"And now beneath the noontide beam,

66

Again I watch the passing stream;
"So passes love, I well may cry—
"In vain for Lucy's gift I sigh."

Cease hapless youth! nor let thy tongue
On Lucy's faith this charge prolong:
Nor thoughtless, nor unkind, the maid
That has so long her gift delay'd.

Who ever shall the truth impart ?
Or tell thy fond, thy breaking heart,
That cold and lifeless is the maid
That has so long her gift delay'd.

THE DREAM.

To MRS.

IN A DANGEROUS ILLNESS.

DREAD Dream! that hovering in the midnight air,

Clasp'd with thy dusky wings my aching head; While to imagination's startled ear,

Toll'd the slow bell for bright Eliza dead.

Stretch'd on her sable bier, the grave beside,

A snow-white shroud her breathless bosom bound, O'er her wan brow its gather'd folds were tied,

And loves and graces hung their garlands round.

From those closed lips did softest accents flow?
Round that pale mouth the sweetest dimples play?
On this dull cheek the rose of beauty blow?
And these dim eyes diffuse celestial day?

Did this closed hand unasking want relieve,
Or wake the lyre to every rapturous sound?
How sad for other's woe this breast would heave,
How light that heart for other's transport bound!

Beats not the bell again! heavens do I wake!
Why heave my sighs, and gush my tears anew?
Unreal forms my frantic doubts mistake,
And trembling Fancy fears the vision true.

Dream! to Eliza bend thy airy flight,

Go tell my charmer all my tender fears; How love's fond woes alarm the silent night,

And steep my pillow with unpitied tears.

ODE

TO THE

RIVER DARWENT.*

DARWENT! what scenes thy wandering waves behold, As bursting from their hundred springs they stray, And down the vales in sounding torrents' roll'd

Seek to the shining east their mazy way.

2.

Here, dusky Alders leaning from the cliff

Dip their long arms, and wave their branches wide; There, as the loose rocks thwart my bounding skiff, White Moon-beams tremble on thy foaming tide.

3.

Flow on ye waves! where drest in gorgeous pride
Fair Chatsworth beams amid' her roseate bow'rs,

* Written near the source of the river Darwent, in the wilds of the Peak in Derbyshire.

Spreads her smooth lawns along your willowy side, And crests your woodlands with her gilded tow'rs.

4.

Flow on ye waves! where Nature's wildest child Frowning incumbent o'er the darken'd floods, Rock rear'd on rock, on mountain mountain pil'd, Old Matlock sits, and shakes his crown of woods.

5.

But when proud Derby's glittering spires ye view, Where his gay meads your sparkling currents drink, Oh! should Eliza press the morning dew,

And bend her graceful footsteps to your brink.

6.

Uncurl your eddies, all your gales confine,
And as your scaly myriads gaze around,
Bid your gay nymphs pourtray, with pencil fine,
Her angel form upon your silver ground.

7.

With playful malice from her kindling cheek

Steal the warm blush, and tinge your passing stream,

Mock the sweet transient dimple as she speaks,

And, as she turns her eye, reflect the beam.

8.

And tell her, Darwent, as you murmur by,
How in these wilds with hopeless love I burn,
Teach your lone vales and echoing caves to sigh,
And mix my briny sorrows in your urn.

WHEN the soft tear steals silently down from the Take no note of its course, nor detect the slow sigh;

eye,

From some spring of soft sorrow its origin flows,
Some tender remembrance that weeps as it goes.

2.

Ah! it is not to say what will bring to the mind,
The joys that are fled, and the friends left behind;
A tune, or a song, or the time of the year,
Strikes the key of reflection, and moans on the ear.

3.

Thro' the gay scenes of youth the remembrancer strays, 'Till mem'ry steps back on past pleasures to gaze; Fleeting shades they now seem, that glide silent away, The remains of past hours, and the ghosts of each day.