POETRY AND PICTURES THOMAS MOOPtE. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS ON WOOD. LONDON : LONGMAN, BROWN. (iREKX S: CO. ] 858. c -'^ / *. ; f ill p T>^i5 't \-; p I c« A«R D" 'ot. a Y, ADVERTISEMENT. The demand for Illustrated Books for Presents has led tlie Publishers to suppose that a selec- tion from the Poems of Thomas Moore would be acceptable. Paternoster Row, Deccmher, 1857. iv)li?a(>8 f-^illl C O ^' T ¥. N T 8. iV/f/c The Meeting of the Wateks I The Sale of Loves 3 The Shield 4' Love's touxg Dkeam G To 8 I found her not 9 Love and Reason 10 I SAW from the Beach 13 To the Flying Fish 14 A Ballad. — The Lake of the Dism.vl Swamp IG Oh ! BREATHE NOT HIS NaME 18 Believe me, if all those. endearing young Charms 19 Oh ! think not my Spirits are always as light 20 Hymn of a Virgin of Delphi, at the Tomb of her Mother . . 21 The Harp that once through Tara's Halls 23 Gaily sounds the Castanet 25 Fly not yet 26 'Tis the last Hose of Summer 28 The Origin of the Harp 29 On Music 30 Wind thy Horn, my Hunter Boy 31 On the Shamrock ! 33 Oh ! H.VD -NVE SOME BRIGHT LITTLE ISLE OF OUR OWN 3-1' On ! DOUBT ME NOT 35 You REMEMBER ElLEN 3G As A Beam o'er the Face of the Waters may glow 37 "VI CONTENTS. Come o'tii tuk Sea 38 CoMK, K>;sT IN THIS Bosom '. 3'J The Time I've lost in wooing W Uicii AND Rare were the Gkms she wore 43 I SAW THY Form in youthfu. I'ltiME 4-3 To Ladies' Kyes 41- I STOLE ALONU THE FLOWERY Ba.NK 4(i Let Erin remember the Days ui Old 40 The Minstrel Boy 49 When cold in the Earth 51 As SLOW OUR Ship 52 After the Battle 54 Dear Harp of my Country 54 Reuben and Rose 56 Thee, tiiee, only thee 00 The Steersman's Song 01 Desmond's Song 03 She sung of Love 04 The Night Dance GG The Woodpecker 07 Sing — sing— Music was given 68 L\ the Morning of Life 70 Lesbia uath a beaming Eye 71 Song 73 I WISH I WAS by that dim Lake 7-i Lines written at the Cohos, or Falls of the Mohawk River . 75 Drink to her . , 77 By that Lake, whose gloomy Shore 78 The Gazelle 80 Nets and Cages 83 Who'll buy my Love-knots? 83 Ou, come to me when Daylight sets 85 Love and Pallas 87 Sail on, sail on 88 Song 89 Oh, the sight entrancing 91 Oh, Days of Youth 93 Oft, in the stilly Night 93 When Love was a Child 95 Sweet Innisfallen 96 I've a Secret to tell thee 98 Ail that's buight must fade 99 CONTENTS. Vll Pnije So WARMLY Wi: JIKT 100 Fare Tiii:ii wk.i.i., thou lovely one! 101 Written on passing Deadman's Island 103 The Turf shall be my fragrant Shrinf 105 Like one who, booji'j) 106 Who is the Maid? 107 Dost thou remember 108 There is a bleak Desert 109 IIOW LIGHTLY mounts THE MuSE'S WiNG Ill Is IT not sweet to think, HEREAFTER 112 Flow on, thou shining River 113 Erin ! the Tear and the Smile in thine Eyes 114 Thou ! who dry'st the Mourner's Tear 116 Song 117 The Voice 117 A Canadian Boat Song 119 Cupid and Psyche 120 The high-born Ladye 123 When on the Lip the Sigh delays 123 Song 124 The Stranger 126 Cephalus and Procris 127 Song of the Battle Eve 128 The Pretty Rose-tree 130 Hush, Hush I 131 LoTE and Time 131 While gazing on the Moon's Light 133 Our first young Love 135 Nights of Music 135 1 love but thee 137 Sound the loud Timbrel 138 The Meeting of the Ships 139 Black and blue Eyes 141 The dying Warrior 142 When through the Piazzettv 143 Rose of the Desert 144 Do NOT say that Life is waning 145 My Heart and Lute 145 Echo 146 Hark! the Vesper Hymn is stealing 147 loate and the sun-dial 148 Oh, SOON RETURN 149 VI II CONTENTS. Pagi How DEAR TO ME THE HoUR 151 A Temple to Friendship 153 Yes, yes, when the Bloom 153 When midst the Gay I meet 153 'Tis ALL FOR Thee 154< Song of Hercules to his DArcuTER 155 Song 157 They met but once 158 Thou bidst me sing 159 No, not more welcome 100 Love thee, dearest? love thee? 101 The Boy of the Alps 162 I saw the Moon rise clear 163 When to sad Music silent you listen 164 ILer last Words at farting 165 Let 's take this World as some wide Scene 166 On, DO NOT look so bright and blest 167 Those Evening Bells 168 The Dream of Home 169 They tell me thou 'rt the favour'd Guest 170 Still when Daylight 170 The Fancy Fair 172 They may rail at this Life 173 The Day-dream 175 The young May Moon 177 So\t;reign Woman 178 Song of the Poco-curante Society 180 Keason, Folly, and Beauty 182 Alone in Crowds to wander on 184 The Indian Boat 185 A Twilight 187 Gazel 189 Cupid's Lottery 190 Should those fond Hopes 191 When Love, who ruled 192 What shall I sing Thee 195 Spirit of Joy 196 If thou wouldst have me sing and play 197 Thou art, God 198 Song 200 Song 201 Come, play me that simple Air aciain 202 CONTENTS. IX Pnyt AWiKE, ARISE, THY LiGIlT IS COME 203 Song 205 Joys of Youtu, now fleeting ! 207 When first I met thee 209 There's something strange 211 Then first from Love 213 The Russian Lover 213 I'u mourn the Hopes 215 Wreath the Bowl ~1G Bermuda 219 Slumber, oh slumber 2i20 When IVilight Dews 221 Oh ! Arranmore, loved Aur.omore 222 Then, fare thee well 223 Guess, guess 225 This Life is all chequer'd with Pleasures and Woes .... 22(5 Farewell !— BUT whenever you welcome the Hour 227 Love and Hope 228 The Wandering Bard 230 Go, THEN — ^"tis vaix 232 To sigh, yet feel no Pain 233 Young Jessica 234 Song 230 Say, wh.\t shall be our Sport to-day 237 Silence is in our festal Halls 238 Light sounds the Harp 240 Poor Broken Flower 243 Fancy and Reality 243 The English abroad 244 Clouds aud Mountains 246 At Night 247 Geneva ~^^ Sympathy ~^1 Song -51 Elegiac Stanz.vs 253 Oh fair! oh purest! 255 H.VRK I 'tis the Breeze 257 Has Sorrow thy young Days shaded 258 The Shrine ~^^ Beauty and Song -''^ To Lord Viscount Strangfokd 26^ 6 CONTENTS. FROM "LALLA HOOKII." Pngt The liowEii of Roses 2G7 The Defeat of Mokanna 268 The Exciiantress' Song 274 The Poisoned Banquet 276 AziM .VND Zelica 279 nourmaiial 283 Love and Death 285 The Feast of Roses 288 The Gheber's Stronghold 293 Calm after Storm 294 The Dirge of IIinda 296 Lovers' Quarrels 297 The Reconciliation of Selim and Nourmahal 299 FROM " THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS." LiLlS 311 The Prayer of Lilis 313 The Death of Lilis 317 The Angel Zaiuph's Story .... 322 ^^t^ ILLUSTRATIONS There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the briglit waters meet. Vignette. As wlien first he sung to woman's car His soul-felt flame. Vignette. I came when the sun o'er tliat beach was drclininij. The bark was still there, but the waters were gone. \Vhere, all night long, by a fire-fly lan^p, She paddles her white canoe. All tliat the young should feel and know. By thee was taught so sweetly well. Vignette. 'Twas but to bless those hours of shade Tliat beauty and the moon were made. Burn, bright torches, Iniru till luurn, And lead us where the wild boar lies. As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow, Wliile the tide runs in darkness and coldness below. Vignette. Autisi L.\i,n.vVEi'.. l'iii;i" BiRKET Foster . . . E.Evans . . 1 D. Maclise, R..V. . . J. Cooper . . 4' F. R. PiCKEKSGILL, R..V. W.J.LhllOH. D. M.\CLisE, E.A. . J. Cooper . . 12 Edward Dunc.\:x . . W. J. Linion. 13 Jasper. Cropsey . . W. J. Linton. ^ 7 H. Lejeune Orrin Smifh . 21 D. Maclise, r.a. . . /. Cooper . . 2-1' BiRKET Foster . . . E. Evans . . 2G Harriso.^ Wei It . . E. Eians . . 31 BiRKET Foster . . . J. Cooper . . 37 D. JIaclise, r.a. . . J. Cooper . . -11 ILLUSTKATIOX: On she wont, and her maiden smile In safety lighted her round the Green Isle. 'Twas iCea ! slunib'ring calm and mild, And bloomy as the dimpled cliild. Vignette. llor trembling jiennant still look'd back To that dear Isle 'twas leaving. Vignette. When a sunbeam was seen to glance over the walls, And tlie castle of Willumberg bask'd in the ray. 'Longside the wheel, unwearied still I stand, and as my watchful eye, &c. Vignette. I knew by the smoke, that so gracefully cnrl'd Above the green elms, that a cottage was mar. Lesbia hath a beaming eye. But no one knows for whom it beametli. From rise of morn till set of sun, I've seen tlie mighty ^lohawk run. Vignette. "lis my lady's light gazelle. To me lier love-thoughts bringing. AVlion smoothly go our gondolcts O'er tlie moonlit sea. Vignette. O'er tiles array'd with helm and blade, And plumes, in the gay wind dancing ! Sweet Innisfallen, long shall dwell In memory's dream that sunny smile. \HTisT. iNniiwEn. ratjc F. R.PiCKr.nsGii.L,n..\. W.J. Linton. 42 Jasper Cropsey D. Maclisk, r.a. Edward Duncan D. Maclise, r.a. Samuel Re.u) . . Edward Duncan D. Maclise, r.a. . . W. J. LIn/oii. n . . J. Cooper . . 50 . . W.J. Union. 53 . . /. Cooper . . 55 . . E. Evans . . 57 W. Thomas . Gl J. Cooper . . C5 BiRKET Foster . . . W.T. Green. 07 F. W. ToriiAM Jasper Cropsey . D. Maclise, r.a. /. Cooper . . 71 W. J. Linfon. 75 /. Cooper . . 78 Harrison Weir . . ./. Greenau-ay 80 BiRKET Foster . D. Maclise, r.a. /. Cooper . . 85 ./. Cooper . . 89 George Thomas . . W. Thomas . 91 BinKET Foster . . . E.Evans. 90 ILLUSTRATIONS. Vignptte. Tliprc lietli a ^y^eck on the dismal shore Of cold and pitiless Labrador. Dost thou reramiber that place so lonely, A place for lovers, and lovers only. Flow on, thou shining river ; But, ere thou reach the sea, &c. Vignette. F.aintly as tolls the evening chime. Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. He watches the roe-buck springing. And away, o'er the hills away. The moon looks on many brooks : The brook can see no moon but this. Vignette. Oh, they who've felt it know how sweet. Some sunny morn a sail to meet. Vignette. When through the Piazzetta Night breathes her cool air. Hark ! the vesper hymn is stealing. O'er the waters soft and clear. Vignette. How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, And sunbeams melt along the silent sea. March ! nor heed those arms that hold thee. Though so fondly close they come. I saw the moon rise clear o'er hills and vales of snow, Nor told ray fleet rein-deer the track I wish'd to go. ABTIST. D. M.vcLisE, n.A. enohaveh. Piirjc J. Cooper . . 9'J Jasper Cropsev . . W.J. Linton. 103 J. CHoESLEY, A.K.A. W. Tliomas . 108 Edward Duncan . . W. J. Linton. 113 D. Maclise, e.a. . . /. Cooper . . 115 BiEKET Foster . . . W. T. Green . 110 Harrison Weir . . /. Cooper . . 121 BiRKET Foster . . . E. Evans . . 133 D. JMaclise, r.a. . . J. Cooper . . 13G Edward DuncjVN . . W.J. Linton. 139 R. B. Haydon ..../. Cooper . . 140 BiRKET Foster . . . W. J. Linton. 143 BiRKET Foster . . . E..Erans . . 147 D. Maclise, r.a. . . /. Cooper . . 150 BiRKET Foster . . . E. Evans . . 151 George Thomas . . W. Thomas. . 157 Harrison Weir . . /. Greenaway 1G3 XIV ILLUSTRATIONS. Those evening bells ! those evening bells ! How many a tale their music tells. Vignette. They may rail at this life — from the hour 1 began it, I found it a life full of kindness and bliss. The young May moon is beaming, love, The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love. While Folly took old Reason's book, And twisted the leaves in a cap of such ton. And there was still where Day had set A flush that spoke him loth to die. " O'erhaul, o'erhaul ! my Cupids all ! " Said Love, the little Admiral. Those hues tliat make the Sun's decline So soft, so radiant, Lord ! are Thine. " This, this," he cried, " is iill ray prayer, To paint that living light I see." Vignette. Fleetly o'er the moonlit snows, Swift our sledge as lightning goes. Vignette. I watch the star, whose beam so oft Has lighted rac to thee, love. Into his bark Icap'd smilingly. And left poor Hope behind. Vignette. Young Jessica sat all the day, With heart o'er idle love-thoughts pining BiRKET Foster Stoth.vru . . . enohaveu. I'tuji E. Evans . . 1G8 /. Cooper . . 171 George Tiiom.\s . . JV. Thomas . 173 Birket Foster George Thomas W. T. Green. 177 W. Thomas . 182 Birket Foster . . . E. Evans . . 187 George Tuomas . Birket Foster . . C. W. Cope, r.a. . Stotuard H. Earrul . . 103 J. Grccnaicay 199 E. Evans . . 205 /. Cooper . . 208 George Thomas d. m.vclise r.a. H. Honal . 213 /. Cooper . . 218 Birket Foster . . . J. Cooper . . 221 J. C. IIORSLET, A.R.A. D. Maci.ise, r.a. . , W. Thomas . 228 /. Cooper . . 231 George Tuojias . . W. Thomas . 234 ILLUSTRATIONS. XV Vignette. Liglit went tlie harp when tlie War-God, reclining, Lay lull'd on the white arm of Beauty to rest. Vignette. Anxious to reach that splendid view, Before the day-beams cinite withdrew. Vignette. The sacred pages of God's own book Shall be the spring, the eternal brook. Down in yon summer vale, Where the rill flows. AKTIST, J.NC.n.vvru /'«yf D, Maclise, k.a. . . J. Cooper . . 23'J F.Il.ricKi:RSoiLL,R..v. W.J.Lhiton. 210 11. B. Uayuon . . . . J. Cooper . . 212 BiKKET Foster . . . J. Cooper . . 248 1). JIaclise, R.a. . . J. Cooper . . 252 C. W. Cope, r.a. . . E. Evans 255 BiRKET Foster . . . E. Evans . . 260 FROM " LALLA ROOKH." In the time of my cliildhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit iu the roses and bear the bird's song. Then hasten we, maid, to twine our braid, To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. And there, upon the banks of that loved tide, He and his Zelica sleep side by side. And where it most sparkled no glance could discover, In lip, cheek, or eyes, for she brighten'd all over. 'Twas when the hour of evening came Upon the Lake, serene and cool. IIow calm, how beautiful comes on The stilly hour, when storms are gone. H. Warrex .S'. F. Slader . 267 F. Wyburd E. Evans . . 271' H. Warren E. Evans . . 279 H. Warren S. F. Slader . 283 11. Warren E. Dudley . . 290 Birket Foster . . . J. Cooper . . 294' XVI ILLUSTRATIONS. ABTIBT. ENORAVEH. I'niJC Maids from tlie West, with sun-bright hair, And from the Garden of the Nile. H. Warren E: Evans . . 299 Down tiie blue Ganges laughing glide Upon a rosy lotus wreath. II. AVarue.v /. Cooper . . 303 FROM " THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS." One night — 'twas in a holy spot, Which she for prayer had chosen — a grot. H. Warrex JF. Thomas . 314 She raised, like one beatified. Those eyes, whose light seem'd rather given, &c. E. H, Corbould . . /. Cooper . . 326 The Initial Letters and Ornaments. W. ILvRRY Rogers . E. Evans. THE MEETINOr OF THE WATERS. IIEI\E is not ill tlio \vi(l(> world n vnllcy so sweot ^y^Mm!^^^ As tliiit vnlo ill wliusc l)osoni tlic Krinlil w.-itors meet; ()li I tlic last rays of f(>olino' and life iiiusl dciinrt, Kic the lilooiii (.filial valK'V shall fade IV-ini niv licart. Y<\ it n'lis not tliiit Xjitiii'r liiiil -IhmI oVr the socmio IliT |imv.st of rrvstal and luinlitcst of o-ivcii ; "Twas not her soft magic of .strcanilot or hill, V\\ I no, — it was something moiv exquisite still. "Pwas tliat friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, ^^'llo made ovcrv dear scene of enchantment more dear. And wild felt liow the best charms of natm-e improve, When we sec thcni roflooted from looks that we love. SwtH't vale of Avoeal how ealm could I rest In thv liosoin of shade, with the friends I love best, AN'herc th(> storms tliat we feel in this cold world should cease. And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace. THE SALE OF LOVES. DREAMT that, in the Paphian groves, ^f My nets by mooidight laying, S^^^ I caught a flight of wanton Loves, Among the rose-beds playing. Some just had left their silv'ry shell. While some were full in feather ; 80 pretty a lot of Loves to sell. Were never yet stiung together. Conic liuy my Tjoves, Come liuv mv Loves, Vo dauios ami ioM.'