Heed not that gloom, which soon shall sink : ADDRESS, SPOKEN AT THE OPENING OF DRURY-LANE THEATRE, In one dread night our city saw, and sigh'd, Ye who beheld, (oh! sight admired and mourn'd Yes-it shall be-the magic of that name Defies the scythe of time, the torch of flame; On the same spot still consecrates the scene, And bids the Drama be where she hath been. This fabric's birth attest the potent spellIndulge our honest pride, and say, How well! As soars this fane to emulate the last, Oh! might we draw our omens from the past, Some hour propitious to our prayers may boast Names such as hallow still the dome we lost. On Drury first your Siddons' thrilling art O'erwhelm'd the gentlest, storm'd the sternest heart. On Drury, Garrick's latest laurels grew; Here your last tears retiring Roscius drew Sigh'd his last thanks, and wept his last adieu: But still for living wit the wreaths may bloom That only waste their odours o'er the toms. Such Drury claim'd and claims-nor you refuse One tribute to revive his slumbering muse; With garlands deck your own Menander's head! Nor hoard your honours idly for the dead! Dear are the days which made our annals bright, Ere Garrick fled, or Brinsley ceased to write. Heirs to their labours, like all high-born heirs, Vain of our ancestry, as they of theirs; While thus Remembrance borrows Banquo's glass To claim the sceptred shadows as they pass, And we the mirror hold, where imaged shine Immortal names, emblazoned on our line, Pause-ere their feebler offspring you condemn, Reflect how hard the task to rival them! Friends of the stage! to whom both Players and Plays And made us blush that you forbore to blame; All past reproach may present scenes refute, 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 For now I bear the weight alone. I would not one fond heart should share Retards, but never counts the hour. Would soon subside from swift to slow: Thy cloud could overcast the light, But could not add a night to wo For then, however drear and dark, My soul was suited to thy sky; One star alone shot forth a spark To prove thee-not Eternity. That beam hath sunk, and now thou art A blank; a thing to count and curse Through each dull tedious trifling part, Which all regret, yet all rehearse. One scene even thou canst not deform; The limit of thy sloth or speed 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 The pang, the agony, the doubt, Which rends my heart with ceaseless sigh 2. Without one friend to hear my wo, I faint, I die beneath the blow. 3. Birds, yet in freedom, shun the net, Which Love around your haunts hath se; Or circled by his fatal file, Your hearts shall burn, your hopes expire. 4. A bird of free and careless wing I burn, and feebly flutter there. 5. Who ne'er have loved, and loved in vain, The cold repulse, the look askance, 6. In flattering dreams I deem'd thee mine; 7. My light of life! ah, tell me why And art thou changed, and canst thou hate? 8. Mine eyes like wintry streams o'erflow: 9. My curdling blood, my madd'ning brain, In silent anguish I sustain; And still thy heart, without partaking Pour me the poison; fear not thou! 11. My wounded soul, my bleeding breast, ▲ SONG. 1. Thou art not false, but thou art fickle, "T is this which breaks the heart thou grievest, Too well thou lov'st-too soon thou leavest. 2. The wholly false the heart despises, Whose love is as sincere as sweet,- To dream of joy and wake to sorrow, 4. What must they feel whom no false vision, But truest, tenderest passion warm'd? Sincere, but swift in sad transition, As if a dream alone had charm'd? Ah! sure such grief is fancy's scheming, And all thy change can be but dreaming! ON BEING ASKED WHAT WAS THE "ORIGIN OF LOVE?" The "Origin of Love!"-Ah, why That cruel question ask of me, When thou may'st read in many an eye He starts to life on seeing thee? And should'st thou seek his end to know: But live-until I cease to be. REMEMBER HIM, &c. 1. Remember him, whom passion's power When neither fell, though both were loved. That yielding breast, that melting eye, Oh! let me feel that all I lost But saved thee all that conscience fears And blush for every pang it cost To spare the vain remorse of years. Yet think of this when many a tongue, Whose busy accents whisper blame, Would do the heart that loved thee wrong, And brand a nearly blighted name. 5. Think that, whate'er to others, thou Oh, God! that we had met in time, Far may thy days, as heretofore, This heart, alas! perverted long, Itself destroy'd might there destroy; To meet thee in the glittering throng, Would wake Presumption's hope of joy. 9. Then to the things whose bliss or wo, Thy youth, thy charms, thy tenderness, Oh! pardon that imploring tear, 12. Though long and mournful must be, And almost deem the sentence sweet. 13. Still, had I loved thee less, my heart Had then less sacrificed to thine; It felt not half so much to part, As if its guilt had made thee mine. LINES. INSCRIBED UPON A CUP FORMED FROM A SKULL. 