi alpestri,
e dilatata a me venía d'incontro
che a' piedi l'attendea della montagna.
Dall'umido suo sen la terra allora45
su le penne dell'aure mattutine
grata innalzava di profumi un nembo;
e altero di sé stesso e sorridente
su i benefizi suoi l'aureo pianeta
nel vapor che odoroso ergeasi in alto50
gía rinfrescando le divine chiome,
e fra il concento degli augelli e il plauso
delle create cose egli sublime
per l'azzurro del ciel spingea le rote.
Allor sul fresco margine d'un rivo55
m'adagiava tranquillo in su l'erbetta,
che lunga e folta mi sorgea dintorno
e tutto quasi mi copriva: ed ora
supino mi giacea, fosche mirando
pender le selve dall'opposta balza,60
e fumar le colline, e tutta in faccia
di sparsi armenti biancheggiar la rupe;
or rivolto col fianco al ruscelletto,
io mi fermava a riguardar le nubi
che tremolando si vedean riflesse65
nel puro trapassar specchio dell'onda:
poi, del gentil spettacolo già sazio,
tra i cespi, che mi fean corona e letto,
si fissava il mio sguardo, e attento e cheto
il picciol mondo a contemplar poneami70
che tra gli steli brulica dell'erbe,
e il vago e vario degli insetti ammanto
e l'indole diversa e la natura.
Altri a torma e fuggenti in lunga fila
vengono e van per via carchi di preda;75
altri sta solitario, altri l'amico
in suo cammino arresta, e con lui sembra
gran cose conferir: questi d'un fiore
l'ambrosia sugge e la rugiada, e quello
al suo rival ne disputa l'impero;80
e venir tosto a lite, ed azzuffarsi,
e avviticchiati insieme ambo repente
giú dalla foglia sdrucciolar li vedi.
Né valor manca in quegli angusti petti,
previdenza, consiglio, odio ed amore.85
Quindi alcuni tra lor miti e pietosi
prestansi aita ne' bisogni; assai
migliori in ciò dell'uom, che al suo fratello
fin nella stessa povertà fa guerra:
ed altri poscia, da vorace istinto90
alla strage chiamati ed agl'inganni,
della morte d'altrui vivono; e sempre
del piú gagliardo, come avvien tra noi,
o del piú scaltro la ragion prevale.
Questi gli oggetti e questi erano un tempo95
gli eloquenti maestri che di pura
filosofia m'empian la mente e il petto;
mentre soave mi sentia sul volto
spiar del nume onnipossente il soffio,
quel soffio che le viscere serpendo100
dell'ampia terra, e ventilando il chiuso
elementar foco di vita, e tutta
la materia agitando e le seguaci
forme che inerti le giaceano in grembo,
l'une contro dell'altre in bel conflitto105
arma le forze di natura, e tragge
da tanta guerra l'armonia del mondo.
Scorreami quindi per le calde vene
un torrente di gioia; e discendea
questo vasto universo entro mia mente,110
or come grave sasso che nel mezzo
piomba d'un lago, e l'agita e sconvolge
e lo fa tutto ribollir dal fondo;
or come immago di leggiadra amante,
che di grato tumulto i sensi ingombra115
e serena sul cor brilla e riposa.
Ma piú quell'io non son. Cangiaro i tempi,
cangiar le cose. Della gioia estremo
regnò sull'alma il sentimento: estremi
or vi regnano ancora i miei martiri.120
E come stenderò su le ferite
l'ardita mano, e toglieronne il velo?
Una fulgida chioma al vento sparsa,
un dolce sguardo ed un piú dolce accento,
un sorriso, un sospir dunque potero125
non preveduto suscitarmi in seno
tanto incendio d'affetti e tanta guerra?
E non son questi i fior, queste le valli,
che già parver sí belle agli occhi miei?
Chi di fosco le tinse? e chi sul ciglio130
mi calò questa benda? Oimè! l'orrore
che sgorga di mia mente e il cor m'allaga,
di natura si sparse anche sul volto
e l'abbuiò. Me misero! non veggo
che lugubri deserti; altro non odo135
che urlar torrenti e mugolar tempeste.
Dovunque il passo e la pupilla movo,
