The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 22

Haply the little simple page, Which votive thus I've traced for thee, May now and then a look engage, And steal one moment's thought for me.

But, oh! in pity let not those Whose hearts are not of gentle mould, Let not the eye that seldom flows With feeling's tear, my song behold.

For, trust me, they who never melt With pity, never melt with love; And such will frown at all I've felt, And all my loving lays reprove.

But if, perhaps, some gentler mind, Which rather loves to praise than blame, Should in my page an interest find.

And linger kindly on my name;

Tell him--or, oh! if, gentler still, By female lips my name be blest: For where do all affections thrill So sweetly as in woman's breast?--

Tell her, that he whose loving themes Her eye indulgent wanders o'er, Could sometimes wake from idle dreams, And bolder flights of fancy soar;

That Glory oft would claim the lay, And Friends.h.i.+p oft his numbers move; But whisper then, that, "sooth to say, His sweetest song was given to Love!"

TO JULIA.

Though Fate, my girl, may bid us part, Our souls it cannot, shall not sever; The heart will seek its kindred heart, And cling to it as close as ever.

But must we, must we part indeed?

Is all our dream of rapture over?

And does not Julia's bosom bleed To leave so dear, so fond a lover?

Does _she_, too, mourn?--Perhaps she may; Perhaps she mourns our bliss so fleeting; But why is Julia's eye so gay, If Julia's heart like mine is beating?

I oft have loved that sunny glow Of gladness in her blue eye beaming-- But can the bosom bleed with woe While joy is in the glances beaming?

No, no!--Yet, love, I will not chide; Although your heart _were_ fond of roving, Nor that, nor all the world beside Could keep your faithful boy from loving.

You'll soon be distant from his eye, And, with you, all that's worth possessing.

Oh! then it will be sweet to die, When life has lost its only blessing!

TO .......

Sweet lady, look not thus again: Those bright, deluding smiles recall A maid remember'd now with pain, Who was my love, my life, my all!

Oh! while this heart bewildered took Sweet poison from her thrilling eye, Thus would she smile and lisp and look, And I would hear and gaze and sigh!

Yes, I did love her--wildly love-- She was her s.e.x's best deceiver!

And oft she swore she'd never rove-- And I was destined to believe her!

Then, lady, do not wear the smile Of one whose smile could thus betray; Alas! I think the lovely wile Again could steal my heart away.

For, when those spells that charmed my mind On lips so pure as thine I see, I fear the heart which she resigned Will err again and fly to thee!

NATURE'S LABELS.

A FRAGMENT.

In vain we fondly strive to trace The soul's reflection in the face; In vain we dwell on lines and crosses, Crooked mouth or short proboscis; b.o.o.bies have looked as wise and bright As Plato or the Stagirite: And many a sage and learned skull Has peeped through windows dark and dull.

Since then, though art do all it can, We ne'er can reach the inward man, Nor (howsoe'er "learned Thebans" doubt) The inward woman, from without, Methinks 'twere well if nature could (And Nature could, if Nature would) Some pithy, short descriptions write On tablets large, in black and white, Which she might hang about our throttles, Like labels upon physic-bottles; And where all men might read--but stay-- As dialectic sages say, The argument most apt and ample For common use is the example.

For instance, then, if Nature's care Had not portrayed, in lines so fair, The inward soul of Lucy Lindon.

_This_ is the label she'd have pinned on.

LABEL FIRST.

Within this form there lies enshrined The purest, brightest gem of mind.

Though Feeling's hand may sometimes throw Upon its charms the shade of woe, The l.u.s.tre of the gem, when veiled, Shall be but mellowed, not concealed.

Now, sirs, imagine, if you're able, That Nature wrote a second label, They're her own words--at least suppose so-- And boldly pin it on Pomposo.

LABEL SECOND.

When I composed the fustian brain Of this redoubted Captain Vain.

I had at hand but few ingredients, And so was forced to use expedients.

I put therein some small discerning, A grain of sense, a grain of learning; And when I saw the void behind, I filled it up with--froth and wind!

TO JULIA

ON HER BIRTHDAY.