Imatges de pàgina
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Thy blossom spread, my tender flower,

Where kings of old did dwell ;

Where fame and beauty, arm'd with power, Held forth their magic-spell ;

Where all, but angels, held their mirth;— Where mail-clad warriors trod ;

Whose stately forms have sunk to earth ;Whose souls have soar'd to God!

I gaze on thee, but while I gaze,
No common thoughts are mine!
For, oh! thou speak'st of early days;
Of love and fame, and wine ;-
Of courtly halls and belted knights ;—
Of minstrelsy and song;-

Of strange costumes, and gladdening sights,
That cheer'd each ancient throng!

Of wither'd hearts-the lot at last

Of noblest human kind!

For death lays all among the past,

Whate'er their birth or mind ;

All these are rushing through my brain,
In mingling, strange delight,

And other thoughts rise in their train, Too exquisite to write!

I cannot keep thee-gentle flower!
Ye grieve me while ye charm,
That death with his athletic power
Can chill each breast so warm,

And as ye also felt my grief,
Ye fade and fall away;

O life is like thy lonely leaf,-
A sunbeam's fleeting ray!

TO JAMES HARRIS, Esq. Dublin.

ON THE DEATH OF HIS SON GEORGE, A VERY AMIABLE AND

TALENTED YOUTH.

No pen can paint a father's grief;—
When one he loves is taken away;
None give his pensive breast relief,
Nor make his wounded spirit gay!
may not weep like woman fair,—
Blest with the melting heart of tears;

He

But, ah! he feels a mute despair,

That cannot be removed by years!

TO JAMES HARRIS, ESQ., ETC.

If lingering sickness crush'd his child;
If, night by night, he watch'd his woe,
And saw upon his face so mild,

The hectic spot of sorrow grow:-
If day by day his strength decayed,

His pallid lips breathed more of heaven ; To see so young a heart dismay'd,

Must oft the father's breast have riven!

There may be those who cannot feel
The anguish of a youthful sigh;—
Whose worldly breasts alone conceal,

The treasures worshipp'd by the eye!
These mark the pangs of those most dear,
Without reflection in their soul;-

Without one sympathetic tear

Which nobler breasts in vain controul!

But he of whom I fain would speak
In language that befits his mind.—
Could he behold an offspring sick,

And not be more sincerely kind?
The manly heart is soonest moved, —

The sprightly eye grows soonest dim,

225

226

TO JAMES HARRIS, ESQ., ETC.

And when a dying child is loved,

Oft will the parent pray for him!

And well might he be touch'd with grief;
The object craved his saddest sigh;
Though this could not bestow relief,-
Who can to worth a tear deny!
Ingenuous, though of tender years;

With gratitude his heart did flow.-
What soul would not dissolve in tears,

Since cruel death has laid him low!

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