Laid rank and fortune, heart and hand, Instead of blushing her consent, She "wonder'd what the blockhead meant." Yet still the fashionable fool Was proud of Laura's ridicule; Though still despised, he still pursued, In ostentatious servitude, Seeming, like lady's lap-dog, vain Of being led by Beauty's chain. He knelt, he gaz'd, he sigh'd, and swore, When years had past, and Laura's frown The next to gain the beauty's ear Well deem'd the prince of rhyme and blank; Of Helicon's poetic tide, Where nonsense flows, and numbers glide; And slumber'd on the herbage green, In short-his very footmen know it- He came and rhym'd-he talk'd of fountains, Of Pindus, and Pierian mountains ; * "Aut insanit homo,-aut versus facit."-HOR. "All Bedlam-or Parnassus is let out."-POPE. Of wandering lambs, of gurgling rills, He thought a lover's vow grew sweeter, And planted every speech with flowers, "Laura-I perish for your sake," (Here he digress'd about a lake ;) "The charms thy features all disclose,”(A simile about a rose ;) "Have set my very soul on fire," (An episode about his lyre ;) Though you despise-I still must love,”(Something about a turtle dove ;) "Alas! in death's unstartled sleep,"(Just here he did his best to weep ;) "Laura, the willow soon shall wave, Over thy lover's lowly grave." Then he began, with pathos due, To speak of cypress and of rue : But Fortune's unforeseen award Parted the Beauty from the Bard; For Laura, in that evil hour When unpropitious stars had power, Unmindful of the thanks she owed, Lighted her taper with an ode. Poor William all his vows forgot, And hurried from the fatal spot, In all the bitterness of quarrel, To write lampoons-and dream of laurel. Years fleeted by, and every grace Began to fade from Laura's face; Through every circle whispers ran, And aged dowagers began To gratify their secret spite:- But rouge won't make one young for ever; Laura should think of being sage, You know-she's of a certain age." Her wonted wit began to fail, Her slaves diminish'd by degrees, They ceas'd to fawn-as she to please. For Chremes talked too much of stocks, And Laura of her opera box. Unhappy Laura! sadness marr'd What tints of beauty time had spared; For all her wide-extended sway Had faded, like a dream, away; And they that lov'd her pass'd her by, With alter'd, or averted eye. That silent scorn, that chilling air The fallen tyrant could not bear; I gaz'd upon that lifeless form, So late with hope and fancy warm; That pallid brow-that eye of jet, SONNETS. WRITTEN ON THE LAST LEAF OF SHAKSPEARE. So now the charmed book is ended, Mary! The wand is broken, and the spell is o'er; And thou hast mused or smiled o'er witch and faery, I knew thee genuine child of poesy, When erst thou toldst me of that twin-born star, FROM HARTLAND POINT. GALES of th' Atlantic! blithely are ye blowing! What news bring ye from o'er the Ocean waste? Tides of th' Atlantic! fiercely are ye flowing! Mysterious agents! whither do ye haste? Answer! for here I stand as once of yore That glorious demigod, Alcmena's son, Where the red Sun down in the west was setting, DUNSTER HERMITAGE. HERE were a bower for Love! This balmy grot Cresting the mountain summit, whiles around The thick oaks shut the world from this sweet spot, The great sea rolls beyond with ceaseless sound! On such an eve as this, O Mary, be In such a place as this, and I will tell My love with holier warmth, touch'd by the spell Intense of heaven, of air, of earth, and sea. Then should our love be glowing as yon sky, Pure as the crescent in the dim twilight, Eternal as the ocean in his might, And we the Lovers joyously on high Sitting above the world. But distant far Art thou, and lonely, like the evening star. *Herculis Promontorium.-CAMDEN. + Columbus. |