I took the ring--the seal I took, While, oh, her every tear and look Were such as angels look and shed, When man is by the world misled.
Gently I whispered, "f.a.n.n.y, dear!
"Not half thy lover"s gifts are here: "Say, where are all the kisses given, "From morn to noon, from noon to even,-- "Those signets of true love, worth more "Than Solomon"s own seal of yore,-- "Where are those gifts, so sweet, so many?
"Come, dearest,--give back all, if any."
While thus I whispered, trembling too, Lest all the nymph had sworn was true, I saw a smile relenting rise Mid the moist azure of her eyes, Like daylight o"er a sea of blue, While yet in mid-air hangs the dew She let her cheek repose on mine, She let my arms around her twine; One kiss was half allowed, and then-- The ring and seal were hers again.
[1] "There are gardens, supposed to be those of King Solomon, in the neighborhood of Bethlehem. The friars show a fountain, which, they say, is the sealed fountain, to which the holy spouse in the Canticles is compared; and they pretend a tradition, that Solomon shut up these springs and put his signet upon the door, to keep them for his own drinking."--_Maundrell"s Travels_.
TO MISS SUSAN BECKFORD.[1]
ON HER SINGING.
I more than once have heard at night A song like those thy lip hath given, And it was sung by shapes of light, Who looked and breathed, like thee, of heaven.
But this was all a dream of sleep.
And I have said when morning shone:-- "Why should the night-witch, Fancy, keep "These wonders for herself alone?"
I knew not then that fate had lent Such tones to one of mortal birth; I knew not then that Heaven had sent A voice, a form like thine on earth.
And yet, in all that flowery maze Through which my path of life has led, When I have heard the sweetest lays From lips of rosiest l.u.s.tre shed;
When I have felt the warbled word From Beauty"s lip, in sweetness vying With music"s own melodious bird; When on the rose"s bosom lying
Though form and song at once combined Their loveliest bloom and softest thrill, My heart hath sighed, my ear hath pined For something lovelier, softer still:--
Oh, I have found it all, at last, In thee, thou sweetest living lyre, Through which the soul of song e"er past, Or feeling breathed its sacred fire.
All that I e"er, in wildest flight Of fancy"s dreams could hear or see Of music"s sigh or beauty"s light Is realized, at once, in thee!
[1] Afterward d.u.c.h.ess of Hamilton.
IMPROMPTU,
ON LEAVING SOME FRIENDS.
_o dulces comitum valete coetus_!
CATULLUS.
No, never shall my soul forget The friends I found so cordial-hearted; Dear shall be the day we met, And dear shall be the night we parted.
If fond regrets, however sweet, Must with the lapse of time decay, Yet stall, when thus in mirth you meet, Fill high to him that"s far away!
Long be the light of memory found Alive within your social gla.s.s; Let that be still the magic round.
O"er which Oblivion, dare not pa.s.s.
A WARNING.
TO .......
Oh, fair as heaven and chaste as light!
Did nature mould thee all so bright.
That thou shouldst e"er be brought to weep O"er languid virtue"s fatal sleep, O"er shame extinguished, honor fled, Peace lost, heart withered, feeling dead?
No, no! a star was born with thee, Which sheds eternal purity.
Thou hast, within those sainted eyes, So fair a transcript of the skies, In lines of light such heavenly lore That men should read them and adore.
Yet have I known a gentle maid Whose mind and form were both arrayed In nature"s purest light, like thine;-- Who wore that clear, celestial sign Which seems to mark the brow that"s fair For destiny"s peculiar care; Whose bosom, too, like Dian"s own, Was guarded by a sacred zone, Where the bright gem of virtue shone; Whose eyes had in their light a charm Against all wrong and guile and harm.
Yet, hapless maid, in one sad hour These spells have lost their guardian power; The gem has been beguiled away; Her eyes have lost their chastening ray; The modest pride, the guiltless shame, The smiles that from reflection came, All, all have fled and left her mind A faded monument behind; The ruins of a once pure shrine, No longer fit for guest divine, Oh! "twas a sight I wept to see-- Heaven keep the lost one"s fate from thee!
TO .......
"Tis time, I feel, to leave thee now, While yet my soul is something free; While yet those dangerous eyes allow One minute"s thought to stray from thee.
Oh! thou becom"st each moment dearer; Every chance that brings me nigh thee Brings my ruin nearer, nearer,-- I am lost, unless I fly thee.
Nay, if thou dost not scorn and hate me, Doom me not thus so soon to fall Duties, fame, and hopes await me,-- But that eye would blast them all!
For, thou hast heart as false and cold As ever yet allured and swayed, And couldst, without a sigh, behold The ruin which thyself had made.
Yet,--_could_ I think that, truly fond, That eye but once would smile on me, Even as thou art, how far beyond Fame, duty, wealth, that smile would be!
Oh! but to win it, night and day, Inglorious at thy feet reclined, I"d sigh my dreams of fame away, The world for thee forgot, resigned.