So will not fade the flowers which Emmeline With delicate fingers on the snow-white silk Has worked, (the flowers which most she knew I loved, And, more beloved than they, her auburn hair. In the cool morning twilight, early waked By her full bosom's joyous restlessness, Softly she rose, and lightly stole along, Down the slope coppice to the woodbine bower, Whose rich flowers, swinging in the morning breeze, Over their dim fast-moving shadows hung, Making a quiet image of disquiet In the smooth, scarcely moving river-pool. There, in that bower where first she owned her love, high, with blue blossom and bright yellow eye. It has the same name over the whole Empire of Germany (Virgissmein nicht) and we believe, in Denmark and Sweden. Her voice, (that even in her mirthful mood VOL. I. TO A LADY. WITH FALCONER'S 66 SHIPWRECK." АH! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams, Nor yet while gazing in sublimer mood Our sea-bard sang this song! which still he sings, And sings for thee, sweet friend! Hark, Pity, hark! Now mounts, now totters on the Tempest's wings, Now groans, and shivers, the replunging Bark! Cling to the shrouds !" In vain! The breakers roar— Death shrieks! With two alone of all his clan Forlorn the poet paced the Grecian shore, No classic roamer, but a ship-wrecked man! Say then, what muse inspired these genial strains, Of Gratitude! Remembrances of Friend, Or absent or no more! Shades of the Past, Which Love makes Substance! Hence to thee I send, O dear as long as life and memory last! I send with deep regards of heart and head, Sweet maid, for friendship formed! this work to thee: And thou, the while thou canst not choose but shed A tear for FALCONER, wilt remember ME. TO A YOUNG LADY. ON HER RECOVERY FROM A FEVER. WHY need I say, Louisa dear! Risen from the bed of pain and fear, And feverish heat incessant. The sunny Showers, the dappled Sky, Believe me, while in bed you lay, |