Sing, lovely Girl! to hear Thee sing
Hush'd is the listening air;
My spirit trembles on the wing,
And no delay can bear.
Those down-cast eyes, that smile supprest,
Thy conscious power betray;
Yet, Siren! grant the bold request;
Come, steal my heart away.
See, see, those ruby lips divide;
An ivory shrine appears;
There Harmony and Love reside,
To ravish mortal ears.
And hark! they from that sweet recess
Breathe their celestial lays;
The enchanting sounds my thought possess
With rapture and amaze.
Still pressing on with strong control
I feel the lavish strain,
Till drunk with bliss, my wilder'd soul
Reels on the brink of pain.
Ah! how could I so rashly dare
Contend with Powers divine?
The pride of victory forbear;
My heart is wholly thine.
ON SEEING MADEMOISELLE ***
DANCE AT THE OPERA IN PARIS.
What fine aerial Shape,
In orient colours dight,
Springs from the world unknown
Upon my wondering sight?
Loosely through various space
The lovely Figure flows,
And leaves the sleeping air
Unconscious as it goes.
Hark! a spontaneous strain
Its fairy gait attends;
In concord every sound
With every movement blends.
Lo, now! the passive Form
Moves as the music leads;
Each motion from each note,
Harmoniously proceeds.
By the same sense, methinks,
At once I hear and see;
And ears and eyes and mind
Are all one harmony.
Along my shivering nerves
The mingled raptures thrill,
And strangely take my soul,
And rule it as they will;
True to the magic force,
That shifts a thousand ways,
An echo, and a shade,
It answers and obeys.
But ah! the charm expires.--
Did Fancy thus deceive?
She smiles, and fondly vain,
Would have me so believe.
SONNET,
ON TAKING A FAVOURITE WALK,
AFTER RECOVERY FROM SICKNESS.
Ye scenes beloved! O welcome once again!
Forbidden long to my desiring sight,
Now, now! triumphant o'er disease and pain,
I visit ye with fresh, increased delight.
Vine-mantled Hills, whose heights I joy'd to climb,
The Morn's sweet infant breathings to inhale;
River! whose banks I roved in trance sublime,
While fancy-whispering Eve spread soft her veil;
And thou, O Wood, in whose moon-checkered shade
The nightly songstress oft has charm'd my ear
Till Morning told me I so long had stay'd:
Hail all ye objects to my memory dear!
Once more, to feel the transports ye impart,
Health wakes my every sense and tunes my heart.
SONNET,
WRITTEN ON MY BIRTH DAY.
Again has Time his annual circle run,
And April ushers in my natal day:
Since first my infant eyes beheld the sun,
How many a year has swiftly roll'd away!
Full half my thread of life the Fates have spun;
What various colours does the web display!
Some dark, some brighter; ere the work be done
The sadder hues will overshade the gay.
Yet not to Melancholy will I yield;
Against Despondency and Discontent
Still Fortitude and Hope shall keep the field;
Swerving from thee, O Virtue! I repent;
Now! to repel Temptation I am steel'd;
To follow thee I'm resolutely bent.