Page images
PDF
EPUB

My look shall gaze around me free,
And like my look my line shall be;
While fancy leaps in every vein,
While love is life, and thought is pain,
I will not rule that look and line
By any word or will of thine.

The Moon hath risen! Still and pale
Thou movest in thy silver veil,
Queen of the night! the filmy shroud
Of many a mild, transparent cloud
Hides, yet adorns thee;-meet disguise
To shield thy blush from mortal eyes.
Full many a maid hath loved to gaze
Upon thy melancholy rays;

And many a fond, despairing youth
Hath breathed to thee his tale of truth;
And many a luckless rhyming wight
Hath looked upon thy tender light,
And spilt his precious ink upon it,
In Ode, or Elegy, or Sonnet.
Alas! at this inspiring hour
I feel not, I, thy boasted power!
Nor seek to gain thine approbation
By vow, or prayer, or invocation;
I ask not what the vapours are,
That veil thee like a white cymar;
Nor do I care a single straw
For all the stars I ever saw !

I fly from thee, I fly from these,
To bow to earthly Goddesses,
Whose forms in mortal beauty shine
As fair, but not so cold, as thine.

But this is foolish!

Stars and Moon,

You look quite beautiful in June;
But, when a Bard sits down to sing,
Your beauty is a dangerous thing;
To muse upon your placid beam,
One wanders sadly from one's theme;
And when weak Poets go astray,
The stars are more in fault than they.
The Moon is charming! so, perhaps,
Are pretty maidens in mob-caps;
But, when a Ball is in the case,
They're both a little out of place.

I love a Ball! there's such an air Of magic in the lustre's glare, And such a spell of witchery In all I hear, and all I see, That I can read in every dance Some relic sweet of old romance; As Fancy wills, I laugh and smile, And talk such nonsense all the while, That when Dame Reason rules again, And morning cools my heated brain, Reality itself doth seem

Naught but the pageant of a dream;
In raptures deep I gaze, as now,
On smiling lip, and tranquil brow,
While merry voices echo round,
And music's most inviting sound
Swells on mine ear; the glances fly,
And love and folly flutter high,
And many a fair, romantic cheek,
Reddened with pleasure or with pique,
Glows with a sentimental flush,
That seems a bright, unfading blush;
And slender arms before my face
Are rounded with a Statue's grace:
And ringlets wave, and beauteous feet,
Swifter than lightning, part and meet;
Frowns come and go; white hands are
pressed;

And sighs are heard, and secrets guessed,
And looks are kind, and eyes are bright,

And tongues are free, and hearts are light. Sometimes upon the crowd I look,

Secure in some sequestered nook,

And while from thence I look and listen,
Though ladies' eyes so gayly glisten,

Though ladies' locks so lightly float,
Though Music pours her mellowed note,
Some little spite will oft intrude

Upon my merry solitude.

By turns the ever-varying scene
Awakes within me mirth and spleen;
By turns the gay and vain appear,-
By turns I love to smile and sneer,
Mixing my malice with my glee,
Good-humour with misanthropy;
And while my raptured eyes adore
Half the bright forms that flit before,
I notice with a little laugh

The follies of the other half.

That little laugh will oft call down,
From matron sage, rebuke and frown;
Little, in truth, for these I care,
By Momus and his mirth I swear!
For all the dishes Rowley tastes,
For all the paper Courtenay wastes,
For all the punch his subjects quaff,
I would not change that little laugh.*

Shall I not laugh, when every fool Comes hither for my ridicule; When every face, that flits to-night In long review before my sight, Shows off, unask'd, its airs and graces, Unconscious of the mirth it raises?

[blocks in formation]

Hoc ridere meum, tam nil, nulla tibi vendo
Iliade.

Pers.

Skilled to deceive our ears and eyes By civil looks and civil lies,

Skilled from the search of men to hide
His narrow bosom's inward pride,
And charm the blockheads he beguiles
By uniformity of smiles,

The County Member, bright Sir Paul,
Is Primo Buffo at the Ball.

Since first he longed to represent
His fellow-men in Parliament,
Courted the cobblers and their spouses,
And sought his honours in mud-houses,
Full thirty Springs have come and fled;
And though from off his shining head
The twin destroyers, Time and Care,
Begin to pluck its fading hair,

Yet where it grew, and where it grows,
Lie powder's never-varying snows,
And hide the havoc years have made,
In kind monotony of shade.

Sir Paul is young in all but years,
And when his courteous face appears,
The maiden wall-flowers of the room
Admire the freshness of his bloom,
Hint that his face has made him vain,
And vow "he grows a boy again;"
And giddy girls of gay fifteen
Mimic his manner and his mien,

« PreviousContinue »