Felicia Hemans

“ Which fires the youthful hero to renown!
And if thy soldier shall return to thee,
And bring the laurel-wreath of victory,
Ah! let the tribute of thy praise impart,
The dearest pleasure of my glowing heart.
And should I fall—oh! be my glorious grave
Crown'd with the patriot-honours of the brave. ”

“ To watch the twilight spread a gentle veil
Of melting shadows o'er the grassy dale,
To view the smile of evening on the sea;
Ah! these are pleasures ever dear to me.
To wander with the melancholy muse,
Where waving trees their pensive shade diffuse. ”

“ Yet ah! the tints of Autumn bring,
A fading charm, a soft farewell.
Dear Autumn! as thy sober hues
Adorn the scene with shadowy grace;
A mellow beauty they diffuse,
Which pensive pleasure loves to trace. ”

“ When youthful transport led the hours,
And all my way was bright with flowers,
Ah! then my harp, thy dulcet note,
To songs of joy would lightly float;
To thee I sung in numbers wild,
Of hope and love who gaily smil'd. ”

“ Come, let us hail the vernal smile of morn,
Delightful hour, inspiring to the muse;
The redbreast warbles on the budding thorn,
And every blossom shines in pearly dews.
With mantling woodbine every hedge is crown'd ”

“ Those wounds her mother made: divinely kind,
Into each troubled heart she pours her balm,
And brings the mind a transitory calm.
But both are mortal; and when fades the earth,
The nymph shall die, with her who gave her birth ”

“ When evening spreads around her twilight veil;
When dews descend on every languid flower,
And sweet and tranquil is the summer gale.
Then let me wander by the peaceful tide,
While o'er the wave the breezes lightly play ”

“ SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF LORD NELSON.
While British hearts with noble ardour glow,
Warm with the genuine spirit of the brave;
Ah! still a grateful tear of joy must flow,
The sacred tribute o'er a hero's grave. ”

“ Inspires my bosom, and invites my lay.
The sun meridian darting from on high,
Lights the gay scene, and brightens all the sky;
Soft rolls the glassy main; the lightsome breeze
Brings to my heart serenity and ease. ”

“ See the rainbow shines on high;
Mark the heavenly colours bright,
Ere they vanish from the sight.
Hark! the warblers gaily sing;
Sweet the melodies of spring;
When the youthful heart at ease,
Bids the native music please. ”

“ SONNET, TO MY MOTHER.
To thee, maternal guardian of my youth,
I pour the genuine numbers free from art;
The lays inspir'd by gratitude and truth,
For thou wilt prize th' effusion of the heart.
Oh! ”

“ There love and friendship bless'd the festive hour,
While every rural happiness was mine.
Ah! thus will "sadly-pleasing" memory dwell
On all the hopes, the fond illusions o'er;
And still with touching power she loves to tell,
Of happy moments to return no more. ”

“ May court the dreams of fancy with delight;
And dear to those by every muse inspir'd,
The rural landscape, and the prospect fair;
They love in mountain solitudes retir'd,
To own illusions that may banish care. ”

“ This day let pleasure smile on every face,
And beam in every eye with sprightly grace;
Let artless joy the flowing lay inspire,
And sweet affection consecrate the lyre.
And see! all nature smiles around ”

“ He mark'd the tender stem arise,
Till ripen'd by the glowing skies;
And now matur'd, his work behold,
The cheering harvest waves in gold.
To nature's God with joy we raise
The grateful song, the hymn of praise. ”

“ I love the placid moonlight hour,
The lustre of the shadowy ray;
'Tis then I seek the dewy bower,
And tune the wild expressive lay;
While echo from the woods around,
Prolongs the softly dying sound. ”

“ Oh! be this day for ever blest;
I hail it with my gayest measure;
And may thy sympathetic breast
Enjoy affection, love, and pleasure.
And if thy heart should ever mourn,
May friendship soothe the anxious sorrow ”

“ Then her eye with pleasure beaming,
She trips along the sylvan glade.
She loves to sing in accents soft,
When the wood-lark soars aloft;
She loves to wake the sprightly horn,
And swell the joyful note to celebrate the morn! ”

“ Sweet bard! 'twas thine to soar on high,
With inspiration and the muse;
To claim from beauty's radiant eye
⁠Compassion's dews;
To raise the smile of social glee,
The patriot's manly heart to fire ”

“ She warns us to employ the hours,
In gathering stores from learning's flowers;
For these will ever last:
These mental charms will fill the place
Of every beauty, every grace,
When smiling youth is past. ”

“ The muse shall breathe a native lay,
And sweetly consecrate the day;
While Anna by the power of truth
Leads on our emulative youth;
While each young virtue of the heart,
To her a rapture can impart. ”

“ While Hope, the syren fair and gay,
Tells of some future happy day,
Let Pleasure with benignant power,
The empress of the social hour,
Smile on the day to love so dear,
And smile more softly thro' a tear. ”

“ To thee the breeze of airy sigh
Shall waft my thrilling melody;
Thy soul the cadence wild shall meet,
The song of gratitude is sweet.
And at the pensive close of day,
When landscape-colours fade away,
Ah! ”

“ With visions of felicity!
Ah! when real joys are o'er,
And love and peace delight no more,
Then thy melting syren-voice
Bids the pensive mind rejoice.
Ah! thy dreams are too beguiling;
Ah! thy prospect is too smiling. ”

