My Lycus! wherefore dost thou weep? Thy falling tears restrain; Affection for a time may sleep, But, oh! 'twill wake again. Think, think, my friend, when next we meet, Our long-wish'd interview, how sweet! From this my hope of rapture springs; While youthful hearts thus fondly swell, Absence, my friend, can only tell, "Friendship is Love without his wings!" In one, and one alone deceived, Did I my error mourn? No--from oppressive bonds relieved, I left the wretch to scorn. I turn'd to those my childhood knew, With feelings warm, with bosoms true, Twined with my heart's according strings; And till those vital chords shall break, For none but these my breast shall wake Friendship, the power deprived of wings! Ye few! my soul, my life is yours, My memory and my hope; Your worth a lasting love insures, Unfetter'd in its scope; From smooth deceit and terror sprung With aspect fair and honey'd tongue, Let Adulation wait on kings; With joy elate, by snares beset, We, we, my friends, can ne'er forget "Friendship is Love without his wings!" Fictions and dreams inspire the bard Who rolls the epic song; Friendship and truth be my reward-- To me no bays belong; If laurell'd Fame but dwells with lies, Me the enchantress ever flies, Whose heart and not whose fancy sings; Simple and young, I dare not feign; Mine be the rude yet heartfelt strain, "Friendship is Love without his wings!" _December_, 1806. These early poems are well characterized by the impression which they produced upon Sir Robert Dallas, a man of taste and talent, who, though a bigot and a prey to prejudices of all kinds, hastened, nevertheless, after reading them, to compliment the author in the following words:--"Your poems are not only beautiful as compositions, but they also denote an honorable and upright heart, and one prone to virtue."