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BIRTH OF A POSTHUMOUS CHILD,
BORN IN PECULIAR CIRCUMSTANCES OF FAMILY
SWEET flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love,
And ward o'mony a pray'r,
Sae helpless, sweet, and fair.
Chill on thy lovely form:
Should shield thee frae the storm.
And wings the blast to bław,
The bitter frost and spaw.
Who heal's life's various stounds,
And heal her cruel wounds.
Fair on the summer morn :
Uns helter'd and forlorn.
Uoscath'd by ruffian hand !
Arise to deck our land.
THE LAMENT, OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE OF
A FRIEND'S AMOUR.
Alas! how oft doth goodness wound itself,
O THOU pale orb, that silent shines,
While care-untroubled mortals sleep!
And wanders here to wail and weep !
Beneath thy wan unwarming beam;
How life and love are all a dream.
The faintly-marked distant hill :
Reflected in the gurgling rill :
Thou busy pow'r, Remembrance, cease!
For ever bar returning peace
My sad love-lorn lamentings claim;
No fabled tortures, quaint and tame :
The oft-attested powers above,
These were the pledges of my love !
How have the raptur'd moments flown!
For her dear sake, and her's alooc!
And must I think it! is she gone,
My secret heart's exulting boast?
And is she ever, ever lost?
So lost to honour, lost to truth,
The plighted husband of her youth! Alas! life's path:may be unsmooth,
Her way may lie through rough distress! Then, who her pangs and pains will soothe,
Her sorrows share, and make them less ? Ye wingeď hours that o'er us past,
Enraptur'd more the more enjoy'd, Your dear remembrance in my breast,
My fondly-treasur'd thoughts employ'd. That breast, how dreary now, and void,
For her too scanty once of room ! Ev'n ev'ry ray of hope destroy'd,
And not a wish to gild the gloom ! The morn that warns th' approaching day
Awakes me up to toil and woe: I see the hours in long array,
That I must suffer, ling'ring, slow. Full many a pang, and many a throe,
Keen recollection's direful train, Must wring my soul, ere Phæbus, low,
Shall kiss the distant western main. And when my nightly couch I try,
Sore harrassid out with care and grief, My toil-beat nerves, and tear-worn eye,
Keep watchings with the nightly thief ; Or if I slumber, Fancy, chief,
Reigns haggard-wild, in sore affright: Ev'n day, all bitter, brings relief,
Fr such a horror-breathing night. O thou, bright queen, who o'er th' expans
Now highest reigns't, with boundless sway Oft has thy silent-marking glance Obsery'd us, fondly-wandering, stray!
The time, unheeded, sped away,
While love's luxurious polse beat high,
To mark the mutual kindling eye.
Scenes, never, never to return !
Again I feel, again I burn!
Life's weary vale I'll wander through
A faithless woman's broken vow.
OPPRESS'D with grief, oppress’d with care,
burden more than I can bear,
I sit me down and sigh:
To wretches such as I !
What sick’ning scenes appear!
Must be my bitter doom ;
But with the closing tomb!
No other view regard !
They bring their own reward :
Whilst I, a hope-abandon’d wight,
Unfitted witb an aim,
Forget each grief and paio ;
Find ev'ry prospect vain.
Within his hamble cell,
Beside his crystal well!
By unfrequented stream,
His thoughts to Heav'n on high,
He views the solemn sky.
Less fit to play the part;
With self-respecting art:
Which I too keenly taste,
Or human love or hate,
At perfidy ingrate!
To care, to guilt unknown!