-lip[>"il lui.s.'sc'b I — They re new and l)ii^lil. The cost is hj^hr, For tlie coin of tln« isle is kisses. First Cloris came, with looks sedate, Their coin on her lips was ready ; " I buy," quoth she, '* my Love by weight, Full grown, if you please, and steady." '• Let mine be light," said Fanny, " pray — Such lasting toys undo one ; A light little Love that will last to-day, — To-morrow I'll spoil; a new one." Come buy my Loves, Come buy my Loves, Ye dames and rosc-hpp'd misses ! — There 's some will keep. Some light and cheap, At from ten to twenty kisses. The learned Prue took a pert young thing. To divert her virgin Muse with, And pluck sometimes a quill from his wing, To indite her billet-doux with. Poor Cloe woidd give for a well-fledged pair Her only eye, if you 'd ask it ; And Tabitha bcgg'd, old toothless fail', For the youngest Love in the basket. Come buy my Loves, itc. &c. But one was left, when Susan came, One worth them all together ; At sight of her dear looks of shame. He smiled, and pruned his feather. She wi.sh'il tlie boy— 't was more than wliim- Iler looks, her sighs hetray'd it ; But kisses were not enouyh for him — I ask'd a heart, and she paid it ! Good-bye, my Loves, Good-bye, my Loves, 'T woidd make you smile to 've seen us First trade for this Sweet child of bliss. And then nurse the bov between us. THE SHIELD. VY, did you not Iiear a voice of death? And did you not mark the paly form Which rode on the silvery mist of the heath, And suuii- a irhostlv dirtre in the storm? Was it tlie wailing liird uf the gluuia, That shriokt- on the house of woe all night? Or a shiv'ring fiend that Hew to a tomb. To howl and to feed till the glance of light? "Twus Hot the death-hird's eiy from the wood, Xor shiv'ring fiend that hung on the blast ; 'T was the shade of Ilelderic — man of blood — It screams for the guilt of days that arc past. See, how the red, red lightning strays, And scares the gliding ghosts of the heath ! Now on the leafless yew it plays, Where hana's the shield of this sou of death. That shield is blushing with murd'rous stains ; Long has it hung from the cold yew's spray ; It is blown by storms and wash'd by rains, 13ut neither can take the blood away ! Oft l)y that ycAv, on the blasted field. Demons dance to the red moon's light ; While the damp- boughs creak, and the swinging shiel Sings to the raving spirit of night ! LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM. I \ ! the days arc gone, wlien Bcautj briylit My licart's chain wove ; When my dream of life, from moiii till night, Was love, still lut for you to l)e huried iu books — Ah, Fanny, they're pitifnl sages, Who conld not in one of 3'oui' looks Head more than in millions of pages. Astronomy finds in those eyes Better light than she studies aliove ; And -Music would borrow your sighs As the melody fittest for love. Your Arithmetic only can trip If to count vour own charms yon endeavour : And Eloquence glows on youi' li|) Wlien you sw^ear, that you'll love me for ever, "j'hus you see, what a brilliant allianci Of arts is assembled in you ; A course of mo)'e exquisite science Man never need wish to pursue. 9 And, oil ! — it' a I'Vlluw like me May (.•out'cr a dijiluina of lieurt.s, With iiiv lip lliiis 1 boal your dogivc. Mv (liviiic little Mistress of Arts ! c^s I FOUND HER NuT. FOUXD Irt not — the chauiber seeui'd ,(^ Like some divinely haunted jdace, {S Where fairy forms had lately IieaniM. And left behind their odorous traee I It felt, as if her lips had slied A sigh around her, ere she fled, Which hung, as on a melting lute, Wlien all the silver chords are unite. There lingers still a trembling lireath After the note's luxurious death, A shade of song, a spirit air Of melodies which had l)een there. I saw the veil, which, all the day, Had floated o'er her cheek of rose ; I saw the coucli, where late she lay 111 languor of divine icpose : 10 And T niiild dace the liallowM |priiit J In- limbs Imd Icff. as |niiv and waiin As if 'twere done in ra|)tuic"s mint, And Love liiinsclf liad stanipM the tuim. (>\\ \\\\ sncet Diistics-. where wcrt thou? In pity i\y not tlnn fVoin nie : Thou art my life, my essence now. And my soul dies of wanting thee. LOVE AND REASON. ' (iiKiiid riioninie connnence a raisoiiner, il cesse de sentir." J. .1. TtoUSSKAl'. \\ AS in the summer time so sweet, NV\3C''V? r When hearts and Howers are hoth in season, ■-^VvliJ^*^ That — wh(.. of all the world, should meet. One early dawn, hut Love and Ileason. Tjove told his dream nil llii'V pa^sM, Should tiiid that >iimiv uiniiiiiin- chill. For >till thi' >liailo\\ Ivoasoii cast Foil o'er the Imv, and coolM him >lill. Ill vain he tried his wiiiys to wann. Or tiiid a pathway not so dim, For still the maid's gigantic t'oiin Woiikl stalk between the sun and him. " This must not be," .said little Love — " The sun was made for more than you." So, turning through a myrtle grove, lie bid the [xirtly nyiii|ih adieu. ^ow gaily roves the laughing hoy O'er many a mead, by many a stream ; 111 every breeze inhaling joy. And driidving bliss in every beam. Fi'om all the gardens, all the bowers. He ouird the many sweets they shaded, Ami ate tin- fruits and smellM the Howers, Till taste was gone and odour faded. lint now the sun, in pomii of noon, Louk'd blazing o'er the sultry [ilains : Alas ! the boy grew languid soon, And fever thrill'd through all his veins. The dew forsook his baby brow, Xo more with lieahhy bloom he smiled- Oh ! where was tranquil Reason now, To cast hi'i' shadow o'er the child ".' 12 l>(.'iU'atli a o'lvcn and an't'd jialiu, His fool at Icjigtli tor .slielttT tiiniing-, He saw the iiytnpli rccliiiiiin' calm, Willi l»io\v as cool as liis was burning. *' Oh ! take mo to that bosom cold,"' In murmurs at her feet ho said ; And lleason oped her garment's fold. And flung it round his fever'd head. r To felt her bosom's icy toxich, And soon it Inll'd his pulst' to rest : i'oi', ah I the chill was (juito too nnich, And Jjove expired on Iveason's breast ! I SAW FROM THE BEACH. SAW from the beach, when the morning was shinino- A htirk o'er the Avaters move glurioiislv on : I came wlien the sun o"er that heaeh was deolining. The liark was -till tline. Inif the waters were gone. 14 ,\iiil siicli i> llir r.iic li I it has niiuk' iiio i>ruii(lly feci, J Low like thy wing's impatient /.cmI [s tho pure soul, that rests nut, pciii Within tiu■^ w.nid's gross element, JJnt takes the wing that God has given. And rises into light and heaven ! ]}ut, wheti I see that wing, so bright, (frow languid with a moment's Hight, .\ttem]>t the paths of aii in vain. And sink into the waves again ; Alas ! the tlatteiing pride is o'er ; Like thee, awhile, the soul may soar, liut erring man must hlush to think. Like thee, again the soul may sink. Oh Virtue I when thy elime I seek, Let not my sjjirit's Hight he weak : Let me not, like this feelde thing, \Mth h)'ine still dropping from its wing. Just sparkle in the solar glow And plunge again to depths beloAv ; ]jut, when I leave the grosser throng With whom my sold hath dwelt so long, Let me, in that aspiring day, Cast every lingering stain away, And, jianling for thy purer aii', Fly up at once and fix me there. 16 A BALLAD. THK LAKE OF THE DISMAL SWAMP. WRITTEN" AT XOHFOLK, IN VIRGINIA. ra/Wfc*-*^ IIEY made her a grave, too cold ;uid (lniii]i W(^\ / '1| For a soul so warm and tine ; wy^'firM'* .Viul she's o'oiio to llio Lake of llie J)isiiial more. But oft, from the Indian hunter's cam|), This lover and maid so true Are seen at the Imur of midnight dani]i To cross the Lake liy a tiir-Hv lanip. And paddle their white caiinc ! OH ! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. R ! hreathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, A\'here cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid : Sad. silent, and dark he the tears that we shed. As the niffht-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head 13ut the night-dew that falls, tlmugh in silence it weeps, Shall hrighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls. IJ) BELIEVE ME, IF ALL THOSE ENDEARING YOUNG CHARMS. KLIEVE mv, il' all those I'lidraiini;- vouiig charms. ^Miicli I gaze on so fondly to-da_v. Were to change by to-morrow, and Heet iii my arms, Like fairy-gifts fading away. Thou wonldst still be adored, as this moment thou art. Let thy loveliness fiide as it will, And around the dear ruin earh wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still. It is nut wliilo beauty and youth arc thine own. And thy cheeks unjn'ofaned by a tear, That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known To which time will but make thee more dear ; No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets. But as truly loves on to tlie close. As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets, The same look which she turnM when he rose. ■>n OJI ! THINK NOT MY SriRITS ARE ALWAYS AS LIGHT. II I tliiiik not my spirits are always as li;5 As tlu'ii, "t was all tliv \\i>li ami care, Tliat iiiiiu' slniulh, then, how sweet to say Into some loved one's ear, 'i'houghts reserved through many a day To l»e thus whis])er'd here I When the dance and feast are done, Arm in arm as home we stray. How sweet to see the dawning sun O'er her cheek's warm blushes play ! Then, too, the farewell kiss — The words, whose parting tone Lingers still in dreams of bliss, That haunt young liearts alone. YiifjFm FF.Y NOT YF,T. \i\ not yet, 'tis just tlir hour, When jilcasurc. like the midnig'lit fliiwor That scorns the ej-e of vulgar light, Begins to hloom for sons of night, And maids who love the moon. "T was liut tci lilcs> tlic^.c liiMiis of sliiulo That licaiitv ami the ninoii were inadc ; "'I" is then llii'ir soft allractioiis nlowiiiy Set the titles and u,v Till': ii.\i;i'. IS l)(_'IifW(l that tlii< llai|i. wliicli I wake now tiii- tllct', Was a Svrt'ii nf nid, wIki siiii*^ iiiuler the sl'u : And w lid iit'tfii. at rvc. lliiu" tlie brio'ht waters ruvcd. Ti) meet, (HI the uieeu sliore, a youth wlioiii she loved. 15ut slic J(i\'ed liiiu in \aiii. for he left lier to wrcp. And ill teai'8. all the iiiuht. her li'old tresses to stee]) ; Till lieav'ii look'd with j»ity on true love so warm, Aiul changed to this soft Harp the sea-maiden's form. Still her bosom i-ose fair — still her cheeks smiled the same — ^Maile her sea-l)eauties gracefully foi'm'd the light frame ; And her hair, as, let loose, o'er her white arm it fell. Was chanocd to hiir>ht chords titt'riiig melody's spell. Hence it came, that this soft JIarp so long hath been known To mingle love's language with sorrow's sad tone ; Till thou didst divide them, and teach the fond lay To speak love when I'm near thee, and grief when away. ;}() ox MUSIC. HEX thro' life unljlost wo I'ovc, Losiiiii,' all that nuule lite (K'ar, SJHUild .some notes Ave used to love. In days of hovhood, meet oui- ear. Oh ! how welcome breathes the strain I Wakening thoughts that long have slejtt ; Kindling former smiles again ]n fiidcd eyes that long have wept. Tiike the gale, that sighs along lieds of oriental flowers, Is the grateful breath of song. That onee Avas heard in happier hoius ; Fill'd with balm, the gale sighs on. Though the flowers have sunk in dealli ; So, when pleasure's dream is gone, Its memorv lives in Musie's breath. .Musie, oh hoM' faint, how weak. Language fades l)efore tliy spell I ^\'hy should Feeling ever s]»eak. When thou canst breathe her soul so well ? Friendslii[»"s l)alniy words may feign. Love's are ev'u more false than they ; Oh ! 'tis only Music's strain Can sweetly soothe and not betray. J 1.-1 WIXD THY HORX. MY HITNTKK ROY, IND thy horn, my hunter hov. And leave thy lute's inglorious sighs ; Hunting is the hero's joy. 'I'ill war his nohlor game supplies. H2 llnik I llic liiiiinil-liclN liiiL'ini; >\vrrt. W hilf Imutrr.s .slnmt, and tlic wdikIs iT|icat. llilli-lM.: Ililli-h, Wind iiii'ain tliy clu'ciful Ikhii, Till cello, faint with an>\v"riiin-. dies: 1)11111. liiiiilil ttiiclu's. lairii till nidiiK And lead us wliciv tlic wild lioar lio. liark I the crv. '■ He's rnuiid, lic','^ I'niind." \\ llilr llili and \;illcv i>\W sliiinls iCMilind. llilll-lH,: llilli 1„, oil TIIK SllA:\II!Of'K! IKorOII i'ain's Islo, To spoil awhile. As Love and ^'aIoul• wander"( With W"\t, tlie .sprite, Wliose quiver bi-iyht A thousand arrows squander \1. Where'er thoj pass, A tri|)le urass Shoots up, witli dow-drops streaming, As softly green As emeralds seiMi Throutrh nui-est crystal olcaming. 3:i oh tli<' SlinninH'k, tlu' _>>tooii. iminoital Sliaiinock 1 Cliosoii loaf Of Bard an.l Chief. Old Erin's native Shainrofk ! Savs Valour, '• Sec, They spring for me, Those leafy gems of morning I " — Says Love, '' Xo, no, For me they grow, My fragrant path adorning." Bnt ^^lt perceives The triple leaves. And cries, " <>li ! do not sever A type, that hlends Three godlike friends. Love, A'alonr, "Wit, for ever ! " Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock ! Chosen leaf Of Bard and Chief, Old Erin's native Shamrock I So firmly fond ]\Iay last the hond Thev wove that morn together. And ne'er may fall One drop of gall On Wit's celestial feather. A fay Love, as twine ITis flowers divine. Of thorny ftilsehood weed "em : Mav Valour ne'er His standard rear Against the canse of Freedom I 34 Oh the Shamrock, tlie groeii, iinuiortal .Shamrock ! Chosen leaf Of Bard and Chief, Old Erin's native Shamrock I -^ OH ! HAD WE SOME BRIGHT LITTLE ISLE OF OUR OWN. H ! had we some bi'ight httle isle of oiu- own, In a bine summer ocean, far off and alone, Where a leaf never dies in the still blooming bowers, And the bee banquets on through a wliole year of flowers ; Where tlie sun loves to pause AMtli so fond a delay. That the night only draws A thin veil o'er tlie day ; here simply to feel that wo l)reathe, tliat we IWc. worth the l>est joy tliat life elsewhere can give. There, with souls ever ardent ami pure as the clime, We should love, as they loved in the first golden time ; The glow of the sunshine, the balm of the air, Would steal to our hearts, and make all summer there. AVith aftection as free From decline as the bowers, And, with hope, like the bee. Living always on flowers, Our life should resemble a long day of liglit. And our death come on. holv and calm as the night. 