1797.-----PROXIMITY OF THE BELOVED ONE.
Loved one, without thee, what then would all feast be?
Nature, thou ever budding one,Thou formest each for life's enjoyments,And, like a mother, all thy children dear,Blessest with that sweet heritage,--a homeThe swallow builds the cornice round,Unconscious of the beautiesShe plasters up.The caterpillar spins around the bough,To make her brood a winter house;And thou dost patch, between antiquity'sMost glorious relics,For thy mean use,Oh man, a humble cot,--Enjoyest e'en mid tombs!--Farewell, thou happy woman!
Ah, the word whose sound can straight
She feels the awful pangs inside her,Herself to slay endeavours she,
His neighbour answered: "Friend, you're right!Matters look very had to-night.Let's go a street or two, though, hence,And gaze upon the stars from thence."--No change appears in either case.Let each remain then in his place,And wisely do the best he can,Patient as any other man.
1789.*-----THE WANDERER'S NIGHT-SONG.
Who treat by day their true loves ill,And, with foolhardy daring, crawl