LINES
TO LADY WARREN,
On the Departure of Sir John Borlase Warren, K.B.
TO TAKE THE COMMAND OF A SQUADRON.
Oh! why does sorrow shade thy face,
Where mind and beauty vie with grace?
Say, dost thou for thy hero weep,
Who gallantly, upon the deep,
Is gone to tell the madd’ning foe,
Tho’ vict’ry laid our Nelson low,
We still have chiefs as greatly brave,
Proudly triumphant on the wave?
Dear to thy Country shalt thou be,
Fair mourner! and her sympathy
Is thine; for, in the war’s alarms,
Thou gav’st thine hero from thine arms;
And only ask’d to sigh alone,
To look to heav’n, and weep him gone.
Oh! soon shall all thy sorrow cease,
And, to thine aching bosom, peace
Shall quick return;—another tear
To love and joy, supremely dear,
Shall give thy gen’rous mind relief—
That tear shall gem the laurel leaf.
LINES
TO MISS ——,
ACCOMPANIED BY A ROSE AND A LILY.
I look’d the fragrant garden round
For what I thought would picture best
Thy beauty and thy modesty;
A lily and a rose I found,—
With kisses on their leaves imprest,
I send the beauteous pair to thee.
SONG.
Nature’s imperfect child, to whom
The world is wrapt in viewless gloom,
Can unresisted still impart
The fondest wishes of his heart.
And he, to whose impervious ear
The sweetest sounds no charms dispense,
Can bid his inmost soul appear
In clear, tho’ silent, eloquence.
But we, my Julia, not so blest,
Are doom’d a diff’rent fate to prove,—
To feel each joy and hope supprest
That flow from pure, but hidden, love.