escono d'ogni parte ombre e paure,
e muta stammi e scolorita innanzi
qual deforme cadavere la terra.140
Tutto è spento per me. Sol vive eterno
il mio dolor, né mi riman conforto
che alzar le luci al cielo e sciormi in pianto.
Ah che mai vagheggiarti io non dovea,
fatal beltade! Senza te venuto145
questo non fòra orribil cangiamento.
Girar tranquilli sul mio capo avrei
visto i pianeti, e piú tranquilla ancora
la mia polve tornar donde fu tolta.
Ma in que' vergini labbri, in que' begli occhi150
aver quest'occhi inebrïati, e dolce
sentirmi ancor nell'anima rapita
scorrere il suono delle tue parole;
amar te sola, e rïamato amante
non essere felice; e veder quindi155
contra me, contra te, contra le voci
di natura e del ciel sorger crudeli
gli uomini, i pregiudizi e la fortuna;
perder la speme di donarti un giorno
nome piú sacro che d'amante, e caro160
peso vederti dal mio collo pendere,
e d'un bacio pregarmi e d'un sorriso
con angelico vezzo; abbandonarti...
Obblïarti, e per sempre... Ah lungi, lungi,
feroce idea; tu mi spaventi, e cangi165
tutta in furor la tenerezza mia.
Allor requie non trovo. Io m'alzo, e corro
forsennato pe' campi, e di lamenti
le caverne riempio, che dintorno
risponder sento con pietade. Allora170
per dirupi m'e dolce inerpicarmi,
e a traverso di folte irte boscaglie
aprir la via col petto, e del mio sangue
lasciarmi dietro rosseggianti i dumi.
La rabbia che per entro mi divora,175
di fuor trabocca. Infiammansi le membra,
l'anelito s'addoppia, e piove a rivi
il sudor della fronte rabbuffata.
Piú scaltrezza al sentier, piú forza al piede,
piú ristoro al mio cor; finché smarrito180
di balza in balza valicando, all'orlo
d'un abisso mi spingo. A riguardarlo
si rizzano le chiome, e il piè s'arretra.
A poco a poco quel terror poi cede,
e un pensiero sottentra ed un desío,185
disperato desío. Ritto su i piedi
stommi, ed allargo le tremanti braccia
inclinandomi verso la vorago.
L'occhio guarda laggiuso, e il cor respira;
e immaginando nel piacer mi perdo190
di gittarmi là dentro, onde a' miei mali
por termine, e nei vortici travolto
romoreggiar del profondo torrente.
Codardo! ancora non osai dall'alto
staccar l'incerto piede, e coraggioso195
in giú col capo rovesciarmi. Ancora
al suo fin non è giunta la mia polve,
e un altro istante mi condanna il fato
di questo sole a contemplar l'aspetto.
Oh! perché non poss'io la mia deporre200
d'uom tutta dignitade, e andar confuso
col turbine che passa, e su le penne
correr del vento a lacerar le nubi,
o su i campi a destar dell'ampio mare
gli addormentati nembi e le procelle!205
Prigioniero mortal! dunque non fia
questo diletto un dí, questo destino
parte di nostra eredità? Qualunque
mi serbi il ciel condizïon si spirto,
perché, Gismondo, prolungar cotanto210
questo lampo di luce? Un sol potea,
un sol oggetto lusingarmi: il cielo
al mio desire invidïollo, e l'odio
mi lasciò della vita e di me stesso.
Tu di Sofia cultor felice, e speglio215
di candor, d'amistade e cortesia,
tu per me vivi, e su l'acerbo caso
una stilla talor spargi di pianto,
o generoso degli afflitti amico.
Allorché d'un bel giorno in su la sera220
l'erta del monte ascenderai soletto,
di me ti risovvenga, e sul quel sasso,
che lagrimando del mio nome incisi,
su quel sasso fedel siedi e sospira.
Volgi il guardo di là verso la valle,225
e ti ferma a veder come da lunge
su la mia tomba invia l'ultimo raggio
il sol pietoso, e dolcemente il vento
fa l'erba tremolar che la ricopre. (1-229)
Tighe includes lines 130-47 in Selena as a translation of the lines her character Sidney Dallamore quotes in the novel (150-65). BACK