3r> OH DOUBT M?: NOT. II ! doubt mc not — the season " ' " ;^ Is o'er, when Folly made nic rove, 'And \u>\y the vestal, Reason, Shall wateh the fire awaked hy Love. Although this heart was early hlown, And fairest hands di.sturl)\l the tree, The}^ only shook some blossoms down. Its fruit has all been kept for thee. Then doubt me not — the season Is o'ei', when Folly made me rove. And now the vestal, Eeason, Shall watch the fire awaked by Love. And though my lute no longer ]\ray sing of Passion's ardent spell. Yet, trust me, all the stronger I feel the bliss I do not tell. The bee through many a garden roves, And hums his lay of courtship o'er. But when he finds the flower he loves, He settles there and hums no more. Then doubt me not — the season Is o'er, when Folly kept me free, And now the vestal, Keason, Shall guard the flame awaked liy tliei 36 YOU REMEMBEU ELLEN. OL' rcmeinbcr Ellon, our liainlet's pride, IIow meekly she Messed her humble lot. When the stranger, William, had made her his bride, And love was the light of their lowly cot. Together they toil'd through winds and rains. Till Wilham, at length, in sadness said, *' We must seek our fortune on other jdains ; " — Then, sighing, she left her lowly shed. They roam'd a long and a weary way, Nor much was the maiden's heart at ease, When now, at close of one stormy day. They see a proud castle among the trees. " To-night," said the youth, " we'll shelter there ; The wind blows cold, the hour is late :" So he blew the horn with a chieftain's air, And the Porter bow'd, as they pass'd the gate. " Now, welcome, Lady," exclainrd the youth, — " This castle is thine, and these dark woods all !"' She l)elieved him crazed, but his words were truth, For Ellen is Lady of Kosna Hall ! And dearly the Lord of Rosna loves What William, the stranger, woo'd and wed ; And the light of bliss, in these lordly groves, Shines pure as it did in the lowly shed. AS A BEAM O'ER THE FACE OF THE WATERS MAY GLOW, S a beam o'er the face of the waters may plow "While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, ■r^^ So the check may he tinged with a warm sunny >nMle ^/^i%^ Tliduuh llic coM heart to ruin runs darkly the wliilc. 38 OiK' fatal it'ini'iiilnaufe, one soiiuw that tliio>\>, Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys ami oui' woes. To wliicli lite iiulhin!^ daikcr oi- Inliilitci' fan lir'm^', For Mliicli joy has do l)alm ami atHictiou no sting — Oh I this thought in the midst of eiijoynient will stay, Like a dead, leafless branch in the suniiner's blight ray The beams of the warm sun ])lay I'ound it in vain, It may smile in his light, but it blooms not again. OME o'er the sea, Maiden, with me, Mine through sunshine, storm. a)id snows; Seasons may roll, But the true soul iJurns the same, where'er it goes. Let fate frown on, so we lov(> and part not ; 'Tis life whei'e thou ait, 'tis death whoiv thou'rt not. Then come o'er the sea. Maiden, with me. Come wherever the wild wind blows ; Seasons may roll. But the true soul I'mrns the same where'ei- it ffoes. ;}i) AN'as not the soii Matlo for the Free, Land for courts and chains alone ? Here we are slaves. But, on the waves, Love and Liberty's all our own ; No e\e to watfh, and no tongue to wmiiiil i All earth forgot, and all heaven around us— Then come o'er the sea. Maiden, with nic. Mine through sunshine, storm, and snow- Seasons may roll. But the true soul Burns the same, where'er it iroes. COME, REST IN THIS BOSOM. OME, rest in this bosom, my own stricken doer. Though the herd have Hed from thee, thy home is still here ; Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast. And a heart and a hand all thv own to the last. Oh ! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same Tlirough joy and through torment, through glory and shame ? I kno\v not, I ask not, if guilt 's in that heart, I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art. 40 Thou hast call'd nie thy Ang-ol in monionts of liHss, And thy Ano-ol I'll he, 'mid the hori'Oi's of this, — Through the furnace, unshi'iuking, th}- steps to pursue. And shielil thee, and save thee, — or perish tliere too ! THE TIME I'VE LOST IX WOOING. ) HE time I've lost in wooing, In wateliing and piu'suing The light, that lies In woman's eyes. Has been my heart's undoing. Though Wisdom oft has sought me, I pcorn'd the lore slie lunuglit me : My only books Were woman's looks. And folly's all thev've tauiilit me. Her smile when Beauty granted. I hung with gaze enchanted. Like him the sprite, ^Miom maids by niglit Oft meet in glen that's haunted. Like him, too, Beauty won me ; But while her e^'es were on me, If once their ray Was turn'd away, Oh I winds could not outrun me. 41 And AW tlidsf t'tpllics noiiio ? And is my prmul licart gi'owiiii Too cold or wise For biilliaut i-yi'S Ao^ain to set it olowino- ? No, vain, alas I tli" endeavonr From l)onds so sweet to sever ; i'ooi' Wisdom's eliancc Aii'aiiist a iilance I- now as wral; as ever. RICH AND RARE WERE THE GEMS SHE WORE. Rich ami rare wore the oems she wore, And a liriiiht liold liiia' <'ii lier wand s>lie bure ; 43 I Jut (ill I lier beauty was far hcyoiid I k'l' sparkrnig gems, vr snow-white wainl. " Lady ! dost tliou not fear to stray, So lone and lovely, throunh this bleak way ? Are Erin's sons so o-nod or so cold, As not to be tenijited by woman oi' oold "^ " " Sir Knight I I i'eel iKit the least alarm, No son of Erin will ofter me harm : — For though they love woman and golden stoi»r. Sir Knight ! they love honour and virtue more I On she went, and her maiden smile In safety lighted liei- round the Green Isle ; And blest for evci' is she who relied I'lKin Erin's honour and Erin's pride. I SAW THY FORM TX YOT'THFUI. PIUME. SAW thy form in youthful prime. Nor thouglit that pale decay Would steal before the steps of Time. And waste its bloom away, Mary ! Vet still thy features wore that light. WHiich fleets not with the bieath ; And life ne'er look'd more ti'uly bright 'I'ban in thy smile of death, Marv I 44 As stivaiiis fhiit iiiii o'er n'oldcii mines, Yet Imnibly, calmly glide, Nor seem to know the wealth that shines Within their o-ontlc tide, Maiy ! Su veilM linieatli tlie siiii])lL'.st guise, Thy radiant genius shone, And that, which eliarm'd all otlier eyes, Seem'd worthless in thy own, Mary I if souls could always dwell ahove, Thou ne'er hadst left tliat s]ihere ; Or could we keep ihc souls we love. We ne'er had lost thee hoc. Mary I Though many a gifted mind we nu'et. Though fairest forms we see. To live with them is fiir less sweet, 'I'han to remember thee, Mary ! TO LADIES' EYES. O Ladies' eyes around, boy. We can't refuse, we can't refuse, Though bright eyes so abound, boy, 'T is hard to choose, 't is hard to choose, Ft)V thick as stai's that liohten 45 Voii aii'V huw'rs, yon airy Ixiw'is, Tlic CDiintk'ss oycs that brighti'ii This eartli of ours, this eaith of ours. But fill the cup — where'er, hoy, Our choice may fall, our choice may fall. We're sure to find Love there, boy, So drink thorn all ! so driidc them all ! Some looks there are so holy, They seem hut giv'ii, they seem but giv'n. As shining beacons, solely, To light to hcav'n, to light to heav'n. AMiile some^oh ! ne'er believe them— With tempting ray, with tempting ray, W'duld lead us (God forgive them !) The other way, the other way. But fill the cup — where'er, boy. Our choice may fall, our choice may fall. We're sure to find Love there, boy, So drink them all ! so drink them all ! In some, as in a mirror, Love seems portray'd. Love seems portray'd. But shun the flatt'ring error, "Tis but his shade, 'tis hut his shade. Himself has fix'd his dwelling In eyes we know, in eyes we know, And lips — but this is telling — So here they go ! so here they go ! Fill up, fill up — where'er, boy. Our choice may fall, our choice may fall, We're sure to find Love there, boy, So drink them all I so drink them all I 46 I STOLE ALONG THK FLOWERY RANK. OTpor 76 e/iou ovo/uafoiTo. — Philostkat. /co». 17, lib. ii. STOLE along tlie floweiy bank, While many a bending sea-grape draii The sjiriiikle of" the feathery oar That wini;"(l ine rouiul this fairv shore. "T was noon ; and every orange bnd J Tung languid o'er the crystal flood, Faint as the hds of maiden's eyes \\nien love-thoughts in her bosom rise. Oh, for a naiad's sparry bower, To shade me in that glowing hour I A little dove, of milky hue. Before me from a plantain flew, And, light along the water's brim, I stcer'd my gentle liark by him : For fiincy told me. Love had sent This gentle bird with kind intent To lead my steps, where I should meet- T knew not what, but something sweet. And — bless the little pilot dove I He had indeed l)een sent by Love, To guide me to a scene so dear As fate allows but seldom here ; ( )nc of those rare and luilliant hdurs. That, like the aloe's lingering flowers, May blossom to the eye of man l>ut once in all bis weaiv span. 47 Just wluTu llie' iiuuiiiirs (iii'iiiiig >liii(U' A vistii tVdin i\\v waters made. My bird reposed liis silver ])lume L^pon a ricli l)aiiana's lilooni. Oh vision l)iii;lit I u!i s|)irit fair I What spell, what magic raised her tliere? 48 "I" was Xcii I >limil>"iinu' calm and inilil. Anil Mooiuy as ilic (liiii|)l(Ml cliild. Wliose spiiit ill Klysiuni ki'rjis Its jilayfiil saliliatli. wliilc lie .sk'L'])s. Vhv Idiiad haiiaiia's i^iciwi ciiilnacc Iliiiig sluulowy iduiul each tiaii(|uil liiarr ; < hw little beam alone emild win The leaves to let it wander in. And, stealing over all lier eliarnis. From lip to cheek, troni neck to aini>. New lustre to each Iteauty lent, — Itself all tremblino- as it went I Dark lay her eyelid's jetty fringe Upon that cheek whose roseate tinge JNIix'd with its shade, like I'Veiiiiig's liglil Just touching on the verge of night. Her eyes, though thus in slumber hid, Seem'd glowing through the ivory lid. And, as I thought, a lustre threw Upon her lip's reflecting dew, — Such as a night-lamp, left to shine Alone on some secluded shrine, May shed upon the votive wreath. Which pious hands have hung beneath. "Was ever vision half so sweet ? Think, think how quick my heait-imlse beal, As o'er the rustling bank I st(»le : — Oil ! ye. that know the lover's soul, It is for you alone to guess, That iiioineiit's trembling haj)pine.ss. 49 LET ERIN REMEMBER THE DAYS OF OLD. >y i** ET Erin ronicniljcr tlie days of old. Ere her faithless sons bctravM lior ; \Mien ]\Jalat'lii wore the collar of gold, Which he won from her proud invader, AVhen her kings, witli standard of green uiifurrd. Led the Eed-Branch Knights to danger ; — Ere the emerald gem of the western woi-ld AVas set in the crown of a stranger. On Lough Xeagh's hank, as the fisherman strays, "SVliciT the clear cold eve's declining, He sees the round towers of other days In the wave beneath him shining ; Thus shall memory often, in dreams sublime. Catch a glimpse of the days that are over ; Thus, sighing, look througli the waves of time For the long-faded glories thev cover. THE MINSTREL BOY. HE Alinstrel Boy to the war is gone, Tn the ranks of death you'll find him ; His father's sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him. — ■ "Land of song!" said the warrior-l)nrd, 50 Though all the wurld hoti-nys thee. One sword, at least, thy rights shall guanl. One foithfiil hai'p shall piaise thoo I " The Minstrel fell I — hut the fooman's chain Could not hring his proud soul under ; The harp he loved ne'er spoke again. For he tore its chords asunder ; And said, " No chains shall sully thee, Thou soul of love and bravery ! Thy songs were made for the pure and free, They shall never sound in slaverv." 51 WHEN COLD IN THE EAUTH. HEN cold ill the earth hes the friend thuii ha^t loved, Be his faults and his folhes forgot hy thee then ; Or, if from their S'luinher the veil he removed, Weep o'er theni in t-ilenco, and close it again. And oh ! if 'tis pain to remember how far From the pathways of linlit he was tempted to roam. Be it bliss to remember that thou wert the star That arose on his darkness, and guided him home. From thee and thy innocent beauty fu-st came The revealings, that taught bun true love to adore. To feel the bright presence, and tmn him with shame From the idols he blindly had knelt to befoi'e. O'er the waves of a life, long benighted and wild, Thou earnest, like a soft golden calm o'ei' the sea ; And if happiness purely and glowingly smiled On his evening horizon, the light was from thee. And though, sometimes, the shades of past folly might rise, And though falsehood again would allure him to stray, He but turn'd to the glory that dwelt in those eyes, And the folly, the falsehood, soon vanish'd away. As the Priests of the Sun, when their altar gi-ew dim, At the day-beam alone cotild its lustre repair, So if virtue a moment grew languid in him. He but flew to that smile, and rekindled it there. ¥.-^1 AS SLOW OUll SHIP. S slow oil)- sliip her foamy traek Against the wintl was clcavuig-, Her trembhng pennant still look'd back To that dear Isle ' t was leaving, 80 loth we part from all wc love, From all the links that binil us : 53 So turn our hearts as on wc rove, To those we've left beliiiul us. Wlien, round the howl of vanisird years We talk, with joyous seemiiii;-, — With smiles that mioht as well be tears, So faint, so sail their beaming ; While mern'rv brinas us back aaaiu Eaeh early tie that twined us, Oh, sweet's the cup that eircles then To those we've left behind us. And when, in other climes, we meet Some isle, or vale enchanting, Where all looks flow'ry, wild, and sweet. And nouolit but love is wanting; ; We think how great had been our bliss, If Heav'n had but assign'd us To live and die in scenes like this, With some we 've left behind us ! As trav'Uers oft look back at eve, ^Tien eastward darkly going, To gaze upon that light they leave Still faint behind them glowing, — So, when the close of pleasure's day To gloom hath near eonsign'd us. We turn to catch one fading ray Of joy that 's left behind us. 54 AFTKIl TJfE IJAT'I'LK. KjIIIT elurie'd aiDUiid tlio conqueiui's way. Ami lightnings sliuw'd tliu distant hill. Where those who lust that di'eadt'ul day, Stuotl few and faint, hut fearless still. The soldier's hope, the patriot's zeal, For ever dinim'd, for ever crost — Oh ! who shajl say what heroes feel, When all l)ut life and honour's lost? The last sad hour of freedom's dream. And val(jur's task, moved slowly hy, "While mute they watch'd, till morning's heani (Should rise and give them light to die. There's yet a world, where souls are free. Where tyrants taint not nature's bliss ; — Tf death that world's bright opening be, Oh ! who would live a slave in tliis? DEAR HARP OF MY COUNTRY. 