no far fly from me attempts so vain,
I'll ne'er submission to my God refuse.

6.

Yet is remembrance of those virtues dear,
Yet fresh the memory of that beauteous face;
Still they call forth my warm affection's tear.
Such sorrow brings me honour, not disgrace.[4]

1802.

[Footnote 4: The Author claims the indulgence of the reader, more for
this piece, than, perhaps, any other in the collection; but as it was
written at an earlier period than the rest, (being composed at the
age of 14) and his first Essay, be preferred submitting it to the
indulgence of his friends in its present state, to making either
addition or alteration.]

* * * * *

TO D. ----

In thee, I fondly hop'd to clasp,
A friend whom death alone could sever,
But envy with malignant grasp,
Has torn thee from my breast for ever.

2.

True, she has forc'd thee from my _breast_,
But in my _heart_ thou keep'st thy seat;
There, there, thine image still must rest,
Until that heart shall cease to beat.

3.

And when the grave restores her dead,
When life again to dust is given,
On _thy dear_ breast I'll lay my head,
Without _thee_! _where_ would be _my Heaven?_

_February_, 1803.

* * * * *

TO ----

Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes,
Suffus'd in tears implore to stay;
And heard _unmov'd_, thy plenteous sighs,
Which said far more than words could say.

Though deep the grief, _thy_ tears exprest,
When love, and hope, lay _both_ o'erthrown,
Yet still, my girl, _this_ bleeding breast,
Throbb'd with deep sorrow, as _thine own_.

But when our cheeks with anguish glow'd,
When _thy_ sweet lips where join'd to mine;
The tears that from _my_ eye-lids flow'd,
Were lost in those which fell from _thine_.

Thou could'st not feel my burning cheek,
_Thy_ gushing tears had quench'd its flame,
And as thy tongue essay'd to speak,
In _sighs alone_ it breath'd my name.

And yet, my girl, we weep in vain,
In vain our fate in sighs deplore;
Remembrance only can remain,
But _that_, will make us weep the more.

Again, thou best belov'd, adieu!
Ah! if thou canst o'ercome regret,
Nor let thy mind past joys review,
Our only _hope_ is to _forget_.

1805.

* * * * *

TO CAROLINE.

You say you love, and yet your eye
No sym