[55] EDITOR'S NOTE: Champaign: countryside. BACK

[56] EDITOR'S NOTE: Emanathe: emanate. BACK

[57] EDITOR'S NOTE: Tighe's note: "See Page 139." The last page of the manuscript (139) provides nine "Lines omitted Page 84 after 'Assistance to each other's wants to lend'" and before "To animate &c &c -------" included above. BACK

[58] EDITOR'S NOTE: In Selena this line is the beginning of Sidney's translation. BACK

[59] EDITOR'S NOTE: In the illustration the tombstone appears to be inscribed with the initials "E S" or "C S." "C S" could refer to Carlotta Stewart, the beloved who inspired Monti's "Al Principe Don Sigismondo Chigi" and "Pensieri d'amore." BACK

[60] EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Death of Lausus" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). It presents a verse translation of Virgil's Aeneid 10.755-908, and is dated "Glamorganshire November 1796" in the illustration. "Virgil. Aeneid lib. X." is written in blue ink in the manuscript. Tighe was taking Latin lessons from her husband in November 1796. BACK

[61] EDITOR'S NOTE: The only unrhymed line in the poem. BACK

[62] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Verses Written in Sickness Dec.r 1804" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems, which omits lines 32-36 in the third edition but includes them in the fourth edition. The transcription in NLI MS 49,155/1 dates the poem to Brompton 1804. BACK

[63] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Composed on the White Sands near Arklow" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals), and is not dated in Verses. The illustration depicts the cliffs of South Devon, England between the River Exe and the Dawlish River, which Tighe is recalling in Arklow, Country Wicklow, Ireland. BACK

[64] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written at Scarborough 1799" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). BACK

[65] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written at Scarborough Augt 1799" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems (dated August, 1799) and Mary (dated August 1796). A letter from Tighe to her mother situates the Tighes in Scarborough on July 24, 1796 (PRONI MS D/2685), but they may have gone several times. The illustration depicts the ruins of Scarborough Castle on the rocky promontory overlooking the harbor. BACK

[66] EDITOR'S NOTE: "When glowing Phoebus quits the weeping earth" is printed as "Sonnet" in Psyche, with Other Poems (undated). BACK

[67] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written in Autumn 1795" is printed as "Sonnet" in Psyche, with Other Poems (undated). BACK

[68] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Poor, fond deluded heart! wilt thou again" is printed as "Sonnet" in Psyche, with Other Poems (undated) and Mary, where it is dated March 1798. The words inscribed on the stone in the illustration--"Credule, quid frustra simulacra fugacia captas? / Quod petis est nusquam."-- come from Ovid's Echo and Narcissus, Metamorphoses 3.432-3: "O fondly foolish boy, why vainly seek to clasp a fleeting image? What you seek is nowhere" (Frank Justus Miller translation). BACK

[69] EDITOR'S NOTE: "For me would Fancy now her chaplet twine " is printed as "Sonnet" in Psyche, with Other Poems without a date but is dated 1799 in NLI MS 49,155/1. The illustration depicts a chaplet or garland such as Tighe might have worn; in a letter dated July 1796 the Reverend Samuel Pierce writes to his wife about a visit with the Tighe family that describes how Tighe "entered the room, soon after I came to Rosanna, with a chaplet of roses about her head" (cited in William Howitt's 1847 Homes and Haunts of the British Poets). BACK

