To Henry.

TO HENRY.

HOW I hail this morn's appearing! It will thee, my love, restore: Safety danger past endearing, Sure we meet to part no more!

Fame is thine, lo! crowds aver it, And her smile is dear to thee; But I charge thee, don't prefer it E'er again to home and me.

Thou, thy country's call obeying, Hast her battles nobly fought; And, thy ready zeal repaying, See, she gives the laurels sought.

But have I no claims, my rover? Claims as fondly dear to thee? Yes, O yes! and, wandering over, Thou wilt rest with love and me.

Ha! methinks, thy glances reading, From thine eyes my fate I know; Duty still love's claim impeding, Thou again must seek the foe.

Of my fears too dread revival! Yet, with tearful joy I see, Duty is the only rival Potent over love and me.