To a LOCK of HAIR. Relick of her whom most of all I love, How oft revert my thoughts to that past day, eager As o'er her neck the auburn ringlets roved; How fondly have I gazed on thee, when woe Has waked the throbbing tumult in my breast; And loath were I thy presence to forego, Tho' that loved presence robb'd me of my rest. No, dear memento, no, we will not part, For I will ever wear thee next my heart. M Past are those hours of unembitter'd mirth, Met cheerfully to talk dull time away. And dare I prize thee, when another's fame Yet when old age shall blunt the sting of care, my When stoic wisdom shall have steel'd breast, When cold indifference shall annul despair, And mellow sorrow to reflective rest, Yet even in death we will not know to part, 1794. H. W. B. The TEMPEST. The Tempest has darken'd the face of the skies, And mingle the clouds with the white-foaming main. All dark is the night and all gloomy the shore, But tho' now all is murky and shaded with gloom, And enamoured embrace the fair sweet-smiling Peace. For the bright-blushing morning all rosy with light Then the warblers of Spring shall attune the soft lay, And again the bright flowret shall blush in the dale On the breast of the ocean the Zephyr shall play, And the sun-beam shall sleep on the hill and the dal If the tempests of Nature so soon sink to rest, By the tempests of passion, of sorrow, and pain? Ah no! for his passions and sorrows shall cease When the troublesome fever of life shall be o’er ; In the night of the grave he shall slumber in peace, And passion and sorrow shall vex him no more. And shall not this night and its long dismal gloom, D. 1796. |