1. Start not-nor deem iny spirit fled: In me behold the only skull, From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never duil. 2. I lived, I loved, I quaff'd, like thee; The worm hath fouler lips than thine. Better to hold the sparkling grape, Than nurse the earth-worm's slimy brood; And circle in the goblet's shape The drink of Gods, than reptile's food. 4. Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone, 5. Quaff while thou canst-another race, When thou and thine like me are sped, May rescue thee from earth's embrace, And rhyme and revel with the dead. 6. Why not? since through life's little day Our heads such sad effects produce; Redeem'd from worms and wasting clay, This chance is theirs, to be of use. Newstead Abbey, 1808. ON THE DEATH OF SIR PETER PARKER, BART. 1. There is a tear for all that die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave; But nations swell the funeral cry, And Triumph weeps above the brave. 2. For them is Sorrow's purest sigh All earth becomes their monument! A tomb is theirs on every page, For them the voice of festal mirth Grows hush'd, their name the only sound; While deep Remembrance pours to Worth The goblet's tributary round. 5. A theme to crowds that knew them not, And, gallant Parker! thus enshrined A model in thy memory. 7. But there are breasts that bleed with chee In wo, that glory cannot quell And shuddering hear of victory, Where one so dear, so dauntless, fell. 8. Where shall they turn to mourn thee less? When cease to hear thy cherish'd name? Time cannot teach forgetfulness, While Grief's full heart is fed by Fame. 9. Alas! for them, though not for thee, They cannot choose but weep the more Deep for the dead the grief must be, Who ne'er gave cause to mourn before. FROM THE TURKISH. The chain I gave was fair to view, These gifts were charm'd by secret spel! That chain was firm in every link, Let him, who from thy neck unbound The chain which shiver'd in his grasp, Who saw that lute refuse to sound, Restring the chords, renew the clasp. 5. When thou wert changed, they alter'd too, SONNET. TO GENEVRA. Thine eyes' blue tenderness, thy long fair hair, That-but I know thy blessed bosom fraught When from his beauty-breathing pencil born, Except that thou hast nothing to repent,) The Magdalen of Guido saw the mornSuch seem'st thou-but how much more excellent! With naught Remorse can claim-nor Virtue scorn. SONNET. TO GENEVRA. Thy cheek is pale with thought, but not from wo, While gazing on them sterner eyes will gush, At once such majesty with sweetness blending, I worship more, but cannot love thee less. INSCRIPTION ON THE MONUMENT OF A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG. "NRAR THIS SPOT ARE DEPOSITED THE REMAINS OF ONE STRENGTH WITHOUT INSOLENCE, AND ALL THE VIRTUES OF MAN WITHOUT HIS VICES. THIS PRAISE, WHICH WOULD BE UNMEANING FLATTERY IP INSCRIBED OVER HUMAN ASHES, 18 BUT A JUST TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF WHO WAS BORN AT NEWFOUNDLAND, MAY 1803, When some proud son of man returns to earth, Not what he was, but what he should have been: Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, By nature vile, ennobled but by name, Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame To mark a friend's remains these stones arise; Newstead Abbey, Oct. 30, 180 FAREWELL. Farewell! if ever fondest prayer But waft thy name beyond the sky. Oh! more than tears of blood can tell, When wrung from guilt's expiring eye, Are in that word-Farewell!-Farewell These lips are mute, these eyes are dry; But in my breast, and in my brain, Awake the pangs that pass not by, The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. My soul nor deigns nor dares complain, Though grief and passion there rebel; I only know we loved in vain I only feel-Farewell!-Farewell! 1. Bright be the place of thy soul! In the orbs of the blessed to shine. As thy soul shall immortally be; And our sorrow may cease to repine, When we know that thy God is with thee 2. Light be the turf of thy tomb! May its verdure like emeralds be: There should not be the shadow of gloom, In aught that reminds us of thee. Young flowers and an evergreen tree May spring from the spot of thy rest But nor cypress nor yew let us see; For why should we mourn for the biest? 1. When we two parted To sever for years, 2. The dew of the morning Of what I feel now. I hear thy name spoken, Who knew thee too wellLong, ong shall I rue thee, Too deeply to tell. But never either found another Fare thee well! and if for ever, 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Love may sink by slow decay, Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; Though his care she must forego? Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee, Those thou never more may'st see, |