O, EVER DEAR! thy precious, vital powers
Sink rapidly!—the long and dreary Night
Brings scarce an hope that Morn's returning light
Shall dawn for THEE!—In such terrific hours,
When yearning Fondness eagerly devours
Each moment of protracted life, his flight
The Rashly-Chosen of thy heart has ta'en
Where dances, songs, and theatres invite.
Expiring Sweetness! with indignant pain
I see him in the scenes where laughing glide
Pleasure's light Forms;—see his eyes gaily glow,
Regardless of thy life's fast ebbing tide;
I hear him, who shou'd droop in silent woe,
Declaim on Actors, and on Taste decide!
SONNET XXXII.
SUBJECT OF THE PRECEDING SONNET CONTINUED.
Behold him now his genuine colours wear,
That specious False-One, by whose cruel wiles
I lost thy amity; saw thy dear smiles
Eclips'd; those smiles, that us'd my heart to cheer,
Wak'd by thy grateful sense of many a year
When rose thy youth, by Friendship's pleasing toils
Cultur'd;—but DYING!—O! for ever fade
The angry fires.—Each thought, that might upbraid
Thy broken faith, which yet my soul deplores,
Now as eternally is past and gone
As are the interesting, the happy hours,
Days, years, we shar'd together. They are flown!
Yet long must I lament thy hapless doom,
Thy lavish'd life and early-hasten'd tomb.
SONNET XXXIII.
Last night her Form the hours of slumber bless'd
Whose eyes illumin'd all my youthful years.—
Spirit of dreams, at thy command appears
Each airy Shape, that visiting our rest,
Dismays, perplexes, or delights the breast.
My pensive heart this kind indulgence cheers;
Bliss, in no waking moment now possess'd,
Bliss, ask'd of thee with Memory's thrilling tears,
Nightly I cry, how oft, alas! in vain,
Give, by thy powers, that airy Shapes controul,
Honora to my visions!—ah! ordain
Her beauteous lip may wear the smile that stole,
In years long fled, the sting from every pain!
Show her sweet face, ah show it to my soul!
SONNET XXXIV.
When Death, or adverse Fortune's ruthless gale,
Tears our best hopes away, the wounded Heart
Exhausted, leans on all that can impart
The charm of Sympathy; her mutual wail
How soothing! never can her warm tears fail
To balm our bleeding grief's severest smart;
Nor wholly vain feign'd Pity's solemn art,
Tho' we should penetrate her sable veil.
Concern, e'en known to be assum'd, our pains
Respecting, kinder welcome far acquires
Than cold Neglect, or Mirth that Grief profanes.
Thus each faint Glow-worm of the Night conspires,
Gleaming along the moss'd and darken'd lanes,
To cheer the Gloom with her unreal fires.