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Long years of hope deceived
Patkul thou art avenged !
TO A BROTHER AND SISTER,
Written soon after a Recovery from Sickness.
By CHARLES LLOYD.
'Tis surely hard the melancholy day
To waste without the cheering voice of friend, To see the morning dart its golden ray,
To see the night in misty dews descend,
Nor catch one sound where Love and Meekness blend; 'Tis surely hard for him who knows how dear
A kindred soul, eternally to send
A fruitless prayer for smiles and words that cheer, The wish in looks revealed and rapture's holy tear,
Him whom the spirit of Attachment warms,
The nameless thrilling and the soft desire,
Its young allurement and its living fire ;
For him in tedious languor to expire,
Fitted for love, of every joy the sire,
Thank Heaven, such lot hath never yet been mine,
For if the gloom of discontent should fall And my young spirit for a season pine,
I cannot, save with gratitude, recall
Gay-painted hours of dancing festival, When new and joyous friendships bore away
All fears of what in future might befall, All recollections of uncheer'd dismay Giving to full content the heartsome holiday.
And still (with pride my heart the truth reveals) Beneath my quiet and paternal roof,
for ever meet the look that heals Pale Sorrow's. anguish with a kind reproof.
For all the prodigal regards of youth And all the sympathies of gentlest love,
And all the sweet simplicity of truth, In silent harmony for ever move Along the heaven-blest scene ordained for us to rove..
Brothers and Sisters ! friends of infancy !
Oh how my heart rejoices when I speak Of all the sweetness of the home-bred tie,
Whose gentle charities and graces meek
Spread with a fairer hue the youthful cheek
Yes ! it beseems that I could never seek,
When morn first wakes me with its cheering smile
That cheering smile, it seems my friends to wear, Is friendship's charm transfused that all the while
Lives In the silent spirit of the air :
Your voices, looks, and kind enquiries bear Their living incense to each gladdened view,
And all that beams around so gay and fair Is Love's officious toil, that paints anew lach form that looks like life with no térrestrial htać.
And when meek evening glides athwart the sky
And drowsy silence hangs upon the earth,
May chance from haunts of bacchanalian mirth
To meet his ear who sadly wandering forth Courts every hinting of departed bliss;
Yes, when meek evening glides, there spring to birth Thousand dear images of happiness, The Brother's honest grasp, the Sister's holy kiss.
And most to you my two beloved friends!
My Sister, and my Brother, most to you My heart its cordial gratulation sends ;
Olivia, Robert, friends both tried and true!