A FAREWELL. ONCE more, enchanting girl, adieu! The sweet expression of that face, Ah no, I dare not turn to trace, Yet give me, give me, ere I go, One little lock of those so blest, And on your white neck love to rest. -Say, when to kindle soft delight, That hand has chanced with mine to meet, How could its thrilling touch excite A sigh so short, and yet so sweet? O say-but no, it must not be. TO THE BUTTERFLY. CHILD of the sun! pursue thy rapturous flight, -Yet wert thou once a worm, a thing that crept And such is man; soon from his cell of clay To burst a seraph in the blaze of day! WRITTEN IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.* WHOE'ER thou art, approach, and, with a sigh, How near the Scene where late his Glory shone! Still do I see (while thro' the vaults of night * After the Funeral of the Right Hon. CHARLES JAMES Fox on Friday, October 10, 1806. &c. + Venez voir le peu qui nous reste de tant de grandeur, Bossuet. Oraison funébre de Louis de Bourbon. The illustrious line, that in long order led, Of those, that loved Him living, mourned Him dead; Of those the Few, that for their Country stood All, of all ranks, that claimed him for their own; Oh say, of Him now rests there but a name; The dumb were eloquent, the feeble strong. * Et rien enfin ne manque dans tous ces honneurs, que celui à qui on les rend.-Ibid. + Alluding particularly to his speech on moving a new writ for the borough of Tavistock, March 16, 1802. See that admirable delineation of his character by Sir James Mackintosh, which first appeared in the Bombay Courier, January 17, 1807. |