Poems; [manuscript] /; by the late Baroness Ferdinand Hompesch.

12

For now the dark brow'd Tempest clouds the skies, Wild Whirlwinds o'er the Sea tempestuous roar; In all its forms Death meets his fearful eyes, Ah! see- that wave! he sinks, to rise no more.-

Thus smiles Lifes early morn when fancy cheats, Hopes magic pencil paints the lively scene; And still the charmful fluttering song repeats, And artful veils the Woes that rise between.

Sudden! in unresisted rage they come, Hope sprouts her many color'd wings and flies; Slaves to Despair, we meet at once our doom, And thrown from Happiness, no more we rise.-

Carisbrook Castle Sep 22d 1795

Ye solemn Towers, majestic Ruins hail! As near your waste magnificence I rove, I hear wild Fancy's voice upon the gale, And Fancy fills with shades the dark brown grove.

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13

Deck'd by her fair fantastic hand I view, The deeds of other times, when Valour frown'd, Again days long forgotten I renew, And Beauty smiles, and Warriors throng around.

I see thy heavy cum'brous gates unbarred, While Music's gayest measures fill the air, By thronging Vassals quick the feast prepared, And Knights in varied dances lead the Fair.

But ah! too soon another scene appears, Beneath yon ivyd turret low reclined, A mournful silent Form, alone in tears, Weeps his deep Woes to sorrow all resign'd.

'Tis not the [?] Diadem he mourns, 'Tis not even Libertys extatic joy, 'Tis the sweet hour which now no more returns, When bliss domestic did his days employ.

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14

When filial Duty smooth'd the brow of care, And Love chased Grief, e'er from a Monarch's breast, When far around his Friends his favors shared, And Pleasure smiled, and Happiness carest.

Now sad reverse, a captive Man! to those, Who owed him firm Allegiance, love, respect, While to embitter his severest woes, His Foes insult him, and his Friends neglect.

But Hope a faint a transient gleam displays, See from the height he casts an eager eye, Below the long, long wish'd conveyance stays, Fly Charles! thy hoped deliverance is nigh.

Alas! ill fated Man! in vain they come, Thy watchful Ennemies no arts deceive, Thy rash attempt but ratifies thy doom, The Doom which England must forever grieve.