TO A LADY.
With Falkner's "Shipwreck."
Ah! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams,
In arched groves, the youthful poet's choice;
Nor while half-list'ning, mid delicious dreams,
To harp and song from lady's hand and voice;
Nor yet while gazing in sublimer mood
On cliff, or cataract, in alpine dell;
Nor in dim cave with bladdery sea-weed strew'd,
Framing wild fancies to the ocean's swell;
Our sea-bard sang this song! which still he sings,
And sings for thee, sweet friend! Hark, Pity, hark!
Now mounts, now totters on the Tempest's wings,
Now groans, and shivers, the replunging Bark!
"Cling to the shrowds!" In vain! The breakers roar—
Death shrieks! With two alone of all his clan,
Forlorn the poet paced the Grecian shore,
No classic roamer, but a ship-wreck'd man!
Say then, what muse inspir'd these genial strains,
And lit his spirit to so bright a flame?
The elevating thought of suffer'd pains,
Which gentle hearts shall mourn; but chief, the name
Of Gratitude! Remembrances of Friend,
Or absent or no more! Shades of the Past,
Which Love makes Substance! Hence to thee I send,
O dear as long as life and memory last!
I send with deep regards of heart and head,
Sweet maid, for friendship form'd! this work to thee:
And thou, the while thou can'st not choose but shed
A tear for Falkner, wilt remember me!