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Lines to one who will scarcely understand them.
And little did the heartless crew
That clung around us, think how dear, This heart was ever priz'd by you,
Or yours was ever treasured here.
Oh, may it, dearest, still be thus,
Though some our blameless love condemn ;
And though the false-false-hearted friend,
To sate his envious treachery;
We will but smile at all his arts,
Even when the cloud of malice lours,—
To one who will scarcely comprehend them.
Thy fraudful words, so full of guile,
Thy hand in seeming friendship given, Oh, there is malice in that smile,
Would bar an Angel's flight to Heav'n!
That cold, unmeaning smile, that seems
But lent to hide the gloom beneath, As fall the cold moon's cheerless beams Upon the sepulchre of death!
But hence-my feeling should be o'er,
My pride of heart-which long bath borne me,
If, wasting one expression more,
I paus'd to tell how much I scorn thee!
My spirit must be low indeed,
Parting Lines to
When late, depressed by slight and wrong,
I fed-but still thy malice strove,
From him she would not-could not slight.
No, for that Angel heart is mine
Though thou and thine may call it sin,--
Then let thy well-dissembled hate
Invent-contrive-imagine ill ;-
My spirit shall despise thee still.
And from its towering height shall look
PARTING LINES TO
Yes, dearest, we part-though the anguish of years
Than here be the cause of disunion and strife.
I would not that those whom I hate and despise,
No, sooner the foot of the stranger shall tread
Oh, no, for so deeply I treasure thy fame,
So dear to my heart is that worth I have known, That, sooner than malice should darken thy name, I would fly thee for ever-unfriended and lone!
Stanzas to the Memory of a departed Friend.
Farrewell then, my own one!-the days that are past
And think not, my lost one, thou ever wilt be
Less dear to me now than in moments of bliss ; In the days of my glory I thought upon theeShould my spirit forget thee in moments like this?
To the Memory of an absent Friend.
For his heart was pure, and his spirit high,
To mark the proud course of the human mind,
And passion awoke a secret flame,
From the friends he loved in his days of pride,
And her who could still adore him,
How sleepless and slowly the night passes over
With him, the poor wretch, of misfortune the sport; Who wanders, a homeless and fortuneless rover,
O'er the waste of that world which denies him support;
The Kiss. Stanzas to
How bitter the tear through his eyelash that gushes,
And he feels that his heart is with sorrow alone!
Oh! slowly and sleepless his night passes over:
Yet with morn is the close of his wretchedness near?
Around his low couch, still resound in his ear :-
When the friend whom I loved and had cherish'd,
Thy form in my heart was enshrin'd-
With a pure and a passionless mind.
When the ties of affection were broken,
To the spot which thy presence had blest;
In sorrow, thou ever wert near me,—
Thy home is far distant from mine,—
I met thee encircled by many
The young and the fair that we call ; Yet to me thou wert dearer than any, For I saw thee superior to all.
I gazed on thee silent and lonely,
Where rank, wealth, and beauty were mix'd,But still upon me--and me only, Thy blue eye was constantly fix'd.