“ In concert with the dashing stream;
Then my music leads the dance,
When the gentle fays advance;
And oft my numbers on the green,
Lull to rest the fairy queen.
"All my life is joy and pleasure,
"Sportive as my airy measure." ”

“ And moisten every leaf with balmy dew;
But now thy rich luxuriant bloom is fled,
Thy foliage wears a pale autumnal hue;
Too soon thy glowing colours have decay'd,
Like thee the flowers of pleasure smile and fade. ”

“ Where buried friends of sacred memory sleep.
The wandering harper, too, in plaintive lays,
Declares the glory of departed days;
And, Cambria, still upon thy fertile plains,
The power of hospitality remains. ”

“ While our hearts with frolic pleasure,
Vibrate to the dulcet measure;
We will bless thy soothing power,
Sweet and pensive moonlight hour.
By the soft expressive sigh
We breathe to mournful melody ”

“ Illume thy mind with sacred rays,
And ever be thy heavenly guide.
For thee I breathe an artless prayer,
To Heaven that prayer addressing.
May all thy life be free from care,
Enrich'd with every blessing. ”

“ Dispels the darkling clouds of night,
The sun in gold and purple drest,
Illumines all adown the east;
The sky-lark flies on soaring wings,
And as he mounts to heav'n, thus sings;
"Arise, ye slothful mortals, rise! ”

“ In life's young morn, with fairy wiles,
Hope cheats the soul, and Fancy smiles;
They lull with flattering dreams of joy,
Ah! why must truth the dreams destroy?
Those halcyon days too soon are past,
The lovely visions will not last ”

“ In heaven a happy, happy seat I find.
"Mourn not for me—'tis you I mourn for now;
"I soar on high, while you remain below.
"In heaven we all at length shall meet again,
"Where all is happiness, all free from pain. ”

“ But ah! how short our festal morn,
How soon our spring is fled;
Those golden days no more return;
The fairest flowers conceal a thorn;
The path of life we tread.
Some wander thro' a rugged way,
Forsaken and opprest ”

“ Clad in all their brightest green,
This day the verdant fields are seen;
The tuneful birds begin their lay,
To celebrate thy natal day.
The breeze is still, the sea is calm,
And the whole scene combines to charm ”

“ Pilgrim, view this mossy dell,
View the woodland hermit's cell;
And if thou love the rustic scene,
And love to court the muse serene;
If virtue to thy soul be dear,
And sometimes melancholy's tear ”

“ For pity's melting tenderness is thine.
Thine is the harp of wild expressive tone,
‘Tis thine to touch it with entrancing art;
Till all thy numbers vibrate on the heart,
And sympathy delights thy powers to own. ”

“ The smiling vale is Cambria's pride,
There hospitality remains;
There peace and elegance reside,
And seek the mansions of the plains.
Oh! still may cultivation's hand
Enrich the garden of the land ”

“ For this the hour, as poets tell,
That oft they leave the flowery cell,
And lead the sportive dance along,
While spirits pour the choral song.
The moonbeam sheds a lustre pale,
And trembles on the distant sail ”

“ All that fabling poets tell
Of the Goddesses divine,
The Graces, or the Sister Nine;
Native elegance refin'd,
Lovely person, lovely mind:
To these add candour, pity, truth,
All that can embellish youth. ”

“ Oh! halcyon Youth, delightful hours,
When not a cloud of sorrow lowers;
When every moment wings its flight,
To waft new joy and new delight.
Kind, unsuspecting, and sincere,
Youth knows no pang, no jealous fear ”

“ That happy spirits round him play,
And animate the magic lay:
Their floating forms his fancy sees,
And hears their music in the breeze.
Then, while the airy numbers die,
He wakes his sweetest harmony ”

“ Ah! you thoughtless cruel boy,
'Tis all your pleasure to destroy;
Fairer was my blushing rose,
Than any fragrant flower that blows.
Already, lo! it droops and dies,
And all its lovely crimson flies. ”

“ For still, inspir'd by soft affection's glow,
Or true to melting gratitude sincere,
"Warm from the heart," my native measures flow,
Unknown to fame, yet still to friendship dear.
Fair patroness of my untutor'd strain,
Oh! if the numbers please thy feeling breast,
These wild effusions are not pour'd in vain,
My song is honor'd, and my muse is blest.
When early led by nature's charms divine,
My youthful vows to Poesy I paid ”

“ The glories of the summer sky.
Can pencil imitate the hue,
So soft, so delicate a blue?
Well I know thy life is short,
One transient hour of idle sport:
Enjoy that little halcyon hour,
And kiss each fair and fragrant flower ”

“ Seek her, and she is quickly found,
With never-fading olives crown'd.
Riches may fly within an hour,
Pale sickness wither beauty's flower,
Death may our dearest friendships sever,
And rend the social tie for ever ”

“ Bring the lyre, and bring the lute,
Bring the sweetly-breathing flute;
Wreaths of cowslips hither bring,
All the honours of the spring;
Adorn the grot with all that's gay,
Fays and Fairies haste away. ”

“ The pencil's flowing graces to attain.
But when Instruction guides my roving feet,
To reach the Muse of Painting's lofty seat;
Where Genius learns in magic colours warm,
To join Expression's fire, and Beauty's form ”