'EAR liar]) of my Country I in daikness I found thee. The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long, \\ hen proudly, my own Island JIarp, I unbound thee, tjij And gave all tliy chords to light, fi-vedoiu. ami song! Tlie warm lay of love and the light note of gladness Have Avaken'd thy fondest, thy liveliest thiill ; But, so oft hast thou echo'd the deep-sigh of sadness, That e'en in thy mirth it will steal from thee still. Dear Harp of my Country ! farewell to thy numhers. This sweet wTcath of song is the last we shall twine I Go, sleep with the sunshine of Fame on thy slumhers, Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine ; If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover, Have throbb'd at our lay, 't is thy glory alone ; I was hut as the wind, passing heedlessly over, And all the wild sweetness I waked Avas thv own. 56 REUBEX AND ROSE, A TALE OF ROMANCE. j^if HE (Inrkncss that Iniiio- upon \Mlluinl>ci'2:'.s walls -'■^ I Fad long been remember'd with awe and dismay ; s not a sunbeam had plaj'd in its halls, And it scem'd as shut out from the regions of da}-. Though the valleys were brighten'd by many a beam, Yet none could the woods of that castle illume ; And the lightning, which flash'd on the neighbouring stream. Flew back, as if fearing to entei- the gloom ! " Oh I Avhen shall this horrible darkness disperse ! " Said Willumberg's lord to the Seer of the Cave ; — " It can never dispel," said the wizard of verse, " Till the briglit star of ebivalrv sinks in the wave ! " And who was the bright star of chivah-y then ? AMio coidd be but Eeuben, the flow'r of the age ? For Reuben was first in the combat of men, Though Youth had scarce written his name on hei' page. For Willumberg's daughter his young heart bad beat, — For Eose, who was liright as the spirit of dawn. When with wand di-opping diamonds, and silvery- feet, It walks o'er the flow'i's of the mountain and lawn. iJt ^[ust Kosc, then, from lleiibon so fatally sever? Sad, sad wore the words of the Seer of the Cave, That darkness should cover that castle for evei-. Or lu'iil)eM ho sunk in the nioroiloss wave I 58 To the wizanl she flow, saying, '' Tell me, oh, tell ! Shall my Reiiheii no more be restored to m}^ eyes?" " Yes, 3TS — when a spirit shall toll the great hell Of the mould'ring abbey, your lleuben shall rise ! " Twice, thrice he repeated " Your Reuljen shall rise ! " And Rose felt a moment's release from her pain ; And wiped, while she listen'd, the tears from her eyes, And hoped slic might yet see her hero again. That hero could smile at the teri-ors of death, When he felt 'that he died for the sire of his Rose; To the Oder he flew, and there, plunging beneath, In the depth of the billows soon found his repose. — How strangely the order of destiny fiills ! — Not long in the Avaters the warrior lay, When a sunbeam was seen to glance over the walls. And the enstlc of ^\'illun1berg bask'd in the ray I All, all but the soul of the maid was in light, There sorrow and terror lay gloomy and blank : Two days did she wander, and all the long night, In quest of her love, on the wide river's bank. Oft, oft did she pause for the toll (.f the bell. And heard but the breathings of night in the air ; TiOng, long did she gaze on the watery swell. And saw but the foam of tlic wliite billow there. And often as niidnight its veil would undraw, As she look'd at the light of the moon in the stream. She thought 't was his helmet of silver she saw. As the curl of the surge glitter'd high in the beam. 59 Ami now the third night was bogomniing the sky ; Poor Rose, on the cold dewy margcnt reclined, There wept till the tear almost froze in her eye, 'When — hark ! — 'twas tlic l)cll tliat camt' (lecp in tlio wind ! She startled, and saw, through the glininicring shade, A form o'er tlic waters in majesty glide : She knew 'twas her love, though his cheek was decay 'd, And his helmet of silver was wash'd by the tide. Was this what the Seer of the Cave had foretold ? — Dim, dim through the phantom the moon shot a gleam ; 'Twas Reuben, but, ah ! he was deathly and cold. And fleeted away like the spell of a dream ! Twice, thrice did he rise, and as often she thought Fx'om the bank to embrace him, but vain her endeavour! Then, plunging beneath, at a billow she caught, And sunk to repose on its bosom for ever ! ()() THEE, TIIEE, ONLY THEE. HK tlawuing of morn, the ilayliglit's siiikiiig. The night's long hours still find me thinking Of thee, thee, only thee. i-'^k' When friends are met, ami gohlets erown'd, And smiles are near, that once enchanted, Unreach'd hy all that sunshine round, My soul, like some dark spot, is haunted By thee, thee, only thee. Whatever in fame's high path could waken My spirit once, is now forsaken For thee, thee, only thee. Like shores, hy ■which some headlong hark To th' ocean hurries, resting nevei', Ijife's scenes go hy me, hright oi' dark, 1 know not, heed not, hastening ever To thee, thee, only thee. 1 have not a joy hut of thy hringing, And pain itself seems sweet when springing From thee, thee, only thee. Like spells, that nought on earth can break, Till lips, that know the charm, have spoken, This heart, howe'er the world may wake Its "'rief, its scorn, can hut be broken 13y thee, thee, only thee. THE STEERSMAN'S SONG, WRITTEN ABOARD THE BOSTOX FRIGATE 28tH APRIL. Whj:n ft-eslily blows the northern gale, And under conrfios snno- we flv ; 62 Or wlicn liglit breezes swell the sail. Ami royals proudly sweep the sky ; 'Longsitle the wheel, unwearied still I stand, and, as luy wateliful eve Doth mark the needle's faithful thrill, I think of her I love, and cry, Port, my hoy I port. A\ hen calms delay, or breezes blow Kight fi'om the point we wish to steei' : AVhen by the wind close-haul'd we go, And strive in vain the port to near ; I think 't is thus the fates defer My bliss with one that's far away, And while remembrance springs to her, 1 watch the sails and sighing say, Thus, my boy ! thus. But see the wind draws kindly aft. All hands are up the yards to square. And now the Heating stu'n-sails waft Our stately ship through waves and air. Oh ! then I think that yet for me Some breeze of fortune thus may spring. Some breeze to waft me, love, to thee — And in that hope I smiling sing, Stead V, bov ! so. 63 DESMOND'S SONG. P,^ 1 ILT- To tliy door by Love liglitc I first saw those eyes. Some voice whisper'd o'er me, As the threshold I crost, There was ruin before me, If I loved, I was lost. Love came, and broiiobt sorrow Too soon in his train ; Yet so sweet, that to-mori'6w 'Twere welcome again. Though misery's full measure My portion should be, T would drain it with pleasui'e, If [lour'd out by thee. You, who call it dishonour To bow to this flame, If you 'vo c^'cs, look but on her, And blush Avhile you blame. Hath the pearl less whiteness Because of its birth ? Hath the violet less brightness For growing near earth ? 64 Xo — Mail tor his ^Kny 7'o .iiK-estry Hies ; But Woman's bright 8toiy Is told in her eyes. While the IMonan-li hut trace- Through mortals his line, licauty, born of the Graces, Ranks next to Divine ! SHE SUNG OF LOVE. HE sung of Love, while o'er her lyre The rosy rays of evening fell, As if to feed, with their soft fire. The soul within that trembling shell. The same rich light hung o'er her cheek. And play'd around those lips that sung And spoke, as flowers would sing and speak If Love could lend their leaves a tongue. Hut soon the West no longer burn'd. Each rosy ray from heav'n withdrew ; And, when to gaze again I tui'u'd. The minstrel's form .seem'd fading too. As it" her liulil an t'ldin a paitiinj,' spirit, rainc. Who vwv loved, liut had the tlmiii;'lit Tliat ho and all he loved nmst part ? Fiil'd with this fear, I flew and eaught The fading image to my heart — And cried, •' O Love ! is tliis thy doom O hght of youth's resi)lendent day I Must ye then lose your gohlen hlonni. And thus, like sunshine, di(> awav ?" r,() THE NIGHT DANCE TJUKE tlie i;ay Imip ! soe the moon is on higli. And. as ti'ue to liei' beam as the tides of tlie ocean, ^'ounof hearts, wlien thev feel the soft hijht of her v\i'. Obey tlie mute call, and heave into motion. Then, sound notes — the gayest, the lightest, That ever took M'ing, Avhen heav'n look'd luightest ! Again ! Again ! Oh I could such heart-stirring music be heaid In that City of Statues described by romancei's, So walv'ning its spell, even stone would be stirr'd, And statues themselves all start into dancers ! Why then delay, with such sounds in our ears, And the flower of Beauty's own garden before us, — While stars overhead leave the song of their spheres. And list'ning to ours, hang wondering o'er us? Again, that strain ! — to hear it thus sounding- Might set even Death's cold pulses bounding — Again ! Again ! Oh, what delight when the youthful and gay. Each with eye like a sunbeam and foot like a feather, Thus dance, like the Hours to the music of IVfay, And minjile sweet sone; and sunshine together ! THE WO(^DPECKER. r KNEW hy the smoke, that so gracefully euri'd Above the oreeu elms, tliat a eottao-e was neai 08 And I said, " If there's |ieiice lo Ite found in the world, A heart that was hunilile niiy any but mine!"* V^v ^ -. ^_/^-5^ SING— SING- MUSIC WAS GIVEN. ,yr^i^^ lX(ii — sing — JMusic was given. ^■^^^L - 'I'o bi'isihten the gay, and kindle the lovino Souls here, like planets in heaven. By harmony's laws alone are kept moving. Beautv may boast of lu'r eyes and her clieek- liul T.ove from the liiis his true arclierv wings; 09 And she, who Imt t'cntliers the d.nt wlicn she s|ic;illic >iiii;> Tlicn sing — sing — .Music wiis givt'o. To brighten the gav, and kindle (lie loviiii; ; Souls here, hke planets in heaven. \i\ harnienv's laws alone are ke|il nniving. W hen Love, roek'd hy his niothei'. Lay sleeping as calm as shnnher niuld make him. •' Hush, hush," said Venus, " no other Sweet voice but his own is worthy to wake him." Dreaming of music he shnnherM the while Till faint from his lip a sol'l melody broke. And Venus, enchanted, look'd on with a smile, While Love to his own sweet singing awoke. Then .sing — sing — Music was given. To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving; Souls here, like planets in heaven. I?v harm(in\"s laws alone are kenl niovini;-. i^*i 70 IN THE MOHNINOI OF \A\'K. X tlie mornino- of life, wlicii its earcs arc unknown, y And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin, fj When Ave live in a brii>ht-heamino; world of our own And the liyht that surrounds us is all from within Oh 'tis not, believe me, in that happy time \\"e can love, as in hours of less transport we may ; — Of our smiles, of om- hopes, 'tis the gay sumiy prime, But affection is tiuest when these fade away. AVheii we see the first glory of youth pass us by. liike a leaf on the stream that will nevei- retuiii ; When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure so liigh. First tastes of the other, the dark-flowing urn ; Then, then is the time when affection htdds sway With a dejith and a tenderness joy never knew ; Tiove. nursed among pleasures, is faithless as they. But llic Invc liorn of Sorrow, like Sorrow, is true. In climes full of sunshine, though spK'udid the fiowers, Their sighs have no freshness, their odour no worth ; 'Tis the cloud and the mist of our own Isle of showt'rs, That call the rich spirit of fragrancy forth. So it is not mid sjdendour, ])rosperity, mirth. That the depth of Love's geneious spirit appears ; To the sunshine of smiles it may first owe its birth. But the soul of its sweetness is diawn out bv tears. '\^'1j*^ ap rfe ^11. LESBIA HATH A BEAMING EYE. ESBTA liatli a 1>oainiii,ii- q\o, But 111) one knows for whom it bcanioth ; Ki^llt and Irft its arrows fly, I>ut wtiat tlu'v aim at no one divametli. 72 Ssvt'c'U'r *t i> ti) nazi' u|m>ii My Nora'.s lid that .sc'ldoni rises ; I'cw its looks. Imt overv one, hike iiiK-xpuftt'd li^lit, sur])nses I Oh, my Xuia C'lviiia. deai'. My yontlo. liaslit'ul Xma ( 'ifina. Ijeauty lies Tn many ovl's, liiir Lnvc in voiirs. mv Xora Civiiia licsliia wears a mlie of gold, I Jut all so close the nymph hath laced it. Mot a charm of beauty's mould Presumes to stay where Nature placed it. Oh I my Xora's gown for me. That floats as wild as mountain hreezes. Leaving evei'v beauty free 'i'o sink or swell as Heaven pleases. Yes, my Nora Creina, dear, My simple, graceful Nora Creina, Nature's dress Is loveliness — The di'ess you wear, my Noia Creina. T^esbia hath a wit relincd, But, wheu its points are gleaming rouiul us Who can tell if they 're desigu'd To dazzle merely, or to wound us ? Pillow'd on my Nora's heart, Tn safei' sluniiier Jjove leposcs — Bed of peace I whose loughest part Ts but the crumpling of the roses. 73 ( >li I inv Nuia ( 'ri'iua, i\vi\v. y\\ mild, inv artk'iss JS'ura Ci'i'ina I Wit, thouoli biii-ht, llatli no siu'h li^ht, As waiins vuur cvi's, iiiv JS'ora ("iviiia SONG. SxVA\", from yoiulor silent oave, Two Fountains running, side by side, The one was Mem'ry's limpid wave. The other cold Oblivion's tide. '■ Oh Love !" said I, in thoughtless mood As deep I drank of Lethe's stream, Be all my sorrows in this flood Forffotten like a vanish'd dream ! " lint who coidd bear that gloomy blaidv, Where joy was lost as well as pain ? Quickly of Mem'ry's fount I drank. And brought the past all back again ; And said, " Oh Love ! whate'er my lot. Still let this soul to thee be true — Eather than have one bliss forgot, Be all my pains remeudjer'd too ! " 10 I WISH I WAS ];y that dim lakk. WISH T was I.y tliat .lim l.akv, ^^'here sinful souls tlifir faiewell takr Of this vain world, aiul half-way liu la death's cold shadow, ore they die. There, there, far from thee. Deceitful world, my home should he ; \\ here, come what might of gloom and jtain, I'alse hope should ne'er deceive again. '\'\\v lifeless sky, the mournful sound Of unseen waters falling round ; The dry leaves, quiv'ring o'er my head, Like man, imquiet ev"n when dead ! These, ay, these shall wean My soul from life's deluding scene, And turn each thought, o'ercharged with gloom, Like willows, downward tow'rds the tomh. As they, who to their couch at night Would win repose, first quench the light. So must the hopes, that keep this bi-east Awake, be quench'd, ere it can rest. Cold, cold, this heart must grow, L'nmoved hy either joy or woe. Like freezing founts, where all that's tin-own AN'ithin tlieir current turns to stone. LINES WRITTEN AT THE COHOS, OR FALLS OF THE MOHAWK RIVER. Gia era in loco ove s' utUa '1 rinibointin Deir aofnia . Hantk. ROM rise of moin till sot of sun I 'vo soon tlio miii-hty ^Fnliawk run ; And ns ] ninrkM the woods of |>ino Alono- liis niiiim- dniklv >liino. 76 liiUc tall anil ulixnny t'i)iiii> that i»ass Px'foic the wizard's midiiiglit i^las> : .