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Mary, adieu! I must away:
While thou art blest I'll not repine;
But near thee I can never stay;
My heart would soon again be thine.
I deemed that time, I deemed that pride
Had quenched at length my boyish flamė;
Nor knew, till seated by thy side,
My heart in all, save hope, the same.
Yet was I calm: I knew the time
My breast would thrill before thy look ;
But now to tremble were a crime
We met, and not a nerve was shook.
One only feeling could'st thou trace;
The sullen calmness of despair.
Away! away! my early dream
Remembrance never must awake:
Oh! where is Lethe's fabled stream?
My foolish heart be still, or break.
From the Portuguese.
In moments to delight devoted,
- My life!” with tend'rest tone, you cry; Dear words! on which my heart had doted,
If youth could neither fade nor die. To death even hours like these must roll,
Ah! then repeat those accents never; Or change “my life!” into “my soul!"
Which, like my love, exists for ever.
Impromptu, in Reply to a Friend.
When from the heart where Sorrow sits,
Her dusky shadow mounts too high, And o'er the changing aspect flits,
And clouds the brow, or fills the eye;
Heed not that gloom, which soon shall sink:
My thoughts their dungeon know too well; Back to my breast the wanderers shrink,
And droop within their silent cell.
Address, spoken at the opening of Drury-lane Thea
tre, Saturday, October 10th, 1812.
In one dread night our city saw, and sighed,
Ye who beheld, (oh! sight admired and mourned, Whose radiance mocked the ruin it adorned!) Through clouds of fire, the massy fragments riven, Like Israel's pillar, chase the night from heaven;