The heart of a mistress some boy may estrange, Friendship shifts with the sunbeam--thou never canst change; Thou grow'st old--who does not?--but on earth what appears, Whose virtues, like thine, still increase with its years? 5. Yet if blest to the utmost that Love can bestow, Should a rival bow down to our idol below, We are jealous!--who's not?--thou hast no such alloy; For the more that enjoy thee, the more we enjoy. 6. Then the season of youth and its vanities past, For refuge we fly to the goblet at last; There we find--do we not?--in the flow of the soul, That truth, as of yore, is confined to the bowl. 7. When the box of Pandora was open'd on earth, And Misery's triumph commenc'd over Mirth, Hope was left,--was she not?--but the goblet we kiss, And care not for Hope, who are certain of bliss. 8. Long life to the grape! for when summer is flown, The age of our nectar shall gladden our own: We must die--who shall not?--May our sins be forgiven, And Hebe shall never be idle in Heaven. [First published, 1809.] [Footnote i: 'Song'. ['Imit. and Transl'., p. 204.] STANZAS TO A LADY, ON LEAVING ENGLAND. [i] 1. Tis done--and shivering in the gale The bark unfurls her snowy sail; And whistling o'er the bending mast, Loud sings on high the fresh'ning blast; And I must from this land be gone, Because I cannot love but one. 2. But could I be what I have been, And could I see what I have seen-- Could I repose upon the breast Which once my warmest wishes blest-- I should not seek another zone, Because I cannot love but one. 3. 'Tis long since I beheld that eye Which gave me bliss or misery; And I have striven, but in vain, Never to think of it again: For though I fly from Albion, I still can only love but one. 4. As some lone bird, without a mate, My weary heart is desolate; I look around, and cannot trace One friendly smile or welcome face, And ev'n in crowds am still alone, Because I cannot love but one. 5. And I will cross the whitening foam, And I will seek a foreign home; Till I forget a false fair face, I ne'er shall find a resting-place; My own dark thoughts I cannot shun, But ever love, and love but one. 6. The poorest, veriest wretch on earth Still finds some hospitable hearth, Where Friendship's or Love's softer glow May smile in joy or soothe in woe; But friend or leman I have none, [ii] Because I cannot love but one. 7. I go--but wheresoe'er I flee There's not an eye will weep for me; There's not a kind congenial heart, Where I can claim the meanest part; Nor thou, who hast my hopes undone, Wilt sigh, although I love but one. 8. To think of every early scene, Of what we are, and what we've been, Would whelm some softer hearts with woe-- But mine, alas! has stood the blow; Yet still beats on as it begun, And never truly loves but one. 9.