\iiil as I vicwM lln' Imtiying j»aci' W i(li wliicli he rail his tuibid I'at-c, Uusliiiii;', alike uiitiivd and wild, Tiirough sliades that frowu'cl and tlnwci-s that sinilcfl Flying by every green recess That woo'd liim to its calm caress, Yet sometimes tinning with llie wind. As if to leave one look hehind, — Oft have I thought, and thinking sighM, How like to thee, thou restless tide, May he the lot, the life of him Who roams along thy water's brim ; Through what alternate wastes of woe And flowers of joy my path may go ; How many a shelter'd, calm retreat May woo the while my weary feet, While stiU pursuing, still unblest, I wander on, nor dare to rest ; But, urgent as the doom that calls Thy water to its destined foils, T feel the world's bewild'ring force Hurry my heart's devoted course From lapse to lapse, till life be done, And the spent current cease to run. One only prayer I dare to make, As onward thus my course I take ; — Oh, be my falls as bright as thine ! ]\[ay heaven's relenting rainbow shine Upon the mist that circles me, As soft as now it hangs o'er thee ! DIJTXK TO TT|-,i; . KIN K to licr, who Ion;;' llatli walu'il the poet's 'I'lic oil'] who o-ivvc to son; Wliat gold could ncvov ( )li ! woman's heart was made For minstrel hands alone ; By other fingers play'd, It yields not half the tone. Thou here's to her, avIio long Ilath waked the poet's sigh, Tlie girl who gave to song What gold Could never l)nv. siu'li At Beauty's door of glass, ^^^len Wealth and Wit once stood. They ask'd her, " Which might pass?' She answer'd, " lie M-ho could." With golden key W^ealth thought To pass — but 'twould not do: While Wit a diamond brought, Which cut his liright way through. So here's to her, who long Ilath waked the poet's sigh. The girl who gave to song What gold could never buv. The lovo that seeks a homo A\niero wealth or grandeur sliines Ts like the gloomy gnome, Tliat dwells in dark gold mines. I5ut oh I the ])oct's love Can boast a ln'inbter s] there ; 78 Its native lioiiic '> aliDVc. Tho' woman kccjis it licro. Then drink to her, who long Ilath waked the poet's sigh, The gill wlio gave to song What ffold could ni'vcr liii\ . nV THAT LAKE, WHOSE GLOOMY SHORE. Y that Lake, whose gloomy shore iSky-lark iK^ver wai'hies o'er. \\ hcic tlic clilt' lumgs high and stcc]) Young Saint Kevin stole to slee]t. " Here, at least," he calmly said, " Woman ne'er shall find my l)ed." Ah! the good Saint little knew AN hat that wilv sex cnn do. 70 "'^\va^^ tViiiii Kallik-on's vycs In- Hrw. Eyes of must uuIkiIv liliic I She liad loved liiiii well and loiin', W'ish'd him hers, imr thought it wroiiy. Whort'soe'er the saint wouUl fly, Still he heard her light foot nigh ; East or west, where'er he turn'd, Still licr eyes hefore liini ImrnM. (_)n tlie I)ol(l c'litt's ho.soni cast, Tranquil now he sleeps at last ; Dreams of heav'n, nor thinks that e'er AN'onian's smile can haunt him there. But nor earth nor heaven is free From her power, if fond she be : Even now, while calm he sleeps, Kathleen o'er him leans and weeps. Fearless she had track'd his feet To this rocky, wild retreat ; And when morning met his view, Her mild glances met it too. Ah, your saints have cruel hearts ! Sternly from his hed he starts, And with rude repulsive shock. Hurls her from the beetling rock. Glendalough, thy gloomy wave Soon was gentle Katlileen's grave ! Soon the Saint (yet ah ! too late) Felt her love, and mourn'd her fiite. When he said, " Heaven rest her soul ! " Kouiul the Lake light music stole ; And her ghost was seen to glide, Smiline,- o'er the fatal tide. l-^iiltMllrfl 'h <""V''^^t^-.^. THE GAZELLE. 08T thou not hoar tlie silver hrll, Through yonder lime-trees liugiug ? "Tis my lady's light gazelle, 'i'o lue her love-thoughts bringing, — SI All tlu' while that mIv.t Ik'II Anmiiil liis il.iik iierk iiiii;iiin'. Sec. in his iiunith he licars a wreath My love hath kiss'd in tying ; Oh, what tender thoughts hencath Those silent flowers are lying, — Hid within the mystic wreath My love hath kissM in tying 1 AN'clconic. dear gazelU', to thee, And joy to her, the fairest. A\lio thus hath breathed her soul tn nie. In every leaf tliou bearest ; Welcome, dear gazelle, to thee. And joy to her, the fairest I Hail ! ye living, speaking flowers, That breathe of her who bound ye ; Oh, 't was not in flelds, or bowei's. 'Twas on her lips, she found ye ; — Yes, ye blushing, speaking flowers, 'Twas on her lips she found ye. 11 82 NETS AND CAGES. (SWEDISH AIR.) OME, listen to my story, wliile Your needle's task you ply ; At what I sing some maids will smile, While some, perhaps, may sigh. Though Love's the theme, and Wisdom blames Such florid songs as ours, Yet Truth sometimes, like Eastern dames. Can speak her thoughts by flowers. Then listen, maids, come listen, while Your needle's task you ply ; At what I sing there's some may smile, Wliile some, perhaps, M'ill sigli. Young Cloe, bent on catching Loves, Such nets had learn'd to frame. That none, in all our vales and groves, E'er caught so much small game : But gentle Sue, less giv'n to roam. While Cloe's nets were taking- Such lots of Loves, sat still at home. One little Love-cage making. Come, listen, maids, &c. Much Cloe laugh'd at Susan's task ; Eut mark how things went on : These light-caught Loves, ere you could ask Their name and age, were gone ! So weak poor Cloe's nets were wove. That, though she charm'd into them 83 New game each hour, the ynunoest Love Was able to hroak thiough thoni. Come, listen, mauls, itc. Meanwhile, young Sue, whose cage was wrought Of bars too strong to sever, One Love with golden pinions caught. And caged him there for ever ; Instructing, thereby, all coquettes, Whate'er their looks or ages. That, though 't is pleasant wea\ing Nets, 'Tis wiser to make Cages. Thus, maidens, thus do I beguile The task your fingers ply. — May all who hear like Susan smile, And not, like Cloe, sigh ! WHO'LL BUY MY LOVE-KNOTS? (PORTUGUESE AIR.) YMEN, late, his love-knots selling, Call'd at many a maiden's dwelling ; None could doubt, who saw or knew them, Hymen's call was welcome to them. " Who'll buy my love knots? "NMio'll buy my love-knots?" Soon as that sweet cry resounded. How his baskets were suri-oundod I 84 Maidfi, who now tirst dreamt of trying These gay knots of Jlynien's tying; Dames, who long liad sat to watcli liini Passing by, but ne'er coidd eateh him ; — " A\'ho'll buy my love-knots ? Who'll buy my love-knots ?" — All at that sweet cry assembled; Some laugh'd, some blush'd, and some trcniblei " J[ei'C are knots," said Hymen, taking Some loose flowers, " of Love's own making ; Here are gold ones — you jnay trust 'em " — (These, of coui'se, found ready custom). " Come, buy my love-knots I Come, buy my love-knots ! Some are labell'd ' Knots to tie men — Love the maker — Bought of Hymen,' '' Scarce their bargains were completed. When the nymphs all cried, '' We're cheated I See these flowers — they're droojiiiig sadly ; 'J'his gold-knot, too, ties but badly — Who'd buy such love-knots? WhoM buy such love-knots? Imcu this tie. with Love's name round it — All a sham — He never bound it."* Love, who saw the whole jirocet-ding, Would have laugh'd, Iiut for good-breeding : \\ liilc ( )l(l irymcu, who was used to Cries like that these dames gave loose to — " Take back our love-knots ! Take back our love-knots!" (■ooUy said, '• There's no returning AVares oil JlyiiK'n's hands — (food inoniiiig I " OH, COME TO ME WHEN DAYLIGHT SETS. (VENETIAN AIR.) Oh, come to me when daylight sots ; Sweet ! then come to me, 86 When smootldy go our goiidolots O'er the moonlit sea ; ^^^lcn Mirth's awake, ami Love l)pgiii> Beneath that glancing ray, AVith sound of lutes and mandolins, To steal young hearts away. Then, come to me when daylight sets ; Sweet ! then come to me, \Mieii smoothly go our gondolets O'er the moonlit sea. Oh, then's the hour for those who love, Sweet ! like thee and me ; A¥hen all 's so calm helow, ahove, In hoav'n and o'er the sea ; When maidens sing sweet harcarolles. And Echo sings again So SM'eet, that all with ears and souls Should love and listen then. So, come to me when daylight sets ; Sweet ! then come to me, VMien smoothly go our gondolets O'er the moonlit sea. 87 LOVE AND PALLAS. S Love, one summer eve, was straying, ' "NMio should lie see, at tliat soft hour, -^ But young ]Mhierva, gravely playing '>«i^<_ Tflev flute within an olive bow'r. I need not say, 'tis Love's opinion That, grave or merry, good or ill. The sex all bow to his dommion, As woman will be woman still. Though seldom yet the boy hath giv'n To learned dames his smiles or sighs, So handsome Pallas look'd, that ev'n Love quite forgot the maid was wise. Besides, a youth of his discerning Knew well that, by a shady rill, At sunset hour, whate'er her learning, A woman will be woman still. Her flute he praised in terms ecstatic, — Wishing it dumb, nor cared how soon ; — For Wisdom's notes, howe'er chromatic. To Love seem always out of tune. But long as he found face to flatter, The nymph found breath to shake and thrill ; As weak or wise — it doesn't matter — Woman, at heart, is woman still. Love changed his plan, with warmth exclaiming, " How rosy was her lip's soft dye ! " And much that flute, the flatt'rer, blaming, For twisting lips so sweet awry. 8S Tho nyinith luuk'd tluwn, beheld luT features Keflected in the passing rill. And started, sliock'd— for, ah, ye creatines I Ev'n wlien divine, you'ie women still. Quick from the lips it made so odious, That graceless flute the Goddess took, And, while yet fiU'd with breath melodious. Flung it into the glassy brook ; AN'hcre, as its vocal life was fleeting Adown the current, faint and shi-ill, 'T was heard in plaintive tone repeating, " Woman, alas, vain Moraan still ! " SAIL ON, SAIL ON. AIL on, sail on, thou fearless bark — %« Wherever blows the welcome wind, It cannot lead to scones moi-o dark, ]\Iore sad than those we leave behind. Each wave that passes seems to say, " Though death beneath om* smile may be Less cold we are, less false than they, A^lioso smiling wreek'd thy hopes and thee." S9 Sail on, sail uii, — tliruugli cikIIcss space — Tliroui;li calm — tlirougli tempest — stop no iiimi 'riic slonniest sea's a iestiiii;-plaee To him who leaves such hearts on shore. Or — if some dcsei't land wc meet. Where never yet false-hearted men Profaned a world, that else were sweet, — Then rest thee, bark, but not till then. '^:-. ^'X-^ SONO. IK) comes so craccfiillv ( ilidin^ ;iliiiiM , Whil.- Tlic Mnr rivulet Sleeps to her song ; 12 90 Suiiii. rirlily vying' W'itli till' t'iiint sighing W'liicli .swans, in dying. Sweetly prolong?"' So sung the shepherd-boy By the stream's side, \\'atching that fairy boat Down the flood glide, Like a bird winging, Through the waves bringing That Syi'en, singing To the hush'd tide " Stay," said the shepheid-boy " Fairy-boat, stay, Linger, sweet minstrelsy, Linger, a day." But vain his pleading : Past him. unheeding, Song and boat, speeding. Glided away. So to our youthful eyes Joy and liope shone ; So, while we gazed on tlioin, Fast they flew on ; — Like flow'rs, declining Ev'n in the twining. One moment shining. And, the next, gone I OH. THE SIGHT ENTRANCING. II, the sight entniuchig, AMieu mornine-'s beam is ohiiuMiii>- O'er files arraj'd With helm and l)laclo, And plumes, in the gay wind dancing I !>2 \\ lirii licarts are nil high beatiiiii. Viid the trumpet's vuice repeatinti; That song, whose breath May lead to death, But never to retreating. ( )h, the sight entrancing, When morning's beam is glancing O'er files array'd With helm and blade. And plumes, in the gay wind dancing ! Yet, 'tis not helm or feather — For ask yon tlespot, whether llis plumed bamls Could bring such hands And hearts as oiu's together. Leave pomps to those who need 'em — Give man but heart and freedom, And proud he braves The gaiidiest slaves That crawl where monarchs lead 'em. The sword may pierce the beaver, Stone walls in time may sever, 'Tis mind alone. Worth steel and stone. That keeps men free for ever. Oh that sight entrancing, Wlien the morning's beam is glancing. O'er files array'd With helm and blade. And in Freedom's cause advancing ! on OH, DAYS OF YOUTH. (FRKNC'H aiu.) ^ Jl ilay.s of yuutli and juv. long eloudctl. Why thus for ever haunt my view ? Wlien in the grave your hght lay siuoutlcd Wliy did nut Memory die there loo '! Vaiidy dotli Hope her strain now «ing me, 'LV'Uing of joys that yet rema'in — No, never more can this life bring \m- One joy that equals youth's sweet pain. Dim lies the way to death before me, Cohl winds of Time blow round my brow : Sunshine of youth ! that once fell o'er me, Wliere is your warmth, your glory now ? ' Tis not that then no pain could sting me ; "Tis not that now no joys remain ; Oh, 'tis that life no more can bring me One jov so sweet as that worst pain. '•t«7^ OFT, I>f THE STILLY INIGHT. (scotch air.') FT, in the stilly night. Ere Shnnber's chain has bound iik Fond Memory brings the light Of other davs around me ; 94 Tlie t^niilcs, the tears, Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken ; The eyes that slione, Xow (lininiM uiid gone, The cheerful hearts now hicjken ! Thus, m the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain hath bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. When I remember all The fi-iends, so link'd together. I've seen around me fall, Like leaves in winti-y weather ; T feel like one, WTio treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Wliose lights are fled, Wliose garlands dead, And all but he departed ! Thus, in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound mc. Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around rae. Br^'^^^^^^^^^i^^^^^P^^^ 1)5 AVHEN LOVE WAS A CHILD. (SWEDISH AlU.) rHEX Love was iv diild, and went idliiii;- voww 'Mong flowers, the whole summer's (hi\ . One morn in the valley a bower lie fninid. So sweet, it allured him to stav. O'erhead, from the trees, hung a garland fair. A fountain ran darkly beneath ; — "Twas Pleasure had hung up the flow'rets then Love knew it, and jump'd at the wreath. But Love didn't know— and, at his woak yeal■^ What lU'chin was likely to know ? — That Sorrow had made of her own salt tears The fountain that murmur'd below. Pie caught at the wi'cath — but with too nnieh liaste As boys when impatient will do — ft fell in those waters of briny taste, And the flowers were all wet through. This garland he now^ wears night and day ; And, though it all sunny appears ^^'itb Pleasure's own light, each leaf, they say, Still tastes of the Fountain of Tears. SWEET INNISEA EEEK. Swi.KT liiiiist'nllcii, faro tln'(> well. Mav ealin and smisliine loiiir lie tliiiio I [)] ITow fair thou avl let dilici- idl. — To/etl how fair (iit n note her nigiit-liird sighs, 'J'he rose saith. cirKliniiiv. •• Jlusli. sweet, hush I" There, amid the di'cp silence of that hour. When stars can be heard in ocean dip, Thyself shall, under some rosy bower. Sit mute, witli thy finger on thy lij) : m Jvike liiin, tlic imv. win) hum uiuoiil;' The flowers that on tlie Nile-.streani liliish. Sits ever thus, — hi-- onlv s(in<;- To earth ami lu'avrn. ■• llii-h. all. hu>li !" ALL THAT'S BRIOHT MUST FADE. LL that 's bright must fade. The l)rio-htest still the Heetest ; All that's sweet was made, -But to be lost when sweetest. Stars that shine and fall ; — The flower that drops in springing ;— These, alas ! are ty]ies of all To which our hearts are clinging. 1 ()( » All that's bright must fade, — The brightest still the fleetest ; All that's sweet was made But to l»c lost when sweetest ! Vilm would seek or prize Delights that end in aching ? \\1i() would trust to ties That every hour are breaking? Better far to be In utter darkness lying, Than to be bless'd with light and sei That light for ever flying. All that's bright must fade, — The bi'ightest still the fleetest ; All that^'s sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest ! Jb J so WARMLY AVE MET. O warmly we met and so fondly we parted. That which was the sweeter ev'n I could not tell,— 'i'hat first look of welcome her sumiy eyes darted, ( )r that tear of passion, which blest our farewell. 