[70] EDITOR'S NOTE: "As one who late hath lost a friend ador'd" is printed as "Sonnet" in Psyche, with Other Poems (undated) and Mary, where it is titled "Sonnet" and dated "London June 1794." BACK

[71] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written in the Church yard at Malvern" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems (undated). The illustration depicts the Great Malvern Priory of Malvern (a spa town in Worcestershire). BACK

[72] EDITOR'S NOTE: "To Time" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems (undated). BACK

[73] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Ye dear associates of my gayer hours" is printed as "Sonnet" in Psyche, with Other Poems (undated) and Mary, where it is titled "Sonnet" and dated 1800. BACK

[74] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Can I look back, and view with tranquil eye" is printed in Mary as "Sonnet" (which does not identify it as a translation) and is dated December 1796 in NLI MS 49,155/1. It presents a verse translation of Petrarch's Sonnet 273:

Che fai? che pensi? ché pur dietro guardi
nel tempo che tornar non pote omai?
Anima sconsolata, ché pur vai
giugnendo legno al foco ove tu ardi?
Le soavi parole e i dolci sguardi 5
ch' ad un ad un descritti et depinti ài
son levati de terra, et è, ben sai,
qui ricercarli intempestivo et tardi.
Deh, non rinovellar quel che n'ancide,
non seguir più penser vago fallace 10
ma saldo et certo, ch' a buon fin ne guide;
cerchiamo 'l Ciel se qui nulla ne piace,
ché mal per noi quella beltà si vide
se viva et morta ne devea tor pace.
Mark Musa translates Sonnet 273 as follows:
What’s going on? What thoughts are these? Why still
look back to times that never can return?
Unhappy soul, why do you keep on heaping
more wood upon the fire burning you?
The gentle words and the enchanting glances5
which you described and colored one by one
have been removed from earth; as well you know
it’s foolish and too late to seek them here.
Ah, don’t renew what tortures us to death;
stop following a vague, deceptive thought;10
pursue what’s fixed and true that leads to good.
Let’s look for Heaven, since nothing pleases here,
for all too badly we have seen that beauty,
alive or dead, must rob us of our peace.

[75] EDITOR'S NOTE: "As nearer I approach that fatal day" is printed as "Sonnet" in Psyche, with Other Poems (undated) and Mary, where it is dated November 1801. Neither Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary identify it as a verse translation of Petrarch's Sonnet 32:

Quanto più m'avicino al giorno estremo
che l'umana miseria suol far breve,
più veggio il tempo andar veloce et leve
e ''l mio di lui sperar fallace et scemo.
I' dico a' miei pensier: "Non molto andremo 5
d'amor parlando omai, ché 'l duro et greve
terreno incarco come fresca neve
si va struggendo, onde noi pace avremo;
"perché con lui cadrà quella speranza
che ne fe' vaneggiar sì lungamente, 10
e 'l riso e 'l pianto, et la paura et l'ira:
"sì vedrem chiaro poi come sovente
per le cose dubbiose altri s'avanza,
et come spesso indarno si sospira."
Mark Musa translates Sonnet 32 as follows:
The closer that I come to the last day
that seems to shorten human misery
the more I see time running swift and light
and all my hope in him deceived and vain.
I tell my thoughts: “We won’t talk much of love5
for very long now, for this hard and heavy
earthly burden, like freshly fallen snow
is melting, and at last we shall know peace,
“since with the weight there also falls that hope
which made us go on raving for so long:10
the laughter and the tears and fears and anger;
“then clearly we shall see how often here
one chases after things that are uncertain
and how so often one must sigh in vain.”

