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No more shalt thou my coldness mourn

I trust the drop that dims thine eye;
I see fair Truth thy lips adorn,

And hear her voice in ev'ry sigh.

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MUCH-INJUR'D MAID, who liest pale below,
To thee a PILGRIM sad I steal

away ;
In mournful silence steal, o’erpower'd with woe,

To bathe with floods of penitence thy clay.

Oh! can thy gentle ghost the wretch forgive,

Who seeks thy sod at this lone hour of nightA wretch, whose greatest hardship is to live,

Who, dead to pleasure, sickens at the light!

Oh! if my grief could soothe the sweetest SHADE,

And pardon gain, which JUSTICE must deny; Near Julia's ashes should this form be laid;

Its crimes forgotten--then what bliss to die !

Tir’d of the world, my heart no longer prays

(What others covet) for extended years : For who would madly court a length of days,

To count (alas !) the moments by his tears?



Detained in Italy by contrary winds, he expresses his

ardent desire for sailing for England.

Far from my Julia's arms I lonely sigh,

And wish to clasp thy beauties, but in vain; The surly winds my only wish deny,

Yet would I dare the dangers of the Main.

Ye winds and waves, how cruel to combine !

O let my pray’rs your rude, rude pity prove; Think of the gloomy moments that are mine!

Alas! ye know not what it is to love!

To stately structures now I urge my way,

And weakly think the minutes to beguile ! But anxious Love will not be led astray:

Love goads my bosom for the virgin's smile.

Now where the PAINTER shows his mimic art,

I strive to free my soul from Love's alarms; Lo, ev'ry VENUS but augments my smart,

And to my view presents thy brighter charms.

To Music now fatigu'd I yield my ear,

But Music cannot the dull hours controul; With cold indiff'rence ev'ry chord I hear, While not a sound descends into



Oft as I mark the tribes of air, I cry, (wind!

“How with your pinions would I mount the “Oh! with what rapture lifted, cleave the sky, “ And, turn'd to BRITAIN, leave my cares


In wishes thus, I daily waste my breath,

Chain’d by the tempest to this hated shore; When shall I leave, alas ! this land of death,

For life and thee, to part, my Love, no more?

ELEGY. To a Friend, describing the horrors of his situation

after the death of Julia.

FRIEND of my bosom, all my joys are o’er-

Peace, gentle Peace, alas! no longer mine: Since Julia, once my idol, lives no more,

To gloom and solitude I steal to pine.

There, as I sit upon the sod, and sigh,

I hear reproof from every happy dove; In fancy's ear they, cooing, seem to cry,

“We know not of inconstancy in love."

Lo, darkness, tenfold darkness suits my soul!

The haunts of spectres let me court to weep; The beach where black with fate the billows roll,

And tempests raise the thunders of the DEEP.

Thou tellest me that Time a balm will bring,

Soothe ev'ry sigh, and calm my keenest woes :) Go, seek in winter's wild the blooms of spring;

Go, whisper to the restless surge, repose !

Love, injur'd Love, a sure revenge can boast; Love hears my groan, and mocks my

soul's despair:

[lost; “ Bleed, Victim, bleed,” he cries—“thy all is

“Such be their portion who deceive the Fair!"

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