COMPOSED AT THE REQUEST OF A LADY IN THE ABSENCE OF HER HUSBAND.
O SACRED love! sweet source of grief and joy!
'Tis thine to bless, and thou canst bliss destroy.
The most unalter'd pleasures that we feel,
Arise from love, that love that's pure and real :
And sure the sharpest pangs which rend the heart,
Are when a faithful pair are doom'd to part.
When from my side my dearest self was torn,
'Twas then I might be truly said to mourn.
Behold our infant train assembled round!
Should I complain when with such blessings
crown'd!
I view them with a fond impatient eye,
And trace your image in each smiling boy.
O where shall I thy truest likeness find?
"Tis best impress'd on my own bleeding mind.
Could I the feelings of my heart unfold;-
But they are such as never can be told.
To think in silence is my hapless lot,
And you the subject of each rising thought.
Sometimes my bosom's fill'd with chilling fears;
A scene of horror to my view appears.
Methinks I see you in a distant place,
Without a friend, without a last embrace,
Expiring lie. If this should be your fate-
I cannot bear the thought-O desp❜rate state!
But heaven, I trust, has better things in store;
Heaven will restore thee to my arms once more.
And when we meet, what transport will it be
Το open all my secret thoughts to thee,
To tell thee all the feelings of my breast,
And in thy sweet society be blest.
ON LOVE AT THE REQUEST OF A FRIEND.
LOVE's soft enchantment let me never know;
But shun, at least, one avenue of woe.
Let cold indiff'rence chill my vital part,
And shut each tender opening to my heart.
Love's a perplex'd compound of hopes and fears;
Storms rais'd by sighs, and deluges of tears.
Most leave the shore with a propitious gale;
Hope's gentle breezes fill the swelling sail ;
Smooth and unruff'd the soft waters flow,
Covering the rocks and quicksands hid below:
But soon, perhaps, unthought-of storms arise,
Lifting the foaming billows to the skies.
Then stands reveal'd the unsuspected rock;
Hope sinks o'erwhelm'd, and peace of mind is
broke.
Alas! how many gentle hearts have mourn'd
The purest, tenderest passion, unreturn'd?
While others happy in a mutual flame,
Their joys and griefs, their hopes and fears the
Are by unthought-of obstacles surpris'd,
And love as duty must be sacrific'd.
'Tis dreadful to be station'd in a field,
Where it is death to conquer, or to yield;
Where one dicisive step must either prove
A breach of duty, or the death of love.
But happy they who prove their fix'd regard
To virtue, though they find her dictates hard.
Among the favour'd few whose hearts and hands
Are firmly join'd in Hymen's silken bands,
Where every care and sorrow seem forgot,
And crouding blessings crown their envied lot:
Too soon, alas! delight is chang'd to woe;
Death ends the happy union at a blow.
Then how bereft,how des'late,how forlorne!
'Twas thus, alas! I saw my mother mourn.
'Tis plain, my friend, they act a silly part,
Who give a feeble mortal all the heart.
Nothing beneath the great eternal whole,
Has worth sufficient to engross the soul.
But he our serious trials has ordain'd,
And by his grace they all may be sustain'd.
He fills the void when earthly comforts fly;
Cements and sweetens every human tie.
Then let each native passion have its way,
Govern'd by reason's and religion's sway.
I've read some authors, who minutely state
The readiest means the heart to regulate.
They treat of dress, of gesture, and of looks,
And give us lessons on the choice of books.
Then let pernicious novels* be resign'd;
And solid reading feed the craving mind.
*The Authoress does not intend to condemn all Novels as pernicious; many of them may be read with profit.
But let me not so sweet a pleasure lose
As warms my heart in culturing the muse.
What tho' she leads me to sequester'd bowers;
By purling streams and meadows clad with flowers;
Or fondly loiters in the shady grove,
Pleas'd with the gentle wooings of the dove:
In this she deviates not from nature's
And simple nature seldom leads astray.
Ye powers of harmony, for ever dear
To me; the readiest antidote to care;
Oft have you rais'd my soul on downy wings
Above the world and all terrestial things.
As you have cheer'd me in life's earliest stage,
O smooth the passage of declining age.
Let nought impure or impious ever find
Through thee an introduction to the mind.
Paint every virtue in its native white,
And make vice odious to the mortal sight.
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