[76] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Addressed to the Ladies of Langollen Vale" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals); the illustration suggests that the poem was written in 1796, but Anna Seward praises it as "an elegant and accurate sonnet" in a letter to Rev. Henry White dated April 7, 1795 (Seward, Letters 4.108). The illustration depicts the famous home of the Ladies of Llangollen, Lady Eleanor Butler and Sarah Ponsonby (a cousin to Tighe's aunt and mother-in-law Sarah Tighe), bookended by four lines from Petrarch's Sonnet 10: "qui non palazzi, non teatro o loggia; / ma 'n lor vece un abete, un faggio, un pino-- / tra l'erba verde e 'l bel monte vicino / levan di terra al ciel nostr' intellecto" (lines 5-7, 9). Mark Musa translates these lines as follows: "there are no palaces, theaters, or loggias here; / instead a fir, a beech, a pine tree stand-- / between green grass and mountainside nearby, / to lift our intellects from earth to heaven." BACK

[77] EDITOR'S NOTE: Tighe's note: "The Aeolian harp." BACK

[78] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Addressed to the Revd. W: L: Bowles" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). William Bowles's Fourteen Sonnets (1789) were immensely popular, akin to Charlotte Smith's Elegiac Sonnets and Other Poems (1784-1797), invoked via the image of the nightingale in lines 13-14. BACK

[79] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written at Rossana Novr 18. 1799" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems and Mary. The illustration identifies the torn flower as a "Geranium Robertianum." BACK

[80] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written at Rossana August 1797" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems (undated); the illustration depicts the famous chestnut trees at Rossana (in 2009 the Tree Council of Ireland identified the Sweet/Spanish Chestnut or John Wesley Tree at Rosanna as a champion tree). BACK

[81] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written at the Eagle's Nest Killarney July 26. 1800," the first of the three Killarney sonnets, is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems and Selena, where it is attributed to Sidney Dallamore (and titled "Sonnet Written at the Eagles Nest"); the illustration offers a view of the Eagle's Nest Mountain at Killarney. BACK

[82] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written at Killarney July 29. 1800" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems and Selena (attributed to Sidney Dallamore and titled "Sonnet Returning at Night"); the illustration offers a view of Ross Castle at Killarney. BACK

[83] EDITOR'S NOTE: "On leaving Killarney August 5. 1800" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems (and is only invoked in Selena by the narrator); the illustration offers another view of the lakes and mountains of Killarney. BACK

[84] EDITOR'S NOTE: "To Cowper and his Mary Augt 17.th 1803" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary; Tighe sent a copy of it in a letter to Walker postmarked August 13, 1803 (the source text for Collected Poems and Journals) when she had finished reading William Hayley's Life and Posthumous Writings of William Cowper (1803). The sonnet was inspired by the description of Hayley's son Tom taking Cowper's disabled companion Mary Unwin about the garden (and refers to the deaths of all three as well as Cowper's bouts of madness). The illustration shows a butterfly (image of the soul) emerging from a caterpillar's carapace. BACK

[85] EDITOR'S NOTE: Tighe's note: "Thomas Hayley. See Hayley's life of Cowper." BACK

[86] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written for Angela 1802" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems, Mary, or Selena (although it is clearly written for Angela Harley). The illustration depicts Muckross Abbey at Killarney. BACK

[87] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Written for Angela 1802" is printed in Selena under the title "Sonnet" (undated), where it is attributed to Angela Harley. BACK

[88] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Could the sad trembling tenant of this breast" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals); the illustration dates the poem to Harling Hall 1798 and depicts the church next to West Harling Hall in Norfolk. Tighe makes the following note to the title: "In allusion to a fanciful idea of some metaphysicians, that the soul quits the body and feels herself at liberty during the hours of Sleep--." BACK

[89] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Thy Summer's day was long, but could'st thou think" is printed in Mary, where it is dated 1802. BACK

[90] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Yes we must part -- the cruel struggle o'er" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals). The illustration suggests the poem was written with the character Angela Harley in mind. BACK

[91] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Or do I dream, or do I view indeed" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. BACK

[92] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Oh London! have I bid thy varied scene" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. BACK

[93] EDITOR'S NOTE: "To Death" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems (undated) and in Mary, where it is dated Cheltenham Aug 1795. BACK

[94] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Addressed to my Brother 1805" is printed in Psyche, with Other Poems. BACK