And who that dear loved one may be And why that early love was cross'd, I've tried another's fetters too, "Twould soothe to take one lingering view, LORD BYRON. ELEGY. TO LAURA. YET once again, in yonder myrtle bowers, [fume, Shall she, benignant, to the wandering eyes Shall these possess her bright, her fragrant store, For she shall come; with her each sister-grace, And hang with flowers each consecrated tree. Blithe Fancy too shall spread her glittering plumes, She loves the white cliffs of Britannia's isle, She loves the spot where infant Genius blooms, She loves the spot where Peace and Freedom smile. Unless her aid the mimic queen bestow, In vain fresh garlands the low vales adorn: Opes not one blossom to the spicy gale, [wide, But thither, with the morning's earliest ray, And catch the fairest beams of orient light. Proud of the theft she mounts her lucid car, Her car the rainbow's painted arch supplies; Her swift-wing'd steeds unnumber'd loves prepare, And countless zephyrs waft her through the skies. There, while her bright wheels pause in cloudless air, She waves the magic sceptre of command, Here, proudly nodding o'er the vale below, And tinge the trickling herbage on their way. Through all the year, in copse and tangled dale, Illusive visions! O, not here,-not here, Does spring eternal hold her placid reign, Already Boreas chills the altering year, And blasts the purple daughters of the plain. So fade my promised joys!-fair scenes of bliss, Ideal scenes, too long believed in vain, Plunged down and swallow'd deep in Time's abyss! So veering Chance and ruthless Fates ordain. Thee, Laura, thee, by fount or mazy stream, Or thicket rude, unpress'd by human feet, I sigh, unheeded, to the moon's pale beam; Thee, Laura, thee the echoing hills repeat. Oh! long of billows wild and winds the sport, When panting, gasping, breathless on the strand [sea; Shall every wintry storm be hush'd for thee? Not so! I dread the elemental war, Too soon, too soon the calm, deceitful, flies; I hear the blast come whistling from afar, I see the tempest gathering in the skies. Yet let the tempest roar!-love scorns all harms, I plunge amid the storm, resolved to save; This hour, at least, I clasp thee in my arms, The next let ruin join us in the grave. DAY. ELEGY. FLY, gentle steeds! o'er yon unfriendly towers VOL. IV. C Groves! where at noon the sleeping beauty lies; Lawns! where at eve her grateful footsteps rove; For ye full oft have heard my secret sighs, And caught, unseen, the tear of hopeless love; Farewell! a long farewell-your shades among No more these eyes shall drink Eliza's charms; No more these ears the music of her tongue!— O! doom'd for ever to another's arms! Fly, gentle steeds! my bleeding heart convey Where brighter scenes and milder planets shine; Where Joy's white pinion glitters in the ray, And Love sits smiling on his crystal shrine! DARWIN. TO A TUFT OF EARLY VIOLETS. SWEET flowers! that from your humble beds Are not the genial brood of May; Stern Winter's reign is not yet pass'd— And nips your roots and lays you low Alas, for such ungentle doom! But I will shield you, and supply A kindlier soil on which to bloom, A nobler bed on which to die. |