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THE COMPLAINT OF NINATHÓMA.
How long will ye round me be swelling,
ye blue-tumbling waves of the Sea ? Not always in Caves was my dwelling,
Nor beneath the cold blast of the Tree. Through the high-sounding halls of Cathlóma
In the steps of my Beauty I strayed; The Warriors beheld Ninathóma,
And they blessed the white-bosomed Maid !
A Ghost ! by my Cavern it darted !
In moon-beams the Spirit was drestFor lovely appear
the DEPARTED When they visit the dreams of my
Rest! But disturbed by the Tempest's commotion
Fleet the shadowy forms of DelightAh cease, thou shrill blast of the Ocean !
To howl through my Cavern by Night.
IMITATED FROM THE WELSH.
IF, while my passion I impart,
words untrue, O place your hand upon my heart
Feel how it throbs for you !
Ah no! reject the thoughtless claim
In pity to your Lover! That thrilling touch would aid the flame,
It wishes to discover.
TO AN INFANT.
Au cease thy Tears and Sobs, my little Life!
Break Friendship's Mirror with a tetchy blow,
O thou that rearest with celestial aim
WRITTEN AT SHURTON BARS, NEAR BRIDGEWATER, SEPTEMBER, 1795,
IN ANSWER TO A LETTER FROM BRISTOL.
Good verse most good, and bad verse then seems better
Nor travels my meandering eye
Nor now with curious sight
green radiance” through the grass, An EMERALD of Light.