Oh! since your fiat stamps the Drama's laws, This greeting o'er, the ancient rule obey'd, The Drama's homage by her herald paid, Receive our welcome too, whose every tone Springs from our hearts, and fain would win your own. The curtain rises-may our stage unfold Scenes not unworthy Drury's days of old! Britons our judges, Nature for our guide, Still may we please-long, long may you preside! TO TIME. TIME! on whose arbitrary wing The varying hours must flag or fly, Whose tardy winter, fleeting spring, But drag or drive us on to die Hail thou! who on my birth bestow'd Yet better I sustain thy load, For now I bear the weight alone. I would not one fond heart should share The bitter moments thou hast given; And pardon thee, since thou could'st spare All that I loved, to peace or heaven. To them be joy or rest, on me Thy future ills shall press in vain; I nothing owe but years to thee, Yet even that pain was some relief; Retards, but never counts the hour. VOL. IV. S In joy I've sigh'd to think thy flight Would soon subside from swift to slow; Thy cloud could overcast the light, But could not add a night to woe; For then, however drear and dark, My soul was suited to thy sky; That beam hath sunk, and now thou art When future wanderers bear the storm Which we shall sleep too sound to heed: And I can smile to think how weak Thine efforts shortly shall be shown, When all the vengeance thou canst wreak Must fall upon-a nameless stone. TRANSLATION OF A ROMAIC LOVE SONG. 1. AH! Love was never yet without Which rends my heart with ceaseless sigh, While day and night roll darkling by. 2. Without one friend to hear my woe, That Love had arrows, well I knew ; Alas! I find them poison'd too. 3. Birds, yet in freedom, shun the net, Which Love around your haunts hath set; Or circled by his fatal fire, Your hearts shall burn, your hopes expire. 4. A bird of free and careless wing Was I, through many a smiling spring; I burn, and feebly flutter there. 5. Who ne'er have loved, and loved in vain, Can neither feel nor pity pain, The cold repulse, the look askance, The lightning of Love's angry glance. 6. In flattering dreams I deem'd thee mine; 7. My light of life! ah, tell me why My bird of love! my beauteous mate! And art thou changed, and canst thou hate? |