Page images
PDF
EPUB

A GIFT.

I HAVE found out a gift for my fair;
I have found where the wood-pigeons breed;
But let me that plunder forbear,

She will say 'twas a barbarous deed :
For he ne'er could be true, she averr'd,
Who could rob a poor bird of its young;
And I loved her the more when I heard
Such tenderness fall from her tongue.

SHENSTONE.

5

THE BITTER FRUITS OF JEALOUSY.

66 Go shut the door, my Edward dear,
Shut close the door, I pray ;

Let no keen search my treadings trace,
Nor listen what I say."

So Allen spake, as guilt bestain'd

Some wild he did explore,

When instinct led his pathless foot

To Edward's friendly door.

'Tween horrid dread and conscious shame,

Full mighty was the strife,

While from his now enfeebled hands

Down dropp'd a reeking knife.

5

ΙΟ

"What means that steel? what means that glow,

Wherewith thy visage burns?

Now ghastly pale, alack! succeeds,

And now the red returns."

Say will you plight your promise dear,

And will you plight your say,

That what I now entrust to you

Your tongue shall ne'er betray?"

"Yea, I will plight my promise, dear, And I will plight my say,

15

20

That what you shall entrust to me

My tongue shall ne'er betray."
"Ah! was not she the fairest fair,
More dear than life to me?
Yet ne'er shall I again behold
My Lucy sweet to see."

"Yea, she was fairest of the fair,

More dear than life to thee

30

And hast thou scath'd with deadly stroke

Thy Lucy sweet to see?"

"Woe worth the day !-that very wreath,

Which with a loving vow

This morn I gave her, I beheld,

35

Ere noon, on Edwin's brow.

"When as she took it sweet she smiled,

Yet could she from it part?

So proud, methought he taunted me,

Full deep it irk'd my heart.

40

"And irk'd be still this cruel heart!

[blocks in formation]

"Allen, my friend, you grieve my soul,

Your sorrow is but just,

Since she is gone, that fairest fair,

55

And sunken into dust.

"But who along yon cypress path

Is led so heavily?

25

Ah, me! my Allen dear, it is-—

60

How sad she eyeth thee !

"And, ah! how sad yon virgins look

Who lead her to my bower? Appear they not as dropping dews

Fresh'ning some faded flower.

[blocks in formation]

"Could you, such vows as I have vow'd,

[blocks in formation]

85

And Edwin wears it now.

"When love ye breathe, ye fickle men,

Be smooth as summer-wave; But when with jealousy ye swell,

As winter-storm ye rave.

"Rash man! ah, how by jealousy

Have you your fortune cross'd!

90

As true a maid as ever loved

You have for ever lost.

"To hie to this your friend's abode,

Here breathe my prayers for ye,

THE BITTER FRUITS OF JEALOUSY.

For life, for health, for ease of mind,

Was all was left for me."

"Can you not pardon the high fault
Which love did cause me do?"
"Yes, I can pardon all the fault,

And still to love be true."

"And shall the bridal knot be tied,

[blocks in formation]

And shall we happy be?"

"The bridal-knot can ne'er be tied,

Nor can I stay with thee;

"For I to Christ a vow have made,

105

And kept that vow shall be,

That man no more shall vex my heart,
No more shall trouble me.

"That straight I will myself betake

Unto a nunnery,

In fast and prayer to end my days,

And kept that vow shall be.

"Nay, do not wend you quite away,

List, list, my piercing call!

Return! and for your broken vow,

On me the pain be all !"

"She's gone."-He heav'd a deep-drawn sigh,

As burst his heart in twain,

Then to the ground fast-falled he,

And never rose again.

[ocr errors]

115

120

Old Ballad.

ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S

PICTURE.

O THAT those lips had language! Life has pass'd With me but roughly since I heard thee last.

66

1 The author, Cowper, lost his mother when he was six years old. He, however, retained a clear recollection of her care and tenderness, for, nearly fifty years after her death, he says: Not a day passes in which I do not think of her; such was the impression her tenderness made upon me."

Those lips are thine-thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, "Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!" The meek intelligence of those dear eyes (Blest be the art that can immortalize, The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim

5

To quench it!) here shines on me still the same. 10
Faithful remembrancer of one so dear,

O welcome guest, though unexpected here!
Who bidst me honour with an artless song,
Affectionate, a mother lost so long,

I will obey, not willingly alone,

But gladly, as the precept were her own;
And, while that face renews my filial grief,
Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief,
Shall steep me in Elysian reverie,

A momentary dream that thou art she.

15

20

My mother! when I learn'd that thou wast dead, Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed?

Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son,
Wretch even then, life's journey just begun?
Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss; 25
Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss-
Ah, that maternal smile !—it answers-Yes.
I heard the bell toll'd on thy burial day,
I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away,
And, turning from my nursery window, drew
A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu !
But was it such ?—It was.-Where thou art gone
Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.

30

May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore,

The parting word shall pass my lips no more!

35

Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my concern,

Oft gave me promise of thy quick return.
What ardently I wish'd, I long believed,
And disappointed still, was still deceived;

By expectation every day beguiled,
Dupe of to-morrow even from a child.

40

« PreviousContinue »