Forget this world, my restless sprite, Turn, turn thy thoughts to Heaven: There must thou soon direct thy flight, If errors are forgiven. To bigots and to sects unknown, Bow down beneath the Almighty's Throne; To Him address thy trembling prayer: He, who is merciful and just, Will not reject a child of dust, Although His meanest care. 12. Father of Light! to Thee I call; My soul is dark within: Thou who canst mark the sparrow's fall, Avert the death of sin. Thou, who canst guide the wandering star Who calm'st the elemental war, Whose mantle is yon boundless sky, My thoughts, my words, my crimes forgive; And, since I soon must cease to live, Instruct me how to die. [iii] 1807. [First published, 1832.] [Footnote 1: Harrow. ] [Footnote 2: Mrs. Pigot's Cottage.] [Footnote 3: The river Grete, at Southwell.] [Footnote 4: Mary Chaworth.] [Footnote 5: Compare the verses on "The Cornelian," p. 66, and "Pignus Amoris," p. 231.] [Footnote 6: See note to "Pignus Amoris," st. 3, l. 3, p. 232.] [Footnote i: '--ye regal Towers'. ['MS. Newstead'.] ] [Footnote ii: 'The gift I wear'. ['MS. Newstead'.]] [Footnote iii: 'And since I must forbear to live, Instruct me how to die.' ['MS. Newstead'] TO----[1] 1. Oh! well I know your subtle Sex, Frail daughters of the wanton Eve,-- While jealous pangs our Souls perplex, No passion prompts you to relieve. 2 From Love, or Pity ne'er you fall, By _you_, no mutual Flame is felt, "Tis Vanity, which rules you all, Desire alone which makes you melt. 3 I will not say no _souls_ are yours, Aye, ye have Souls, and dark ones too, Souls to contrive those smiling lures, To snare our simple hearts for you. 4 Yet shall you never bind me fast, Long to adore such brittle toys, I'll rove along, from first to last, And change whene'er my fancy cloys. 5 Oh! I should be a _baby_ fool, To sigh the dupe of female art-- Woman! perhaps thou hast a _Soul_, But where have _Demons_ hid thy _Heart_? January, 1807. [Footnote 1: From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first time printed.] ON THE EYES OF MISS A----H----[1] Anne's Eye is liken'd to the _Sun_, From it such Beams of Beauty fall; And _this_ can be denied by none, For like the _Sun_, it shines on _All_. Then do not admiration smother, Or say these glances don't become her; To _you_, or _I_, or _any other_ Her _Sun_, displays perpetual Summer. [2] January 14, 1807. [Footnote 1: Miss Anne Houson. From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first time printed.] [Footnote 2: Compare, for the same simile, the lines "To Edward Noel Long, Esq.," p. 187, 'ante'.] TO A VAIN LADY. [1] 1 Ah, heedless girl! why thus disclose What ne'er was meant for other ears; Why thus destroy thine own repose, And dig the source of future tears? 2