Yes, Genius, yes! thy mimic aid No spectre forms of pleasure fled, Thy softening, sweetening, tints restore; For thou canst give us back the dead, E'en in the loveliest looks they wore. Then blest be Nature's guardian Muse, Whose hand her perished grace redeems! Whose tablet of a thousand hues The mirror of creation seems. From Love began thy high descent; And call thee brightest of the Nine! THE MAID'S REMONSTRANCE. NEVER wedding, ever wooing, Still a love-lorn heart pursuing, Read you not the wrong you're doing In my cheek's pale hue? All my life with sorrow strewing, Wed, or cease to woo. Rivals banished, bosoms plighted, Charms you call your dearest blessing, ABSENCE. "Tis not the loss of love's assurance, The fondest thoughts two hearts can cherish, What though, untouched by jealous madness, Absence! is not the soul torn by it From more than light, or life, or breath? 'Tis Lethe's gloom, but not its quiet,The pain without the peace of death! LINES INSCRIBED ON THE MONUMENT LATELY FINISHED BY MR. CHANTREY, Which has been erected by the Widow of Admiral Sir G. Campbell, K. C. B., to the memory of her Husband. To him, whose loyal, brave, and gentle heart, To paint the traits that drew affection strong STANZAS. ON THE BATTLE OF NAVARINO. HEARTS of oak that have bravely delivered the brave, For the guerdon ye sought with your bloodshed and toil, Was it slaves, or dominion, or rapine, or spoil? No! your lofty emprise was to fetter and foil The uprooter of Greece's domain ! When he tore the last remnant of food from her soil, Till her famished sank pale as the slain! Yet, Navarin's heroes! does Christendom breed The base hearts that will question the fame of your deed? Are they men?-let ineffable scorn be their meed, And oblivion shadow their graves ! Are they women?-to Turkish serails let them speed; Abettors of massacre! dare ye deplore That the death-shriek is silenced on Hellas's shore? And that stretched on yon billows distained by their gore Prouder scene never hallowed war's pomp to the mind, Than when Christendom's pennons wooed social the wind, And the flower of her brave for the combat combined, Their watch-word, humanity's vow: Not a sea-boy that fought in that cause, but mankind Nor grudge, by our side, that to conquer or fall, That star of thy day-spring, regenerate Greek! LINES ON REVISITING A SCOTTISH RIVER. AND call they this Improvement?-to have changed, Whose banks, that sweetened May-day's breath before, With sooty exhalations covered o'er; And for the daisied green sward, down thy stream Unsightly brick-lanes smoke, and clanking engines gleam. |