Short Poems

D AMON , whom all the World, but I believ'd
The falsest Wretch that ever Nymph deceiv'd,
According to the Promise of my Mind,
The truest, and the faithfull'st Youth I find;
Thro' ev'ry little Vice I trac'd the Swain,
But still found Honour in his Bosom reign:
So Proteus , if a Chain but held him fast,
Shook off the Beast, and prov'd a God at last.

O H ! this illicit passion, —
'Tis ardent for a season, yet 'twill waste,
Like a wide-flaring and ill-guarded flame,
By its own vehemence; while real Love,
Like the mysterious bush which Moses saw,
Burns — yet is not consumed!

See while the juggler pleasure smiles
Before our dazzled face,
Enchanted by her various wiles
We watch each sportive grace,
But while the fascinating dame
Holds fixed our wondering eyes,
She robs us of our peace and fame,
The gems we most should prize.

Why does not Joy its favourites kill ?
To live and breathe, when Joy is fled,
A doom inflicts, more painful still
Than torments that can reach the dead .

T HE sympathizing Muse to feather'd grief
In a melodious tear imparts relief.
But, when Despair the bosom has oppress'd,
And leaves the heart no interval of rest,
In vain the Bard or Minstrel we implore:
Mute is their spirit, and is heard no more.

S WEET bloom, that 's ever in its prime,
Superior to the waste of Time,
Your privilege we all approve —
But wish the secret known to Love .

A WAY ! tormenter of the heart!
No more with unsuspected art
The cup of joy present!
From Love's regret thy mirrour banish,
Bid thy accusing spirits vanish,
Thy subtle fiends relent!

HERE Emma , though her discipline was hard,
Was made immortal by a deathless Bard:
For, though her Love nor age nor scene can boast,
The Nine adopt, and personate the Ghost.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN A DOWAGER AND HER MAID ON THE NIGHT OF
LORD YARMOUTH'S FETE .

" I WANT the Court Guide, " said my lady, " to look
" If the House, Seymour Place, be at 30, or 20. " —
" We 've lost the Court Guide , Ma'am, but here 's the Red Book ,
" Where you 'll find, I dare say, Seymour Places in plenty! "

FROM THE FRENCH .

" I NEVER gave a kiss (says Prue),
" To naughty man, for I abhor it. "
She will not give a kiss, 't is true;
She'll take one though, and thank you for it.