Then with what fond delight I hail'd unclose The dawn, which must those eyes E'en to exist was ecstacy, To feel the sun, to breathe the gale; Charm'd to expect, to hear, to see Friends, whose dear smiles were more to me Than all Peruvian mountains veil! More rosy than the morn of June Those happy days, now far removed; And sweeter than the linnet's tune, That gaily choir'd its liquid sun, The accents of the lips I loved! But Earth, deprived, no longer seems Pale as the ice-incrusted streams Beneath the cold moon's trembling gleams, The brightest scene she now can show. E'en tho' the gay consummate year All that her gorgeous livery wear, Low in the chambers of the grave Stretch'd are those forms, in iron sleep, Where, Lichfield, the unrivall'd sway Enchantress, broken is thy spell, Snapt thy charm'd wand, eclips'd thy star; And to the dark and narrow cell The Spirit points, here wont to dwell, And spread his purple beams afar. 1. 10. Brave Andre-See Major André's beautiful letters, prefixed to the Monody on his disastrous fate. Yes, the fair Spirit of delight, So long who made these bowers his home! Now sad he folds his pinions bright, And, pondering the sepulchral blight, Griev'd while I rove each well-known street, The friends, whom there I used to meet, No more, HONORA, shall I see Thy speaking eyes, that cheer'd my soul! SAVILLE, the gates of harmony Eternally were closed to me, When thou didst pass the Mortal Goal! No due return of months and years Shall bring you, ever-loved, again; Mine are feign'd smiles and genuine tears, Yet O! since Death's avoidless hour, Terrestrial blessings to restore, Which shone the mind's soft sun to me. Lest that should be, with all its gloom, END OF THE THIRD VOLUME. EDINBURGH : Printed by James Ballantyne and Co. |