Lines Upon Hearing Miss ---- Sing At An Evening Party. The Nightingales Complaint
John Carr (Sir)
The Moon had bespangled the murmuring wave,
The dew-drop had moisten'd the moss of the cave,
The summer night-breeze, like a sigh, was just heard,
When thus flow'd the strains of the dark-warbling bird:
"I hear a strange melody breathe thro' the grove,
Now swelling with joy, and now melting with love;
Tho' sweet is the sound, yet it should not invade,
Unbidden, my lonely dominion of shade.
"As long as the stars that now twinkle shall shine,
This willow's my throne, and all nature is mine:
Perchance 'tis the breeze on your desolate lute;
Its strings are now sighing, so long that were mute.
"Ah! no, silly bird that I am! shall I grieve?
Shall Envy alarm, and shall Folly deceive?
'Tis the voice of Eliza! I hear it again,
Enraptur'd I hear it, nor envy the strain."
Then Philomel flutter'd with tremulous wing
To Eliza - more happy to listen than sing!
(C) John Carr (sir)
03/10/2020
Best Poems of John Carr (Sir)
- Lines To Miss ---- ,
- An Indian Massacre-song.
- A Song. The Lover The Lute Of His Deceased Mistress.
- Epigram On The Grave Of Robespierre.
- Lines To Miss E. Atkinson, On Her Presenting The Author With An Irish Pebble.
- Impromptu Lines Upon A Very Handsome Woman Keeping The Hotel De Lion Blanc, At Dantzig.
- Lines To An Accomplished Young Lady,
- Song.
- Valentine Verses, Sent To My Young Friend, Miss Emma Trevelyan, Of Wallington-house, Northumberland.
- Verses On An Autumnal Leaf.
- Lines To A Robin.
- Lines Written In A Cottage By The Sea-side
- Lines Written Upon Seeing A Blind Young Woman In North Wales,
- Lines To Annette.
- Lines Written At Kilkenny, On The Theatricals Of That City.
- Lines To Health, Upon The Recovery Of A Friend From A Dangerous Illness.
- Song. The Words Adapted To "the Cossaka," One Of The Most Ancient Of The Russ Airs.
- Lines To The Memory Of Mrs. A.h. Holdsworth, Late Of Mount Galpin, Devonshire.
- Epigram On The Author And Eliza Frequently Differing In Opinion.
- Lines To Mrs. B ---- , At Bristol Hot Wells
- Jeu Desprit Upon A Very Pretty Woman Asking The Author His Opinion Of Beauty.