101 To meet was a lioavcii, ami to part thus anothoi-, — Our joy and our sorrow secniM rivals in l)!iss ; (_>li I Cupid's two eyes are not likei- eaeh other Tu smiU's and in tears, than that moment to tliis. Tlie Hrst was like day-hivak, new, sudden, delieious, — The dawn of a pleasure scarce kindled up yet ; The last like the farewell of daylight, more precious, More glowing and deep, as 'tis nearer its set. Our meeting, though happy, was tinged hy a sorrow To think that such happiness could not remain ; While our parting, though sad, gave a hope that to-niori'ow AN ould bring Itack tlie Mess'd houi' of meeting again. FARE THEE WELL, THOU LOVELY ONE ! ARE thee well, thou lovely one ! Lovely still, hut dear no more ; Once his soul of truth is gone, Love's sweet life is o'er. Thy words, whate'er their flatt'ring spell. Could scarce have thus deceived; 102 liiit ovos that acted ti'iitli su well Were sine to Ijc bolit'vcd. Tlieii, fare thee well, thovi lovely one I Lovely still, but dear no more ; Once his soul of truth i^ p-oiie, Tjove'.s sweet life is o'er. Yet those eyes hx)k constant still. True as stars they kee[» their Hi^ht ; Still those cheeks their pledoe fnltil Of blushing always bright. 'T is only on thy changeful heart The blame of falsehood lies ; TiOve lives in every other part, But there, alas ! he dies. Then, fare thee well, thou lovely one I Lovely still, but dear no more ; Once his soul of truth is gojte. Love's sweet life is o'er. WIITTTEX OK PASSING DKADMAN'S ISLAND, In the Giir.F of St. [.awkence, IhIi //? the Evening, Septemher, 1805. ^t^EE you, beneath yon cloud so dark, <- J/>jr ^ Fast gliding along a gloomy bark ? rjy ^ , Her sails are full, — tliougb the wind is still, ^uf W And there blows not a breath her sails to fill I ()4 S;iv wli.ii (Idtli lliat VL'rist'l of darkness licar ? Tlic sil(>iit calm of llio o-ravc is tliei'o. Save now and again a deatli-knoll iuni>'. And tlic flap of tlu' sails with niglit-foo- lunio-. 'Plicrc liotli a wreck on the dismal shore < )f cdld and pitiless Lalirador; \\ iiere. nnder the moon, npoii nioimts of frost, l'"ull many a mariner's hones are tost. Yon shadowy I)ai-k hath heen to that wreck. And the dim l.hie Are. that lights iier deck. Doth play on as pale and livid a crew As ever yet drank the churchyard dew. To Deadman's Isle, in the eye of the blast, To Deadman's Isle, she speeds her fast ; By skeleton shapes her sails ai'e fnilM, And the hand that steers is not of this worlil I Oh I luuiT thee on — oh 1 hurry thee on, Thou terrible bark, ere the night be gone, Nor let morning look on so foid a sight As would blanch for ever her rosy light I lO.") THE TUKF SHALL BE MY FKAGKANT SIIIUXE. HE turf .shall be my fragrant shrine ; ■).i| My temple, Loud ! that Ai'ch of thine ; ^» My censer's breatli the mountain airs, Anil silent tli(>ui;lits my only prayers. ]My choir shall he tlie moonlit waves, AVhcn nun'nrring homeward to their eaves, Or when the stillness of tlie sea. Even more than music, breathes of Thee I 1 "11 seek, by tlay, some glade unknown, All light and silence, like thy Throne ; And the pale. stars shall be, at night. The only eyes that watch my rite. Thy heaven, on which 'tis bhss to look, Shall be my pure and shining book, Where I shall read, in words of flame The glories of thy wondrous name. 1 "11 read thy anger in the rack That clouds awhile the day-beam's track ; Thy mercy in the azure hue Of sunny brightness, breaking through. There's nothing bright, above, below, From flowers that bloom to stars that glow, But in its light my soul can see Some feature of thy Deity. 11 106 There's iiotliiiig dark, below, above, But ill its gloom I trace thy Love, Ami meekly wait that moment, when Tliv touch shnll tuiii nil bright a<>-ain ! LIKE OXE WHO, DOOM'D. IKE one who, doom'tl o'er distant seas His weary path to measure, AMicn homo at length, Avith fav'ring bi'eeze, Ho brings the far-sought treasure ; His shij), in sight of shore, goes do\ra, That shore to which he hasted ; And all the wealth he thought his own Is o'er the waters wasted. Like him, this heart, thro' many a track Of toil and sorrow straying, One hope alone brought fondly back, Its toil and grief repaying. Like him, alas ! I see that ray Of hope before me perish. And one dark minute sweep away What years were oiven to cherish. 107 WHO IS THE MAID? ST. JEROMES LOVE. IIO is the INIaid my spirit seeks, Througli colli reproof and slander's l»liglit ? Has she Love's roses on lier checks ? Is hers an eye of this world's light ? No — wan and sunk Avith midnight prayer Are the pale looks of her I love ; Or if, at times, a Ught be there, Its beam is kindled fi-om above. I chose not her, my heart's elect, From those who seek their Maker's shrine In gems and garlands proudly deck'd, As if themselves were things divine. No — Heaven hut faintly warms the breast That beats beneath a broider'd veil; And she who comes in glitt'ring vest To mourn her frailty, still is frail. Not so the faded form I prize And love, because its bloom is gone ; The glory in those sainted eyes Is all the grace her brow puts on. And ne'er was Beauty's dawn so briglit. So touching as that form's decay. Which, like the altar's trembling light. In holv lustre wastes awav. DOST THOU KE^rEMBER. OST lliou loinoinlH'r lliat ]>lnco so Idiidy. A place for lovers, and lovers only. AVhei-e first I told thee all mv seeref slolis? When, as tlie nionnbeani, that trcnihltMl o\r tlieo, 109 llliiiiiL'il tliy liluslics, I knelt hotoic tlico, And read 1113' liopc's sweet triunipli in tliose oyos ? Then. llu'ii. while closely heart was drawn to heart. Love hound ns — never, never inor(> to part ! And wluMi I caird thee hy names the dearest 'J'hat love could fancy, the fondest, nearest, — " My life, my only life I" amono- the rest ; Tn those sweet accents tluit still enthial me, Thou saidst, " Ah ! wherefore thy life thus call me? Thy soul, thy soul's the name that I love host ; For life soon passes, — hut how hless'd to he That Soul whirh never, never parts from thee I" THERE IS A BLEAK DESERT. i^lU^j^lIEIvE is a Itleak Desert, where dayliolit ^rows '~^ weary Of wasting its smile on a region so dreary — What may that Desert he ? 'Tis Life, cheerless Life, where the few joys tliat come Are lost like that davlicht, for "tis not theii- home. no There is a lone J-'ilgriin, lieforc whose foint e\'os The watei' lie yiaiits for hut sparkles aiul flies — ■ ^\'llO may that Pilgrim he ? 'T is Man, hapless Man, through this Life tempted on By fair shining hopes, that in shining are gone. There is a hright Fountain, through that Desert stealing, To pure lips alone its refi'cshment revealing — AVliat may that Fountain be ? 'T is Truth, holy Truth, that, like springs under giound. By the gifted of heaA^en alone can be found. There is a foir Spirit, whose wand hath the spell To point where those waters in secrecy dwell — "VMio may that Spirit be ? 'T is Faith, humble Faith, who hath leai'n'd that, where'er Tier wand bends to worship, the Truth must he there ! Ill now LIGHTLY MOUNTS THE MUSE'S WING. ri#?OW liglitly muuiits the Muse's wing, "Whose theme is iu the skies — Like morning larks, that sweeter sing The nearer heav'n they rise. Though Love his magic lyre may tune, Yet ah ! the flow'rs he round it wreathes Were pluck 'tl beneath pale Passion's moon, Whose madness in their odour breathes. How purer far the sacred lute. Round wliich Devotion tics Sweet flow'rs that turn to heav'nly fruit. And palm that never dies ! Though ^^'ar's high-sounding harp may be ]Most welcome to the hero's ears, Alas I his chords of victory Are wet, all o'er, with human tears. How far more sweet their numltcrs run, Who hymn, like Saints above, No victor, but th' Eternal One, Xo trophies but of Love ! \-2 18 IT NOT SWEET TO THINK, HEREAFTER. 8 it not sweet to lliiiik, iKTcafter, 'i^jiAi^S \Mien the Spirit leaves this sphcvc, Love, with deathless wing, shall waft her To those she long hath niourn'd for here ? Hearts, from which 'twas death to sever, Eyes, this world can ne'er rcstoie. There, as warm, as Ijright as ever. Shall meet us and he lost no more. \\'hen wearily we wander, asking Of earth and heav'n, where are they, licneath whose smile we once lay haskiiig. Blest, and thinking bliss would stay? Hope still lifts her radiant tingcr. Pointing to th' eternal Home, Upon whose portal yet they linger, Looking back for us to come. Alas I alas ! doth Hope deceive us ? Shall friendship — love — shall all those ties That bind a moment, and then leave us. Be found again wliere nothing dies? Oh I if no other boon were given. To keep our hearts from wrong and stain, \\'ho would not try to win a heaven ^\'here all we love shall live ajraiu ? tt-^^^M l^v-^r- ^i^'^-^ ijj'iL FLOW ON, THOU SHINING RIVER. L()\\ (111, tluni sliiiiiiii;' rivLT ; But, eic fliou reach tlie sea. Seek Ella's bower, and give her Tlic wivatlis T flino- o'er tln-r. 114 And tell lier tlius, it" she'll Itc iiiiiic, The riirreiit of our lives shall he, With joys along their course to shine, Like those sweet flowers on tliee. But if, in wand'ring thither, Thou fintl'st she mocks my prayer, Then leave those wreaths to wither Upon the cold hank there ; And tell her thus, when youth is o'er. Her lone and loveless charms shall he Thrown hy upon life's weedy shore, Like those sweet flowers from thee. ERIN ! THE TEAR AND THE SMILE IN THINE EYES. IvIN ! the tear and the smile in thine eyes. Blend like the rainbow that hangs in thy skies ! Shining through sorrow's stream, Saddening through pleasure's l)eain, Thy suns with doubtful gleam Weep while they rise. 11, Eiiii ! thy silent tear never shall cease, Erin ! thy languid smile ne'er shall increase, Till, like the rainhow's light , Thy various tints unite, And form in heaven's sight One arch of peace ! ii; O THOU! WHO DRY'ST THE MOUKXEK'S TEAR. Hi; healetli tlio broken in licart,;iiHl l)iii(lutli up tlieir wouiuls." — /'6(////i cxlvii. 3. THOU ! who ilry'st the nioiiinei's tear, lluw ilai'k this worhl would be, It', when deceived and wounded here, We could not flj to Thee ! The friends who in our sunshine live, Wlien winter comes, are flown ; And he who has hut tears to give. Must weep those tears alone. Jiut Thou wilt heal that broken heart, Which, like the plants that throw '['heir fragrance from the wounded i)arl . IJreathes sweetness out of woe. When joy no longer soothes or cheers. And even the hope that threw A moment's sparkle o'er our tears, Is dimm'd and vanish'd too, Oh, who woidd bear life's stormy doom, Did not thy Wing of Love Come, brightly wafting through the gloom Our Peace-branch from above ? Then sorrow, touch'd by Thee, grows bright \\"ith more than rai)ture's ray ; As darkness shows us worlds of light ^\'e never saw by day ! 117 SONG. ^^ y\ T^"*^ ^'^'* ^"^'^ l>-.i THE VOICE. T came o'er her sleep, like a voice of those days, When love, only love, was the light of her ways ; And, soft as in moments of bliss long ago. It whisper'd her name from the garden beluw. 118 *' Alas I" sigli'd the maiden, " liow fancy can cheat I 'r\\r wdild once had lips that conld whis])er thu.s swcef; ]5iit eold nuw they sliiinher in yon I'atal dcej), ^^'llel•e, oh that heside them this heart too could sleeji I" She sunk on her pillow — hut no, "t was in vain To chase the illusion, that Voice came again ! She flew to the casement — hut, husli'd as the grave, In moonlight lay slumbering woodland and wave. " Oh sleep, come and shield me," in anguish she said, " From that call of the buried, that cry of the Dead !" And sleep came around her ; but, starting, she woke. For still from the garden that spirit Aoice spoke ! " I come," she exclaim'd, '• be thy home where it may, On earth or in heaven, that call I obey ; " Then forth through the moonlight, with heart beatijig fast And loud as a death-watch, the pale maiden past. Still round her the scene all in loneliness shone ; And still, in the distance, that Yoice led her on ; Uut whither she wander'd, by wave or by shore. None ever could tell, for she came back no more. 'No, ne'er came she back, — but the watchman who stood I'hat night in the tow'r which o'ershadows the flood, Saw dimly, 'tis said, o'er the moon-lighted spray, A youth on a steed bear the maiden away. A CANADIAN BOAT SONG. WRITTKN OX THE It I V E R ST. LAWREKCK. Et remi}?eni cantus hortatur. — Uuintii.ian. TJ^ATNTLY as tolls the evening; cliinic, Our voiocs keep tiiiic ami our nais keep time. 120 Soiiii ;\s (lie Woods on sliorc look tliiii. \\ c'll siiii;' iit St. Ann's oni' [lai'liiiL;' livnm. Ivow, brothers, row, the stream I'lins fast, The Eapids are near and the daylight's past. Wliv should we vet oni- sail unfiiil ? 'riicrc is not a Incatli tlie lihio wave to curl ; Hut. when tin' wind lilows oil' the sliorc. ut love is idolatry now ; But, ah — in her ti'emor the fatal lamp raising — A spaikle flew from it and driippM on his Innw. All's lost — with a start frojn his rosy sleep waking, The Spirit flasliM o'er bi'r his glances of fire ; Then, slow from the clasp of her snowy arms breaking, Thus said, in a voice more of sorrow than ire : " Farewell — what a dream thy suspicion hath broken ! Thus ever Aftection's fond vision is crost ; Dissolved are her spells when a doubt is but spoken, And love, once distiustcd. for ever is lost ! " 1« 122 THE HIGH-BORN LADYE X vain all the Kuightsj of the Untlcrwald woo'd hci", Though brightest of maidens, the proudest was she ; Brave chieftains they sought, and young minstrels they sued her, But worth}- were none of the high-born Ladye. " Whomsoever I wed," said this maid, so excelling, " That Knight must the conqu'ror of conquei'ors be ; He must place me in halls fit for monarchs to dwell in ;- None else shall be Lord of the high-born Ladve ! " Thus spoke the proud damsel, with scorn looking round her Oir Knights and on Nobles of highest degree ; Who humbly and hopelessly left as they found her, And worshipp'd at distance the high-born Ladye. At length came a Knight, from a far land to woo her, With plumes on his helm like the foam of the sea ; His vizor was down — but, with voice that thrill'd through her, He whisper'd his vows to the high-born Ladye. ' Proud maiden ! I come with high spousals to grace thee. In me the gi'eat conqu'ror of conquerors see ; Enthroned in a hall fit for monarchs I'll place thee, And mine thou 'rt for ever, thou high-born Ladye ! " The maiden she smiled, and in jewels array 'd her. Of tlirones and tiaras already dreamt she ; And proud was the step, as her bridegroom convey'd her In pomp to his home, of that high-born Ladye. But whither," she, starting, exclaims, " have you led me? Here's nought but a tomb and a dark cypress tree ; 123 Is M/.s tlie briglit palace in wliii-li tliuu wouldst wed nic?" "With scorn in her ghmcc, said tlie liigh-boin Ladye. " 'Tis the home," he re])Iied, " of earth's loftiest creatures " — Then lifted his liehn for the fair one to see ; But she sunk on the ground — 't was a skelctoi\'s features, And Death was the Lord of the high-born Ladye ! '•^a-^ WHEN ON THE LIP THE SIGH DELAYS. HEN on the lip the sigh delays, As if 't would linger there for ever ; ^Mien eyes would give the world to gaze, Yet still look down, and venture nevei" ; A\lien, though with fairest nymphs we rove, There's one vre dream of more than any — If all this is not real love, 'Tis somethino- wondrous like it, Fannv ! To think and ponder, when apart, On all we 've got to say at meeting ; And yet when near, with heart to heai't. Sit mute, and listen to their beating : To see but one bright object move, The only moon, where stars are many- If all this is not downright love, 1 prithee say what is, my Fanny ! SONG. life is like tlic mountaineer's, I [is home is near tlie sky, Where, throned ahove this world, he licars Its strife at distance die. Or, should the sound of hostile drum Proclaim below, " We come — we come," 125 Each crag tliat tow'rs in air Gives answer, " Come who (hire !" While, Hke hees, from ck'U and (hnglc, Swift the swarming warriors mingle. And their cry " Hurra !" will he, " Plurra, to victory !" Then, when hattle's hour is over, See the hapi)y mountain lovei'. With the nymjih, who'll soon ])v l.iidc Seated hlushing hy his side, — Every shadow of his lot In her sunny smile forgot. Oh, no life is like the mountaineer's, His home is near the sky, Where, throned ahove this world, he hears Its strife at distance die. Nor only thus through summer suns His hlithe existence cheerly runs — Ev'n winter, hleak and dim, Brings joyous hours to him ; "WTien, his rifle behind him flinging. He watches the roe-buck springing. And away, o'er the hills away. Re-echoes his glad " hurra." Then how blest, when night is closing. By the kindled hearth reposing, To his rebeck's drowsy song, He beguiles the hour along ; Or, provoked hy merry glances, To a brisker movement dances. Till, weary at last, in shinibcr's cliain, He dreams o'er chase and dance again — Dreams, dreams them o"rr again. 