Poems.

FRAGMENTS.

[Loud rav'd the rav'ning storm ! it came­it past]

Loud rav'd the rav'ning storm ! it came­it past, And Angels trembled at the ruthless blast ; Yes, angels wept to view the wreck of mind, To mark each rent the tempest left behind ; To count each fall'n column that once grac'd The noble fabric, now alas ! defac'd Oh ye wild winds ! that ride on murd'rous wing ! Ye wizard pow'rs, that nip creation's spring ! Ye billowy clouds that veil the lamp of Heav'n, And o'er the bland expanse are rudely driv'n ! No longer boast your desolating sway, While Passion's storm shall wreck the Mind's fair day ;

Tear with wild hand each flow'r by honour sown, And with mad haste hurl reason from her throne. Was it for this that Nature's nicest art, Wove the fine fibres of the feeling heart ? Was it for this that Wisdom's piercing ray, Bright as the radiant star that heralds day, Held each wild thought beneath its strong control, And reign'd the Guardian Planet of the soul ? And must I think it ? Must the magic‐spell, Whose 'witching pow'r no mortal tongue can tell ; Must ev'ry charm that fancy lov'd to trace, Fade like a night‐dream from her mock'd embrace ?

[Fair Lady, why that sadden'd eye]

Fair Lady, why that sadden'd eye, And why that pale and quiv'ring lip ? But late I mark'd its vivid die, And thought the Gods its dew might sip.

And why that blanch'd dejected cheek, Whence Spring so late her roses hung ; Why do my glances vainly seek, The grace that dwelt thy smiles among ?

Alas ! that eye, that languid eye Was wont to dart enam'ring fire ; Oft have I seen its sparkles fly, To bid a wond'ring world admire.

Say, is it Love that dims its ray, That veils in gloom its world of light ? Say, is it Passion's tyrant sway, That shrouds each dazzling beam in night ?

Or has thy gentle, trusting breast, Believed the smile that Friendship wore ; Oh ! hast thou lull'd each doubt to rest, Till Reason bade thee doubt no more.

If Love it be that wakes the sigh, And banishes thy bosom's calm ! If Love it be that fades thine eye, And bids his wand thy smiles disarm ;­

Break, break the spell,­the silken chain That holds thy weak and passive mind ; Throw off thy bonds with proud disdain, And leave thy fears and griefs behind.

And Friendship­oh ! the empty name ! Learn to distrust her blandest smile, Think that it “follows Wealth and Fame,” And flatters only to beguile.

Then Lady shall thy languid eye, Again dart forth enam'ring fire, Then shall its sparkles gaily fly, To bid a wond'ring world admire

[What is Pleasure ?­'tis a bubble]

What is Pleasure ?­'tis a bubble, Fill'd with empty froth and wind ; Leading on to care and trouble, Leaving many a sting behind.

What is Hope ? Ah ! 'tis a Siren, Who enamours to destroy ; Cunning wiles her form environ, Mischief revels in her eye.

What is Reason ?­'tis a taper, Passion's gust too oft puts out ! 'Tis a thin and wand'ring vapour, Blown by storms of Thought about.

What is Fortune ? She's a gipsey, Who delights in odd mistakes ; Oft I think the Jade is tipsey, Such a blundering she makes.

What is Love ?­an idle méteor [sic] Playing round the cheated heart, Dancing o'er each conscious feature, Spreading wide th' amusive smart.

What is Friendship ?­'tis a cov'ring, Art puts on to safer cheat, O'er its victim kite‐like hov'ring, While its looks are soft and sweet.

[When lately I mus'd on the days that are fled]

When lately I mus'd on the days that are fled, And dwelt on the friendships that now are no more, When I thought of that form whose bright tints are now dead, And wept o'er the charms I had worship'd before :

'Twas then that a voice seem'd to swell on my soul, I listen'd­and Fancy the cadence renew'd ; Through the silence of Nature its melody stole, And thus the rich descant its warbling pursu'd.

Why lingers the tear on thy care‐furrow'd cheek, Why bursts from thy bosom the languishing sigh ? Oh ! what does thy wandering memory seek, Or what does she shew to thy sorrowing eye ?

How wild is the theme that remembrance pours, How worthless the visions she spreads to thy view ; Thou fool ! to still linger o'er time‐faded hours, And turn from the joys that are glitt'ring and new.

Why dwell on the smile now its lustre is flown ? Why muse on those friendships that mellow'd the past ! Ah ! both should be valued and cherish'd alone, So long as their gloss and their newness shall last.

Then blot from the tablet of fancy, oh ! blot The relics of all that has flatter'd or sooth'd ; Be the accents of kindness and sweetness forgot, Be the page that they dwell in no longer perused.