Then let us seize the present hour,
While beauty reigns in all its pow'r;
And I, still warm in ardent youth,
Breathe in this kiss my plighted truth:
Let us the precious time improve
In all the various sweets of love.
Then as my arms I fondly twine
Around that heavenly neck of thine,
I'll clasp thee to my faithful breast,
With Hymen's chaste endearments blest;
Bid every other wish adieu;
And only live for love and you!
SONNET ON THE SPRING.
How have I lov'd to woo thee, gentle Spring!
At early dawn to mark each opening flower,
Thy beauteous offspring! deck my smiling bower;
And hear thy birds their earliest love-notes sing.
Thou art return'd; but with thee, soothing rest,
That sunshine of the soul, returns no more!
My halcyon days of calm content are o'er,
And wound me with the thought, I once was blest.
Thou art the same-earth's lap as soft a green;
Fragrance, and strains as sweet, my bow'r supplies;
But I am chang'd, amid the' unalter'd scene,
And view Heaven's fairest gifts with streaming eyes:
The charm, that once to love and rapture led,
With DELIA flourish'd, and with DELIA fled.
FROM STEEL'S COLLECTION.
GENTLE air, thou breath of Lovers!
Vapour from a secret fire
Which by thee itself discovers,
Ere yet daring to aspire :
Softest notes of whisper'd anguish,
Harmony's refined part,
Striking, while thou seem'st to languish,
Full upon the listener's heart;
Safest messenger of passion,
Stealing through a crowd of spies
Who constrain the outward fashion,
Close the lips, and watch the eyes;
Shapeless Sigh! we ne'er can show thee,
Fram'd but to assault the ear:
Yet, ere to their cost they know thee,
Every nymph may read thee-Here,
No more, severely kind, affect
To put that lovely anger on;
Sweet Tyrant! if thou canst suspect
Thy Lover's eyes, yet trust thy own.
Aw'd by stern Honour's watchful spies,
Dull formal rules I'm forc'd to' obey;
Like dungeon-slaves, my hasty eyes
Just snatch a glimpse of cheerful day.
Absent, the desart walks I view ;
Here went Eliza, there she came :
With tears my lonely couch bedew,
And, dreaming, sigh Eliza's name.
"Where is his soul," the women cry,
"The stupid lump! the lifeless earth!"
"Where," say the men, "his brisk reply,
His crimson glass, and noisy mirth!”
Hast thou not mark'd my burning kiss,
My lawless pulse, my bounding heart?
How oft when, wild for farther bliss,
All trembling from thy arms I start?
Ah, spotless Fair! too well I find
My passions strong, my reason frail :
Ah! can I stain that angel mind;
And, Virtue lost, let Love prevail?
No! down in shades below we'll rove,
A glorious miserable pair,
Gaz'd at through all the myrtle grove
For burning love and chaște despair!
Say, if thou lov'st, did ever youth,
That wish'd like me, like me endure? Dost thou not blame this swainish truth, And wish my flame were not so pure?
In pity hate me, tempting Fair!
An happy exile let me fly :
What feverish wretch his thirst can bear,
That sees the cooling stream so nigh!
Oh! I shall all my vows unsay,
If once I gaze-my blood will glow; This virtuous frost will melt away, And Love's wild torment overflow.
FROM THE FLOWER-PIECE.
ADAM from Paradise exil'd,
His heart with anguish torn,
Rov'd sorrowing o'er the dreary wild,
Abandon'd and forlorn.
So I, excluded from my Dear,
To woods despairing go;
Like his, my punishment severe;
Nor less my weight of woe.
This renders my affliction more,
Though less perhaps my sin,
An Angel drove him from the door,
An Angel tempts me in!
Our crimes, since thus our sufferings suit,
More parallel should lie :
He tasted the Forbidden Fruit,
Alas!-why should not I?
FROM THE POETICAL MAGAZINE.
PHILOSOPHERS pretend to tell,
How, like a hermit in his cell,
The soul within the brain does dwell:
But I, who am not half so wise,
Think I have seen't in Chloe's eyes;
Down to her lips, from thence, it stole,
And there I kiss'd her very soul !
BY A LADY, ON OBSERVING SOME WHITE HAIRS
UPON THE HEAD OF HER HUSBAND.
THOU to whose power reluctantly we bend,
Foe to life's fairy dreams, relentless Time,
Alike the dread of lover and of friend,
Why stamp thy seal on manhood's rosy prime?
Already twining 'mid my Thyrsis' hair,
The snowy wreaths of age, the monuments of care.
Through all her forms, though Nature own thy sway,
That boasted sway thoul't here exert in vain ;
To the last beam of life's declining day,
Thyrsis shall view, unmov'd, thy potent reign. Secure to please, whilst goodness knows to charm, Fancy and taste delight, or sense and truth inform.
Tyrant! when from that lip of crimson glow,
Swept by thy chilling wing, the rose shall fly;
When thy rude scythe indents his polish'd brow,
And quench'd is all the lustre of his eye;
When ruthless age disperses every grace,
Each smile that beams from that enchanting face-
Then through her stores shall active Memory rove,
Teaching each various charm to bloom anew,
And still the raptur'd eye of faithful Love
Shall bend on Thyrsis its delighted view;
Still shall he triumph with resistless pow'r,
Still rule the conquer'd heart to life's remotest hour!
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