Heaven from my heart such pangs remove, And let these feverish sufferings cease— These pains without the hope of love, These cares of friendship, not its peace! [DISILLUSIONED.] And wilt thou never smile again, Thy cruel purpose never shaken? Hast thou no feeling for my pain, Refused, disdain’d, despised, forsaken? Thy uncle crafty, careful, cold, His wealth upon my mind imprinted; His fields described, and praised his fold, And jested, boasted, promised, hinted. Thy aunt—I scorn’d the omen—spoke Of lovers by thy scorn rejected; 10 But I the warning never took, When chosen, cheer’d, received, rejected. Thy brother, too—but all was plann’d To murder peace, all freely granted; And then I lived in fairy land, Transported, bless’d, enrapt, enchanted. Oh, what a dream of happy love, From which the wise in time awaken; While I must all its anguish prove, Deceived, despised, abused, forsaken! 20 [LINES] FROM A DISCARDED POEM, ENCLOSED, AT MRS LEADBEATER’S REQUEST, FOR THOMAS WILKINSON’S COLLECTION OF HANDWRITINGS. One calm, cold evening, when the moon was high, And rode sublime within the cloudy sky, She sat within her hut, nor seem’d to feel Or cold, or want, but turn’d her idle wheel; And with sad song its melancholy tone Mix’d—all unconscious that she dwelt alone. ON THE DEATH OF SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. (Hampstead, November 6, 1818.) * * * * * “Thus had I written—so a friend advised, Whom as the first of counsellors I prized; The best of guides to my assuming pen, The best of fathers, husbands, judges, men. ‘This will he read,’ I said, ‘and I shall hear } Opinion wise, instructive, mild, sincere; } For I that mind respect, for I the man revere.’ } “I had no boding fear, but thought to see Those who were thine, who look’d for all to thee; And thou wert all! there was, when thou wert by, 10 Diffused around the rare felicity That wisdom, worth, and kindness can impart, To form the mind and gratify the heart. “Yes! I was proud to speak of thee as one Who had approved the little I had done, And taught me what I should do!—Thou wouldst raise My doubting spirit by a smile of praise And words of comfort! great was thy delight } Fear to expel, and ardour to excite, } To wrest th’ oppressor’s arm, and do the injured right. 20} “Thou hadst the tear for pity, and thy breast Felt for the sad, the weary, the oppress’d! And now, afflicting change! all join with me, And feel, lamented ROMILLY, for thee.” LINES. (Edinburgh, August 15, 1822.)