To Henry Written to a Russian Air

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

Potent over love and me.