12() THE STRANGER. O^IE list, wliile I tell of the lieart-wouiided Stiaiigcr "VMio sleeps her last sluiiibci- in this haunted gi-umul ; \Micre often, at midnight, the lonely wood-ranger Ileai's soft fairy-music re-eclio around. ^oiic e'er knew the name of that heart-stricken lady, ITer lanouao-e, thou2;h sweet, none could e'er understand : But her features so simn'd, and her eyelash so shady, Bespoke her a child of some far Eastern land, 'T was one summer night, when the village lay sleeping, A soft strain of melody came o'er our ears ; So sweet, but so mournful, half song and half weeping. Like music that Sorrow had steej)'d in her tears. AVe thought 't was an anthem some angel had sung us ; — But, soon as the day-heams had gush'd from on high, With wonder we saw this bright stranger among us, All lovely and lone, as if stray'd from the sky. Nor long did her life for this sphere seem intended, For pale was her cheek, with that spirit-like hue. Which comes when the day of this world is nigh ended, .\.nd light from another already shines through. 'riicn her eves, when she sung — oh, but once to have seen them — • lioft thoughts in the soul that can never depart ; ^^'hile her looks and her voice made a language between them. That sjiuke mure than holiest words to the heart. 127 But she passM like a ilay-dioam, no skill cduUI restore hcr- AVhate'er was her sorrow, its ruin came fast ; She died with the same spell of mystery o'er her, That song of past days on her lips to the last. Nor ev"n in the grave is her sad heart reposing — Still hovers the spirit of grief round her tomb ; For oft, when the shadows of midnight arc closing, The same strain of music is heard through the gloom. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. IIUN'TER once in that grove reclined, *■ To shun the noon's bright eye. And oft he woo'd the wandering wind, To cool his blow with its sigh. While mute lay ev'n the wild bee's hum, Nor breath could stir the aspen's hair, His song was still " Sweet Air, oh come ! " While Echo answer'd, " Come, sweet Air ! " But, hark, what sounds from the thicket rise ! What meaneth that rustling spray ? " 'Tis the white-horird doe," the Hunter cries, '' I have sought since break of dav." 128 Quick o'er tlie .suimy ghule lie pprings, ""JMie arrow flics fi-oin liis pounding bow, " Ilillilio — liilliho ! " he gaily sings, While Echo sighs forth " liilliho ! " Alas, 'twas not the whitc-liorned doe lie saw in the rustling grove, But the bridal veil, as pure as snow, Of his own young wedded love. And, ah ! too siu'e that arrOAV sped. For jjale at his feet he sees her lie ; — " I die, I die," was all she said, AMiile Echo nnumur'd, " I die, I die !' SONG OF THE BATTLE EVE. TIME — THE NINTH CENTUUY. .f 0-MORROAV, comrade, we ^ On the battle-plain must be, :f^[H There to conquer, or both lie low I The morning star is u]). — But there's wine still in the cup, 1 21> And we'll take another qwatf', ere we go. Ikiv, go; AVe'll take another quaff, ere we go. " Ti.s true, in mai\liest eye.s A passing tear will rise, When we think of the friends we leavi' Nuk- ; liut what can wailing do ? See, our gohlet's weeping too I ^^ ith its tears we'll chase away our own, Ikiv. oui' own ; \\ ith its tears we'll chase awav our own. J3ut daylight's stealing on ; — The last that o'er us shone Saw our children around us ])lay ; The next — ah ! where shall we And those rosy urchins be ? But — no matter — grasp thy sword and away, hoy, awav ; Xo matter — grasp thy sword and away ! Let those who brook the chain Of Saxon or of Dane, Ignobly by their firesides stay ; One sigh to home be given, One heartfelt prayer to heaven. Then, for Erin and her cause, boy, huira I huna I hnira I Then, fur Erin and her cause, hurra ! 17 130 THE riU:TTY RoyE TKEE. ETTs'G weary of love, 1 flew to the grove, { And chose me a tree of the fairest ; Saving, " Pretty Eose-tree, Thou my mistress shalt be, Anil I '11 worship each butl thou hearest. For the hearts of tliis M'orld are holldw. And tickle the smiles we follow ; And 'tis sweet, when all Their witch'ries pall, To have a pure love to fly to : So, my pretty Rose-tree, Thou my mistress shalt be, And the only one now I shall sii>h to." "When the beautiful hue Of thy cheek through the dcAv Of minning is l)ashfully peeping, " Sweet tears," I shall say (As 1 brush them away), '• At least there's no art in this wecpiiu Although thou shouldst die to-morrow, "T will not be from pain or sorrow ; And the thorns of thy stem Are not like them ^\ ilh which men wound each other : So my pretty Rose-tree, Thou my mistress shalt be. And I'll ne'er again sigh to another. 131 irrsu, Hi^sii rSII, luisli !"-li,.w wrll That sweet woid sounds, \Mion Lovo, the little ^^elltinol, Walks his nii^ht-rotinds ; Then, it' a toot hut dare One tosc-leaf ciiish, Myriads of voices in the nil' Wliisper, '-Hush, hush !" " Hark, hark, *tis he!" The night-elves cry, And husli their fairy harmony, While lie steals hy ; l!ut if his silv'ry feet One dew-drop hiiish. ^'oices are heard in chorus sweet, Whisp'ring, '• Hush, hush ! " i^^- LUYE AND TDIK. IS said — liut whether true or not Let hards declare who've seen 'em That Tiove and Time have only got One pair of wings between 'em. 1:52 In couitship's first dclicinus lioiir. The bo}' full oft can spaie "cm ; So loit'ring in liis la(l>-'s Ijower, lie lets the grey-beard woar Viu. Then is Time's hour of play ; Oh, how he flies, flies away I But short the moments, short as briglit. A\ ben he tlie wings can l)orrow ; If Time to-day lias liad Ids fliglit. Love takes his turn to-morrow. Ah ! Time and Love, your change is then The saddest and most trying, \\ lien one begins to limp again. And t' other takes to flying. Then is Love's hour to stray ; Oh. bow be flies, flies away! l>ut there's a iiynipb, whose chains 1 feel, And bless the silken fetter, A\'bo knows, the dear one, how to deal ^\'itb Love and Time much better. So well she checks their wanderings. So peacefully she pairs 'em, That Love with her ne'er thinks of wings. And Time for ever wears "em. This is Time's holiday ; Ob. bow be flies, flies nwav ! WHILE GAZING OX THE MOON'S LIGHT. IIILE gazinof on the morni's light, A moment from her smile I tiirnM, To look at orlxs, that, more hright. In lone and distant glory biiru'd. 134 Hut too far Each proud atar, For mc to feel its warming flame ; Much more dear That mihl sphere, ^\ liirh near our planet smihni;' caiiie ; — Thus, Mary, Ik- hut tluiu my own ; While hrigliter eyes unheeded play, I '11 love those moonlij^ht looks alone. That hless my home and niiide my way. The day had sunk in dim showers, ]?ut midnight now, witli lustre meet, Ilhnnined all the pale flowers, Like hope upon a mourner's checd^. I said (Avlule The moon's smile J'lay'd o'er a stream, in dimpling hliss.) " The moon looks ( )n many brooks : The brook can see no moon but this ; " And thus, T thought, our fortunes run, For many a lover looks to thee. While oh I 1 feel tlu're is l)ut one. One .Marv in the world for me. i;v OUR FIRST YOUNG LOVE. K<0 Ull first yininij;' love I'csi'inbles ^^ Tliat slidit lint hrilliant ray, if Which yniilos, and weeps, and trembles Througli April's eai'Hest day. And nut all lite before us, llowe'er its lights may play, Can shed a lustre o'er us Like that first April ray. Our summer sun may squander \ blaze serener, grander ; Our autumn beam May, like a dream Of lieav'n, die calm away ; But. no — let life before us Bring all the light it may, 'T will ne'er shed lustre o'er us Like that first youthful ray. NIGHTS OF MUSIC. IGIITS of nuisie, nights of loving. Lost too soon, remember'd long, When wc went by moonlight roving. Hearts all love and lips all song. 180 ^\'ll(•Il tliis faithful Into leeonU'd All iny spirit felt to thee ; And that smile the soiicf rewarded — AV(jrth whole years of fame to me ! Nights of song, and nights of splendour. Fill'd with joys too sweet to last — Joys that, like the star-light, tender, A\liile they shone, no shadow cast. Though all other happy hours From my fading mcm'ry fly. Of that star-light, of those howers, Not a ])Pam, a leaf, shall die I ■^^ r^ i;37 1 LOVE BUT THEE. f"^ F, after all, you still will doubt aud tear nio, «t.SLSJ Aud tliiidi this heart to other loves will stray. If I must swear, then, lovely doubter, hear nie ; By ev'ry dream I have when thou'rt away, By ev'ry throb I feel when thou art near me, 1 love but thee — T love but thee ! By those dark eyes, where light is ever jilayiug-. Where Love, in depth of shadow, holds his throne. And by those lips, which give whate'er thou'rt saying, Or grave or gay, a music of its own, A music far beyond all minstrel's playing, I love but thee — I love but thee ! By that fair brow^, where Innocence reposes. As pure as moonlight sleeping upon snow. And by that cheek, whose fleeting blush discloses A hue too bright to hless this woild below, And only fit to dwell on Eden's roses, I love but thee — I love hut thee ! "^'(^^/^ 18 138 SOUND THE LOUD TLUVAIKL. Miriam's song. "And Miriam the Prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her liand: and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances." — Exml. xv. 20. OUNI) tlie loud Timbrel o'er %.yi>t'ti dark .sea 1 Jehovah has triumpli'd — his people are free. Siiio' — foi' the ]>iide of the Tyrant is broken, His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid am brave — How vain was their boast, for the Lokd hath but sjiokeii. And ohariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave. Sound the loud Timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea ; Jehovah has triumph'd — his peojtle are free. I'raise to the Conqueror, praise to the Loiin ! J I is word was our arrow, his breath was our sword. — Who shall return to tell Egypt the story Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride ? For the Lord liath look'd out from his i)illar of glory, And all her biave th(nisands are dash'd in the tide. Sound the loud Timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea; .Ikhovah has triumph'd — his people arc free! THE MEETING OF THE SHIPS. x.e HEX o'er the .--ilent seas alone, For days and nights we've cheerless gone, Oil, they who've felt it know how sweet, j^"^ Some sunny nioin a sail to meet ! 140 S|iiirkliii_i;- at oiiir is v\'vy eye. " Sliip alloy I ship almy ! "" our jdyfiil cry ; ■ While aiiswciiiig hack the sounds we hear " Ship ahoy! ship ahoy I vvliat cheer? what clieer? Then sails are back'd, we nearer come, Kind words are said of friends and home ; And soon, too soon, we part with pain, I'o sail o\'r silent seas aa'ain. 141 BLACK AND BLUE EYES. TIE brilliant black eye May in trium])b let fly ^'""AH its darts witbout oarino' wbo feels 'em But the soft eye of bhie, Though it scatter wounds too. Is much l)etter pleased when it heals "cm Tlie bhick eye may say, " Come and worship my ray — liv adiirinii-, j)erliaps. you may move me!" But the bhie eye, half hid, Says from under its lid, " 1 love, and am yours, if you love me !" Yes, Fanny ! The blue eye, half hid, Says, from under its lid, '' T love, and am vours, if vou love me I" Come tell me, then, why, Tn that lovely blue eye. Not a charm of its tint I discover ; Oh, why should you wear The only blue pair That ever said "No" to a lover? Dear Fanny I Oh, why should you wear The only blue pair That ever said " Ko " to a lover ? 142 THE DYING WARRIOR. WOUNDED Chieftain, lying By the Danube's leafy side, Thus faintly said, in dying, " Oh ! hear, thou foanung tide, Tliis gift to my lady-bride." 'T was then, in life's last quiver. He flung the scarf he wore Into the foaming river, ^Miich, ah too quickly, bore That pledge of one no more ! With fond impatience burning. The Chieftain's lady stood, To watch her love returning In triumph down the flood. From that day's field of blood. 3iut, field, alas, ill-fated I The lady saw, instead Of the bark whose speed she waited, Her hero's scarf, all red With the drops his heart had shed. One shriek — and all was over — Her life-pulse ceased to beat ; The gloomy waves now cover That bridal-flower so sweet. And the scarf is bor windine: shoot ! WHEN THROUGH THE IMAZZETTA. IIEN througli the Piazzetta Isight breathes her cool air, Then, dearest Ninctta, I'll oonu' to thee there. 144 Boneath tliy mask slududcd, 1 '11 know tlice afar. As Love knows, thouoh cldudiMl. His own Evcniiii;' Star. Tn garb, then, rcscmblino- Some gay gondolier, I'll whisper tliee, trembling, " Our bark, love, is near: Now, now, while there hovci' Those clouds o'er the moon, 'Twill waft thee safe over Yon silent Lagoon.'' ROSE OF THE DESERT. OSE of the Desert ! thou, whose blushing ray, Lonely and lovely, fleets unseen away ; No hand to cull thee, none to woo thy sigh, — In vestal silence left to live and die, — Kose of the Desert ! thus should woman be, Sbininii' uneourted, lone and safe, like thee. Ivose of the Cjlarden, how unlike tiiy doom I Destined for others, not thyself, to bloom ; Cull'd ere thy beauty lives through half its day ; A moment cheiish'd, and then cast away ; Ivose of the Garden I such is woman's lot, — ^\'(H■sbi|•|^M, while blooming — wben she fades, forgot. 145 DO NOT SAY THAT LIFE IS WANING. not say tliat life is waning, Or tliat Hope's sweet day is set ; While I 'vc tliee anil love remaining, Life is in th' horizon yet. Do not think those charms are flying, Though thy roses fade and fall ; Beauty hath a grace undying. Which in thee survives them all. Not for charms, the newest, brightest. That on other cheeks may shine, ^Yould I change the least, the slightest, That is lino-'ring now o'er thine. MY HEART AND LUTE. GIVE thee all — I can no more — Though poor the off'ring he ; My heart and lute arc all the store That I can bring to thee — A lute whose gentle song reveals The soul of love full well ; And, better far, a heart that feels INIucli more than lute could tell, 10 140 'l"li(tiii;li love ami song may tail, alu^i I Tu keep life's clouds away, At least 't will make them lighter pass, Or gikl them if" they stay. And ev'n if Care, at UKtiiieiits, flings A discord o'er life's happy strain. Let Love hut gently touch the sti-ings, 'T will all he sweet aoain ! .