LOR

UNIVERSITY
OF
ORFORD

ERAHY

I.

WHEN the first beams of morn illume the sky,

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To-day I see her," and I hail the sun;

"To-day I see her,” and the moments run,
And Life, and Time, and all unheeded fly.
O how I grasp delusions! form again

The frantic hopes, my firmer mind denies!
I see but her, in earth, in air and skies;

I feel but her in all my burning brain.
Then, as I think upon the woes to come,

Bereav'd of comfort, how I hate the day!

Tears, from a heart of anguish, force their way,

And oft I wish to make the grave my home;

To drink the bitter cup, while yet I may,

Before my strength is gone, and all my powers decay.

II.

Is this sad heart, so cold and vacant, mine?

Enchanting scenes! I know you now no more!

The soft stream winds beneath th' o'erhanging pine;
Ye shine in summer pride-but mine is o'er.
O could I place my woes in low'ring skies,
In dismal seasons, or capricious care,

In the wild whirl Ambition's strife supplies,

My tighten'd heart might breathe in freer air. Wretch that I am! this bosom, once so blest,

Contains the poison, which consumes its peace;

In vain I stretch my arms, and seek for rest;

Dark clouds surround, forbidding all release. Yes! I must fill the measure of my woes,

And then I find the road that leads me to repose.

III.

WHERE is that sentiment which warm'd my breast,

Which pour'd around me torrents of delight,

Which brought all paradise before my sight,

And wrapt my soul in visions of the blest!
How often has the wand'ring sea-bird's flight
Across the vast immeasurable deep,

Borne my free spirit in its rapid sweep,

Thro' living waters, and immortal light,

To taste beatitude where raptures flow!

Oh! how this heart is chang'd!-For blissful dreams

Of life eternal, dim before me gleams

The deep and fathomless abyss of woe,

Where, hurried headlong thro' the black'ning wave,

Or dash'd upon the rocks, I soon must find my grave.

IV.

АH! not on me she turn'd her wand'ring eyes!
On me who saw but her, but her alone;
Yet still I thought! Alas! my soul relies

On airy phantoms, when its peace is gone.
Yes! I would go! could this devoted breast
Give back her image?-but in vain I rave:
For ever present, on my brain impress'd,

Her eye's dark lustre lights me to the grave! Thus the dread loadstone, on the torrid steep, Rocks the tall vessel on her straining keel,

Draws from the oozing seams the central steel; The masts' torn fragments drifting on the deep : Yes! one must perish! Charlotte! be it mine To give my life, and purchase peace to thine!