Ah! frown not, sweet lady, unbend your soft brow,
Nor deen me too happy in this;

If I sin in my dream, I atone for it now,
Thus doom'd but to gaze upon bliss.

Though in visions, sweet lady, perhaps you may smile, Oh! think not my penance deficient !

When dreams of your presence my slumbers beguile, To awake will be torture sufficient.

TO MARY,

ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE. (1)

THIS faint resemblance of thy charms,
Though strong as mortal art could give,
My constant heart of fear disarms,
Revives my hopes, and bids me live.

Here I can trace the locks of gold
Which round thy snowy forehead wave,
The cheeks which sprung from beauty's mould,
The lips which made me beauty's slave.

Here I can trace-ah, no! that eye,
Whose azure floats in liquid fire,

Must all the painter's art defy,

And bid him from the task retire.

(1) Of this "Mary," who is not to be confounded with the heiress of Annesley, or "Mary" of Aberdeen, all that has been ascertained is, that she was of an humble, if not equivocal, station in life, and that she had long light golden hair," of which," says Moore," he used to show a lock, as well as her picture, among his friends."- E.

Here I behold its beauteous hue;

But where's the beam so sweetly straying (1) Which gave a lustre to its blue,

Like Luna o'er the ocean playing?

Sweet copy! far more dear to me,
Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art,

Than all the living forms could be,

Save her who placed thee next my heart.

She placed it, sad, with needless fear,

Lest time might shake my wavering soul, Unconscious that her image there

Held every sense in fast control.

Through hours, through years, through time, 'twill cheer;

My hope, in gloomy moments, raise;

In life's last conflict 'twill appear,

And meet my fond expiring gaze.

TO LESBIA.

LESBIA! since far from you I've ranged,
Our souls with fond affection glow not;

You say 'tis I, not you, have changed,

I'd tell you why,

(1) In the private volume

but yet I know not.

But where's the beam of soft desire?

Which gave a lustre to its blue,

Love, only love, could e'er inspire. — E.

Your polish'd brow no cares have crost;
And, Lesbia! we are not much older
Since, trembling, first my heart I lost,
Or told my love, with hope grown bolder.

Sixteen was then our utmost age,

Two years have lingering past away, love! And now new thoughts our minds engage, At least I feel disposed to stray, love!

'Tis I that am alone to blame,

I, that am guilty of love's treason; Since your sweet breast is still the same, Caprice must be my only reason.

I do not, love! suspect your truth,
With jealous doubt my bosom heaves not;
Warm was the passion of my youth,
One trace of dark deceit it leaves not.

No, no, my flame was not pretended;
For, oh! I loved you most sincerely;
And though our dream at last is ended-
My bosom still esteems you dearly.

No more we meet in yonder bowers;
Absence has made me prone to roving;

But older, firmer hearts than ours
Have found monotony in loving.

Your cheek's soft bloom is unimpair'd,

New beauties still are daily bright'ning,

Your eye for conquest beams prepared,
The forge of love's resistless lightning.

Arm'd thus, to make their bosoms bleed,
Many will throng to sigh like me, love!
More constant they may prove, indeed;
Fonder, alas! they ne'er can be, love!

LINES ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.

[As the author was discharging his pistols in a garden, two ladies passing near the spot were alarmed by the sound of a bullet hissing near them; to one of whom the following stanzas were addressed the next morning.] (1)

DOUBTLESS, Sweet girl! the hissing lead,
Wafting destruction o'er thy charms,
And hurtling (2) o'er thy lovely head,
Has fill'd that breast with fond alarms.

Surely some envious demon's force,
Vex'd to behold such beauty here,
Impell❜d the bullet's viewless course,
Diverted from its first career.

Yes! in that nearly fatal hour

The ball obey'd some hell-born guide; But Heaven, with interposing power,

In pity turn'd the death aside.

(1) The occurrence took place at Southwell, and the beautiful lady to

whom the lines were addressed was Miss Houson.-E.

(2) This word is used by Gray, in his poem to the Fatal Sisters :

"Iron sleet of arrowy shower

Hurtles through the darken'd air."

Yet, as perchance one trembling tear
Upon that thrilling bosom fell;
Which I, th' unconscious cause of fear,
Extracted from its glistening cell:

Say, what dire penance can atone
For such an outrage done to thee?
Arraign'd before thy beauty's throne,
What punishment wilt thou decree?

Might I perform the judge's part,

The sentence I should scarce deplore ; It only would restore a heart

Which but belong'd to thee before.

The least atonement I can make
Is to become no longer free ;
Henceforth I breathe but for thy sake,
Thou shalt be all in all to me.

But thou, perhaps, may'st now reject
Such expiation of my guilt:

Come then, some other mode elect;
Let it be death, or what thou wilt.

Choose then, relentless! and I swear Nought shall thy dread decree prevent; Yet hold one little word forbear!

Let it be aught but banishment.