Fair didst thou shine upon my earlier hours! I hail'd with smiles the cheering rays of Morn, My breast by no tumultuous Passion torn-- Now hateful are thy beams which wake no more The sense of joy which thrill'd my breast before; Welcome thou cloudy veil of nightly skies, To thy bright canopy the mourner flies: Once bright, thy Silence lull'd my frame to rest, And Sleep my soul with gentle visions blest; Now wakeful Grief disdains her mild controul, Dark is the night, but darker is my Soul. Ye warring Winds of Heav'n your fury urge, To me congenial sounds your wintry Dirge: Swift as your wings my happier days have past, Keen as your storms is Sorrow's chilling blast; To Tempests thus expos'd my Fate has been, Piercing like yours, like yours, alas! unseen. 1805. [Footnote 1: From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first time printed. (See 'Ossian's Poems', London, 1819, pp. xvii. 119.)] PIGNUS AMORIS. [1] 1 As by the fix'd decrees of Heaven, 'Tis vain to hope that Joy can last; The dearest boon that Life has given, To me is--visions of the past. 2. For these this toy of blushing hue I prize with zeal before unknown, It tells me of a Friend I knew, Who loved me for myself alone. 3. It tells me what how few can say Though all the social tie commend; Recorded in my heart 'twill lay, [2] It tells me mine was once a Friend. 4. Through many a weary day gone by, With time the gift is dearer grown; And still I view in Memory's eye That teardrop sparkle through my own. 5. And heartless Age perhaps will smile, Or wonder whence those feelings sprung; Yet let not sterner souls revile, For Both were open, Both were young. 6. And Youth is sure the only time, When Pleasure blends no base alloy; When Life is blest without a crime, And Innocence resides with Joy. 7 Let those reprove my feeble Soul, Who laugh to scorn Affection's name; While these impose a harsh controul, All will forgive who feel the same. 8 Then still I wear my simple toy, With pious care from wreck I'll save it; And this will form a dear employ For dear I was to him who gave it. ? 1806. [Footnote 1: From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first time printed.] [Footnote 2: For the irregular use of "lay" for "lie," compare "The Adieu" (st. 10, 1. 4, p. 241), and the much-disputed line, "And dashest him to earth--there let him lay" ('Childe Harold', canto iv. st. 180).] A WOMAN'S HAIR. [1] Oh! little lock of golden hue In gently waving ringlet curl'd, By the dear head on which you grew, I would not lose you for _a world_. Not though a thousand more adorn The polished brow where once you shone, Like rays which guild a cloudless sky [i] Beneath Columbia's fervid zone. 1806.