TO EMMA. Then fare thee well, deceitful maid, Nor hope nor memory yield their aid, BYRON. I wish, alas! I could regain When, scornfully, you bade me hide And gave that cutting look of pride You little deem'd what I endur'd, I saw, alas! that you were fair, I pray'd for joy-I sigh'd for bliss, I took my warning, then, from this- Believe me, I but seldom fear, I often stay too long to hear For sweet lips speak a pretty strain, I always wish to hear again Such silver words persuade. Emma! with you hope's smallest ray Was darken'd by despair: Then had I sooner run away, What were the wonder there? I wept away my font of tears, But never will I sigh again, It would but add another pain But though I have no wish to dwell My woes are on the brighter side, I really think I've wept and sigh'd 'Tis true, when Ellen ran away, T Honoria clouded o'er her brow, You, too, have sometimes had a share But, then, so much alloy was there, You know I vow'd not on my knee I swore not, though you laugh'd at me, I've seen a maid as fair as you; Her cheeks as rich in rosy hue; But, Emma, me you cannot blame That I so early quench'd the flame, C. DASHWOOD. ΤΟ Who was seen to weep at the Church of in the Mid summer vacation, 1828, during the performance of these words :Thou turnest man, O Lord, to dust," &c.—Psalm xc. Oh! do these words recall to mind Oh! do they probe a feeling heart, And make thine eye with sorrow wet; Hast thou been forc'd from one to part Thou never canst forget? Or have these solemn notes the pow'r, Do they so deep impression make And prompt the gushing tear. Or dost thou, in this hallow'd shrine, To save mankind? Who freely gave Himself a ransom e'en for thee? Who sought for mortals' sins the grave, To set offenders free? Then dost thou weep that men repay Such love with crime of deepest die, Whose stain man ne'er can wash away, Nor just atonement e'er supply? If that thou shedd'st the conscious tear, TO A FRIEND. ON LEAVING SALISBURY, AUGUST, 1828. Adieu to the scenes of my mirth, Where pleasures enraptur'd have flown, Adieu to the place that gave birth To friendship so truly my own. Alas! that I could but detain This day which so saddens my heart, This eve, which approaches so fast, I go-but I ne'er shall forget- I quit the dear spot with regret, I leave an affectionate friend. How cold is the breast which asserts, Oh! pleasures are doubly enjoy'd When the heart of a friend we possess ; If pensive, that grief is destroy'd, The thought I must leave thee behind, And the tear-drop which moistens my eye. |