English

To whom shall I my sorrows tell?
Who will listen to my woe?
Why in such a time farewell,
Comfort, wouldst thou bid, and go,
Leaving Love alone to dwell?

Hope, that fair appeared to me,
What away from me could wean thee?
Were I now thy face to see
Still wouldst thou a stranger be,
Since so long I have not seen thee!

They who sightless Love portray
No wise fancy so devise,
For Love has as many eyes
As the deaths for which I pray;
And not one to me replies.

Nature and Art, the other day,
Both most vehemently offended,
Just met each other on their way,
And thus with mutual warmth contended:

" Away! " cried Nature, in a passion,
" Thou that hast thought to be my equal!
" Thy short-liv'd pride, thou child of Fashion.
" Is all but folly in the sequel.

" With all thy boasting — all thy glory —
" And pompous metaphors, so fine,
" What is thy long, elab'rate story,
" To one pathetic glance of mine?

" Even in my wildest dishabille,

O Thou! for whom wise Socrates did die,
And Plato seek by Reason's feeble aid,
Descend, dear Angel! from the shining sky,
In Revelation's glorious light array'd;
With thy propitious smiles disperse the night,
That, like chaotic gloom, o'erwhelms my mental sight.

Lo! beauteous Virtue! Vice, in fair disguise,
Leads thousands, o'er her flow'ry paths, astray.
Remove, remove, from their deluded eyes,
The film of Sin, and shew thy heav'nly day;
Then Pleasure's seeming charms shall please no more —

Says Spirit to Fashion, " You make me a bully,
" To whim and base passion an infamous cully;
" A mere senseless cudgel — for riots a plea,
" And th' exploits of a thief are now laid upon me.

" If a Buck breaks your windows, he cannot tell " why —
" Oh valour prodigious! and knocks out your eye;
" If you tell an untruth, that's mischievous and " low,
" And kill a brave man for suspecting 'tis so;
" If you dare a great man and your King to abuse,
" And with scandalous jests your companions " amuse;

Minerva in heaven disconsolate mourn'd
The loss of her Cook, who Britain adorn'd;
She shun'd the celestials, and solitude fought,
There wept as she glanc'd o'er the actions he'd wrought.

Surpriz'd at his deeds, she fat pensive, amaz'd,
When sudden her eyes to a volume were rais'd;
'Twas Fate's mighty mirror, the goddess desery'd,
Where glory he'd gain'd, on the pages were dy'd.

Sensibility smil'd, as the records she press'd,
And sigh'd as in pity these words were express'd;

Sacred must thou, palace, be
That such treasure in thy hand
Dost enfold,
Fairer, if aught alchemy
Fairer yield, thy walls should stand
Ev'n than gold.

Then, ah then, clear rubies red
And fair polished emeralds green
Thy windows were,
Since thee have angels visited
And in thy entrances are seen
That are so fair.

I adore thee, goddess mine,
More than all the gods divine,
That art my gladness,
Yea, the goddess of my joy
And of cares that me annoy
And my sadness.

Ah check yon courser, o'er mountains he speeds,
And rescue fair Emma, fair Emma that bleeds;
See wildly she beckons, fly, youths, to her aid,
Protect my fair Emma, oh! save the sweet maid.

He's thrown her! — he's thrown her! — Ah, see where she lies,
And dim are the lustre of Emma's bright eyes;
Sweet blossom, tho' gathered in life's early bloom,
The tear of soft pity shall water thy tomb.

Three days she has not come to me,
And my life is in her power,
And my delight.
Lady mine, who thus prevents thee?
How can I live but one hour
From thy sight?

Since thy anger will not cease
And such war it is thy pleasure
I should have,
Since lost is all my peace
Take me, Death, to seek this treasure
In the grave.

For to me when Love first won me,
He said: — Condemned art thou
Soon to die. —
Thus he passed sentence upon me,
But my life prolongeth now
Cruelly.

O wood of woe and grief
And fair flowered trees that hence
Ne'er shall go,
Ye would wither, flower and leaf,
Were human thought and sense
Yours to know.

Since departed now is she,
Who my bitterness can raise
To a throne,
You in sympathy for me
Would stand bare for all your days,
Leafless grown.

Thou mountain nymph, fair Solitude!
O! lead me to thy secret cell,
Where no unholy cares intrude,
But Peace and V IRTUE ever dwell.

The cavern'd rock, with moss o'ergrown,
And crown'd with ivy's lasting hue,
Thou chusest for thy rural throne—
Thy canopy the concave blue.

O! place me gently by thy side,
Whilst the wide landscape blooms below,
And o'er our heads, in Nature's pride,
Rich show'rs form Heav'n's resplendent bow.

Whilst, downward, on the sunny plain,