Selections from the Letters of Cornwallis; Also Some Unpublished Poems, Original and Translated. and an Appendix, Containing Philosophical Theories a - Softcover

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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1864. Excerpt: ... Poems: Original and Translated. 355 XI. Yet love we less, because the swelling heart Dares not its inward motions to reveal? Or feel we less, because with anxious art We blind the world, and would not seem to feel? Oh, no! with eagerer hand will memory steal Fancy's bright pencil each past scene to deck, And every feeling we would still conceal Rises triumphant o'er such useless check, Like waves that first assault, then foam above the wreck. xn. Oh, give me back the glance of living fire That flashed beneath Italia's sun-burnt brows; The liquid voice that mocked the attendant lyre, As the gay peasant breathed his laughing vows; Or the mad Florentine, from wild carouse. Reeled to his home, and carolled as he went--Or bade on Arno's shores the echoes rouse, Till back from Pisa's palaced streets was sent The long-rebounding strain of waning merriment. XIII. Sweet were it then through olive-groves to roam, Nor pause to think if time had woes in store; Call every spot where shone the sun, my home, And dive in that dark ocean's depths no more: Nor ask what passed on Albion's frozen shore, Content that I could live and trifle here, Or when I parted, and the jest was o'er. See the dark eye shine brighter through a tear--That dearest pledge of all, even there, where all was dear. XIV. Fair were those scenes--too fair, for I must now With lingering weariness their price repay; Rest on the listless hand the aching brow, And through long months behold the lonely day Wear in unprofitable thought away; Save when past hours come o'er my soul again, Like the last gleam of summer's evening ray, More lovely, but alas! more cold than when I moved, all sunny life, among my fellow-men, xv. And roused the flash of wit, or bade each tongue Pour its deep lore in calmer, gentler...

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