Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 4
3.
Oh! could that king of terrors pity feel,
Or Heaven reverse the dread decree of fate,
Not here the mourner would his grief reveal,
Not here the muse her virtues would relate.
4.
But wherefore weep! her matchless spirit soars,
Beyond where aplendid shines the orb of day.
And weeping angels lead her to those bowers,
Where endless pleasures virtuous deeds repay.
5.
And shall presumptuous mortals Heaven arraign!
And madly God-like Providence accuse!
Ah! no far fly from me attempts so vain,
I'll ne'er submission to my God refuse.
6.
Yet is remembrance of those virtues dear,
Yet fresh the memory of that beauteous face;
Still they call forth my warm affection's tear.
Such sorrow brings me honour, not disgrace.[4]
1802.
[Footnote 4: The Author claims the indulgence of the reader, more for
this piece, than, perhaps, any other in the collection; but as it was
written at an earlier period than the rest, (being composed at the
age of 14) and his first Essay, be preferred submitting it to the
indulgence of his friends in its present state, to making either
addition or alteration.]
* * * * *
TO D. ----
In thee, I fondly hop'd to clasp,
A friend whom death alone could sever,
But envy with malignant grasp,
Has torn thee from my breast for ever.
2.
True, she has forc'd thee from my _breast_,
But in my _heart_ thou keep'st thy seat;
There, there, thine image still must rest,
Until that heart shall cease to beat.
3.
And when the grave restores her dead,
When life again to dust is given,
On _thy dear_ breast I'll lay my head,
Without _thee_! _where_ would be _my Heaven?_
_February_, 1803.
* * * * *
TO ----
Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes,
Suffus'd in tears implore to stay;
And heard _unmov'd_, thy plenteous sighs,
Which said far more than words could say.
Though deep the grief, _thy_ tears exprest,
When love, and hope, lay _both_ o'erthrown,
Yet still, my girl, _this_ bleeding breast,
Throbb'd with deep sorrow, as _thine own_.
But when our cheeks with anguish glow'd,
When _thy_ sweet lips where join'd to mine;
The tears that from _my_ eye-lids flow'd,
Were lost in those which fell from _thine_.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|