« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
As o'er the heath, amid his steel-clad thanes,
The royal Duncan rode in martial pride; Where full to view, high-topp'd with glittering vanes,
Macbeth's strong towers o'erhung the mountain's side.
Ia dusky mantle wrapp'd, a grizzly form
Rush'd with a giant's stride across his way, And thus, while howld around the rising storm,
In hollow thund’ring accents pour’d dismay.
Stop, O king! thy destin'd course,
Hear'st thou not the raven's croak ?
Lo, yon castle banners glare
Murder, like an eagle waits
prey ; Come not near-away! away!
Let not plighted faith beguile
Treason arm:d against thy life,
Now 'tis time, 'ere guilty night
On he goes !-resistless fate
Dr. Aikin, TO E. S*** D.
When shall I, my fair one, say,
“ And still shall beauty's fairy charm, 66 Breathe o'er
soul it's wanton fires; “ Still passion wake the fond alarm
“ Of trembling hopes, of wild desires.
“ O fly! thou dear delusive dream,
“ O hence! ye scenes, to fancy dear; “ No more I'll muse the love-lorn theme,
“ No more I'll drop the pensive tear.
“ Free as the light-wing’d airs of May
“ That wanton kiss each rosy sweet, “ I'll laugh the moments wild away,
“ And court loose pleasure's glitering seat.
“ The laugh, the song, and Bacchus' smile,
“ Shall give to joy the fleeting hour “ No more shall love, with secret guile,
“ Win a soft soul to beauty's power.”
Thus spoke the heart from passion free,
And wak'd my soul to fancied joy; . Hail once again lost liberty,
I dread no more th' idalian boy !
Ah me!-poor, weak, unguarded heart,
I feel return the sick'ning pain ; Yet, yet again the magic dart
Strikes with new force each throbbing vein.
And now again all sad, and slow
I wander thro' the moonlight grove, And strive to charm away my woe,
While echoes wild may lute of love.
“ Go gentle lute, with softest air
“ Breathe pity o'er my Delia's breast; Thy sound shall melt the passion’d fair, “ Her smile of love shall crown me blest.
“Go gentle lute, for Venus kind
“ Bids her wing*d boy thy music swell ; “ Then happier toa’d, breathe all my woes,
“ And all thy master's sorrows tell.
“ And sure the maid, whose tender eye
« Beams as the dewy star of eve, "Shall yield to love's soft harmony,
“And all my fondest vows believe.
“ Come golden hours, to fancy dear,
“Come hours by love, and Delia blest; “ Then let me lose each idle fear,
“When folded to her snowy breast.