I GO, SWEET FRIENDS! BY MRS HEMANS. I Go, sweet friends! yet think of me When spring's young voice awakes the flowers; For we have wander'd far and free In those bright hours, the violet's hours. I go, but when you pause to hear, From distant hills, the sabbath-bell On summer-winds float silvery clear, Think on me then-I loved it well! Forget me not around your hearth, And oh! when music's voice is heard Thou art the man in whom my soul delights, Rowe. Is all the counsel that we two have shared, All school-day's friendship, childhood innocence? Two lovely berries moulded on one stem: Shakspeare. As we do turn our backs From our companion, thrown into his grave: Slink all away: leave their false vows with him, With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty, Walks, like contempt, alone. Shakspeare. Gratitude. A POET'S GRATITUDE. BY SOUTHEY. ONCE more I see thee, Skiddaw! once again Where, like the bulwark of this favour'd plain rest. Once more, O Derwent! to thy awful shores Twelve years, (how large a part of man's brief day!) Nor idly, nor ingloriously spent, Of evil and of good have held their way, Since first upon thy banks I pitch'd my tent. |