by J.A.
Originally published in The Literary Chronicle and Weekly Review (J. Sidebetmem) vol.1 #18 (18 Sep 1819).
O, when from friendship's gentle sway
Love steals the willing heart away,
And makes it all his own;
Then offers his full cup of bliss,
To our parch'd lips,—how sad it is
That Fate should dash it down!
When Fortune frowns upon the pair
Whom Love would join, the blasts of care
Their budding hopes destroy;
In vain they sigh—in vain they gaze—
In vain the ardent prayer they raise,—
They mourn a ravish'd joy.
Lost is that unembarrass'd mien,
Gone is that confidence serene,
Which friendship ever knows;
While stoic prudence, cruel form,
Makes actions cold, where hearts are warm,
And kindle's 'love's repose.'
Thus, dearest Emma, have we far'd;
We share no more, what once we shar'd,
Communion sweet and free;
Friendship cannot be our's again,
Till join'd in Hymen's holy chain,
And will that ever be?
Hence, horrifying dark despair!
Go—straiten out thy matted hair,
Thy countenance compose;
Behold where Hope, with sparkling eye,
Points us to fair futurity,
To seek our 'love's repose!'
June 6th,