^'[ ECHO. OAV sweet ilie answer Echo makes To nuisic at night, \\'hen, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, And far away, o'er lawns and lakes, Goes answering lioht. ^'et Love hath echoes truer far. And far more sweet. Than e'er beneath the moonlight's star. Of horn, or lute, or soft guitar, The songs repeat. 'Tis when the sigh in youth sincere, And only then, — The sigh that's breathed for one to hear. Is by that one, that only dear. Breathed back a^ain ! HARK! THT: VESPEll HYMN IS STEALING. ri \i!K 1 tlie vcsjtcr hymn i^^ stealing O'er llie wators soft and dear ; 148 Nearer yet and nearer jtealiiiii-, And now bursts u]ton the ear : Jubilate, Amen. Farther now, now farther steaHng, Soft it fades upon the ear: Jubilate, Amen. Now, like moonlit waves i-etreating To the shore, it dies along ; Now, like angry surges meeting, Breaks the minirled tide of sonf>; Jul>ilato, Amen. I lush I again, like Avaves, rctreatin To the shore, it dies along : Jubilate, Amen. LOVE AND THE SUN-DIAL. 'OUNG Love found a Dial once, in a daik shade. Where man ne'er had wander'd nor sunbeam play'd ; '• AMiy thus in darkiK'ss lie,"" wIusjutM y(.)ung Love ; " Thou, whose gay hours in sunshine shciuld move?'' " 1 ne'er," said the Dial, " have seen the warm sun, So noonday and midnight to me. Love, are one." 149 Then Love took the Dial jXAvay fi'om the shade. And placed hei- where Heaven's heani warmly play'd. There she reeliiied. heneath Love's gazing eye, While, mark'd all with snnshine, her hours Mew hy. " Oh, how," said the Dial, " can any fair maid, " That's horn to he shone upon, rest in the shade?" But night now comes on, and the sunheam's o'er. And Love sto]is to gaze on the Dial no more. Alone and neglected, whiU' lilcak rain and winds Are storming around her, with soitow she finds That Love had luit numlier'd a few sunny hours, — Then left the remainder to darkness and showers ! :r> O^k- OH, SOON RETUllN. UR white sail caught the ev'ning ray, The wave beneath us seem'd to burn, ^^Hien all the weeping maid could say Was, '• Oh, soon return !" Tlnough many a clime our ship was driven. O'er many a billow rudely thrown ; Now chill'd beneath a northern heaven, Kow snnn'd in summer's zone : And still, where'er wo bent our way, When eveniu"- tiid the west wave buiMi, I fancii'd still I licanl luT sav. " Oh, soon rc'turii I" If ever 3"et my bosom f'uuiul Its tlioughts one moment turn'd from tliee, 'Twas when the combat raged around, And brave men look'd to mc But though the war-field's wild alarm For gentle Love was all unmeet, Tie lent to Glory's ])i'ow the charm, A\'hicli made even danger sweet. And still, when vict'ry's calm came o'er The hearts where rage had ceased to burn, Those parting words I heard once more, '•' Oh, soon return ! — Oh, soon return I" ^tix'. HOW DEAR TO ME THE HOUR. "''OW dear to me tlic hoiu" when daylight dies, And sunbeams meU along the silent sea ; For then sweet dreams of other days arise, T'^jf And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee. 152 And, as T watch the line of light that plays Along the smooth wave tow'rd the l)urniug west, I long to tread that golden path of rays, And thiidi "tw(»uld lead to some bright isle of rest. -'^: A TEMPLE TO FRIENDSHIP. (SPANISH ATR.) TEMPLE to Friendship," said Lama, enehantrd. " I'll build in this garden, — the thought is divint' I '' Her temple was built, and she now only wanted An image of Friendship to place on the shrine. She flew to a sculptor, who set down befoi-e hei' A Friendship, the fairest his heart could invent ; l?ut so cold and so dull, that the youthful adorer Saw plainly this was not the idol she meant. "' Oh ! never," she cried, '* could I think of enshrining An image whose looks are so joyless and dim ; — But yon little god, upon roses reclining, We'll make, if you please, Sir, a Friendship of him.'' So the bargain Avas struck ; with the little god laden She joyfully flew to her shrine in the grove : " Farewell," said the sculptor, " you're not the first maitlen ^Mio came but for Friendship and took away Love.'' 153 YES, YES, WHEN THE BLOOM. ES, yes, >vhen the blooui of Love's boyhood is o'er, He'll turn into friendship that feels no decay ; And though Time may take from liiin tlie wings he oucc wore, The charms that remain will be bright as before, And he'll lose but his young trick of flying away. Then let it console thee, if Love should not stay, That Friendship our last happy moments will crown : Like the shadows of morning, Love lessens away, A\'hile Friendship, like those at the closing of day, Will linger and leno-then as life's sun i-oes down. "'^i^ii WHEX MIDST THE GAY I MEET. HEN midst the gay I meet That gentle smile of thine, Though still on me it turns most sweet, I scarce can call it mine : But when to me alone Your secret tears yon show, Oh, then I feel those tears my own, And claim them while they flow. Then still with bright looks bless The gay, the cold, the free ; Give smiles to those who love you less. But keep your tears for me. 20 154 The snow on Jura's Btecp Can smile in many a beam. Yet still in chains of coldness sleep, How bright soe'cr it seem. Eut, when some deep-felt ray, Whose touch is fire, appears, Oh, then the smile is warm'd away, And, melting, turns to tears. Then still with bright looks bless The gay, the cold, the free ; Give smiles to those who love you less, But keep your tears for me. 'TIS ALL FOR THEE. F life for me hath joy or light, 'Tis all from thee ; My thoughts by day, my dreams by night, Are but of thee, of only thee. WTiate'er of hope or peace I know, My zest in joy, my balm in woe. To those dear eyes of thine I owe, 'Tis all from thee. My heart, ev'n ere I saw those eyes, Seem'd doom'd to thee ; Kept pure till then from other ties, 'Twas all for thee, for onlv thee. 155 Like plants tliat .sleep till sunny May Calls forth their life, my spirit lay, Till, toucliM l)y Love's awak'ning ray, It lived for thee, it lived for thee. "When Fame would eall me to her heights. She speaks hy thee ; And dim would shine her proudest lights. Unshared hy thee, unshared by thee. A\'hene'er I seek the IMuse's shrine, AVliere Bards have hung their wreaths divine. And wish those wreaths (»f glory mine, 'Tis all for thee, forpnlv thee. SONG OF HERCULES TO HIS DAUGHTER. 'VE been, oh, sweet daughter. To fountain and sea. To seek m their water Some bright gem for thee. \Mierc diamonds were sleeping. Their sparkle I sought : "Wlierc crystal was weeping. Its tears T have caught. 156 '* The sca-nyniph l"vc eouitod In rich coral halls ; With Naiads have sported By bright waterfalls. But sportive or tender, Still sought I, around, That gem, with whose splendour Thou yet shalt be crown'd. " And see, while I'm speaking, Yon i^uft light afar ; — The pearl I've been seeking There floats like a star ! In the deep Indian Ocean I see the gem shine, And quick as light's motion Its wealth shall be thine." Tlien eastward, like lightning, Tlie hero-god flew. His sunny looks bright'ning The air he went through. And sweet was the duty, And hallow'd the hour, Which saw thus young Beauty Embollish'd bv Power. S().\(;. VRCIl ! nor heed tliusc aiin.s that hold thco, Thotio-h so fondly close they conic : Closer still will they enfold thee, AVhcn thnu hrino;'.^t fresh laurels home. 158 f)()Sl, tlinn -, each himost iechiio; Of all my soiil ccho'd to its spell. 'Twas whisper'd balm — 'twas sunshine spoken I- IM live years of grief ;iiul pain To have my long sleep of sorrow broken IJy such benign, blessed sounds again. LOVE THEE, DEAREST] LOVE THEE? OVE thee, dearest ? love thee ? Yes, by yonder star I sweai, Wliich through tears above thee .Shines so sadly foir ; 'riidugh often dim, With tears, like him, liike him my truth will shine. And — love thee, dearest? love I bee ? Yes, till death I'm thine. Leave thee, dearest ? leave thee ? Xo, that star is not more true ; \Mien my vows deceive thee, Jle will wander too. A cloud of night May veil his light. And death shall darken mine — But — leave thee, dearest? leave thee ? No, till death I'm thine. 21 1()2 THE BUY OF THE ALPS. IGHTLY, Alpine rover, Tread the iiioiintaiiis over ; Iiiide is the path tliou'st yet to go ; 8110W clitis hanging o'er fliee, Fiehls of iee hef'oro thee, W liile tlie liitl torrent moans hehjw. llark. the (h'cp thunder. 'I'hroiigh the vales yonder I 'Tis the huge av'Ianche downwanl cast From rock to rock Rebounds the shoek. Hut courage, hoy ! the danger's ]>ast. Onward, youthful rover, Ti'oad the glacier over. Safe shalt thou reach thy home at last. (Jii, ere light forsake thee. Soon will dusk o'ertake thee : O'er you ice-bridge lies thy way I Now, for the risk prepare thee ; Safe it yet may hear thee, Though 'twill melt in morning's ray. llaik, that dread howling ! 'Tis the wolf jn-owling, — Scent of thy track the foe hath got; And clitf and shore Eesound his roar. But courage, boy, — the danger's past ! Watching eyes have found thee. Loving arms are round thee, Safe hast tliou reacli'd thy father's cot. I SAW THE MOON RISE CLEAR. A FINLAND LOVK SONG. SAW the moon rise clear O'er hills and vales of snow. Nor told my fleet rein- deer The trofk T wishVl to o-o. 1()4 Yi.'[ quick lie lioiiiKk-d forth ; For well my rcin-decr knew I 'vc but one path on earth — The path which leads to you. The gloom that Winter cast How soon the hoait forgets, AVIien Summer brings, at last, ITer sun that never sets ! So dawivd my love for you ; So, fixM through joy and pain Than summer sun more true, 'Twill never set ao-ain. WHEN TO SAD MUSIC SILENT YOU LISTEN. HEN to sad Music silent you listen, And tears on those eyelids tremble like dew, Oh, then there dwells in those eyes as they glisten, A sweet holy charm that mirth never knew. But when some lively strain resounding Lights up tlie sunshine of joy on that brow, Then the young vein-deer o'er the hills bounding Was ne'er in its mirth so graceful as thou. When on the skies at midnight thou gazest, A lustre so pure thy features then wear, u; 'Flint, when to soim- star that lirij^lit eve thou raisost, Wo feel 'tis thy home thou 'it looking for there. But when the woril for the gay dance is i;iveii, So buoyant tliy spirit, so heartfelt thy mirth. Oh, then we exclaim, *' Ne'er leave earth for heaven. But lin<>-er still here, to make heaven of eartli." /^^ HER LAST WORDS AT PARTING. Ell last words at parting, how can I forget ? Deep treasured through life, in my heart they shall stay : Like music, whose charm in the soul lingers yet, Wiien its sounds from tlie ear have long melted away. Let Fortune assail me, her threat'nings arc vain ; Those still-breathing words shall my talisman Ijc, — '• Eemember, in absence, in sorrow, and pain. There's one heart, imchanging, that beats but for thee." From the desert's sweet well tho' the pilgrim must hie. Never more of that fresh-springing fountain to taste. He bath still of its bright drops a treasured sujjply, AMiose sweetness lemls life to his lips through the waste. So, dark as my fate is still doom'd to remain, These words shall my well in the wilderness be, — "■ Remember, in absence, in sorrow, and pain. There's one heart, unchanging, that beats but for thee."' UM) LET'S TAKE THIS WORLD AS SOME WIDE SCENE. \ l"r"S take tliis world as some wide scoiic, Througli wlileli, in frail Imt Itiun-ant hoaf. ^^'ith skies now dark and now serene, Together (liou and 1 must float ; Beholding oft, on either shore, Bright spots where we should love to stay But Time plies swift his flying oar, Ajid away we speed, away, away. Should chilling winds and rains come on, We'll raise our awning 'gainst the showei- ; Sit closer till the storm is gone, And, smiling, wait a sunnier hour. And if that sunnier hour should shine. We'll know its hrightness cannot stay, But happy, while 'tis thine and mine. Complain not when it fades away. So shall we reach at last that Fall Down which life's currents all must go, — The dark, the hrilliant, destined all To sink into the void helow. Nor ev'n that hour shall want its charms. If, side by side, still fond we keep. And calmly, in each other's arms Together link'd, go down the steep. 1(57 OH. no NOT LOOK SO IMIIGHT AND lilJ'.SI II. do not look so Ijiiglit tiiul blost, ^^^\ For still there comes a fear, ij^W hen Iiinw likr tllilic looks ll;l|i]M('st, That gi-ief is then most near, 'riicre lurks a dread in all delitiht. A shadow near eaeh rav. That warns us then to fear their liii;hi. When most we wish their stay. Then look not thou so hriiiht and hlest, For ah I theie comes a fear. When brow like thine looks ha]ii)iest, That grief is then most near. Why is it thus that fairest things 'l"he soonest fleet and die ? — That when most light is on their wings They 're then but spread to i\\ I And, sadder still, the pain will stay — Tlie bliss no more appears ; As rainbows take their light away, And leave us but the tears ! Then look not thou so blight and blest. For ah I there comes a fear, When brow like thine looks happiest, That grief is then most near. THOSE EVENING BELLS. HOSE evening bells ! those evening bells ! How many a tale their music tells, Of youth, and home, and that sweet time. M'hen last I heard their sootliing chime. Tlidse joyous hours arc pas.s'il away ; And many a lioait, that then was gay, \\'itirni the toinli now daikly tlwi-lls, And liears nn inoic those cvonini:,- Ix-lls. And so 'twill !»■ wIk'ii I am gone; That tuneful peal will still rini;- oiy, While other hards sliall walk these dells. And sing your jiraise. sweet eveniiig hells! THK DREAM OF HOME. no has not felt how sadly sweet The dream of home, the dream of home, Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, When fai' o'er sea or land we i-oam ? Sunlight more soft may o'er us fall, To greener shores our hai'k may come ; But far more hright, more dear than all, That dream of home, that dream of home. Ask of the sailor youth when far His light bark bounds o'er ocean's foam, What charms him most, when evening's star Smiles o'er the wave ? — to dream of home. Fond thoughts of absent fi'iends and loves At that sweet hour around him come ; His heart's best joy where'er he roves. That di'eani of home, that dream of home. 170 THEY TELL ME THOU'RT THE FAVOUR'D GUEST. IIEY tell me tlioii'it tlie fuvour'tl guest Of ev'ry fair and brilliant throng ; Xo wit like thine to wake the jest, No voice like thine to l)rcathe the song And none could guess, so gay thou art. That thou and I are far apart. Alas ! alas ! how diif 'rent Hows With thee and me the time awav ! Not that I wish thee sad — heav'n knows ; Still if thou canst, be light and gay : I only know, that without thee The sun himself is dark to me. Do I thus haste to hall and bower, Among the proud and gay to shine ? Or deck my hair with gem and flower. To flatter other eyes than thine ? Ah, no I with me love's smiles are past ; Thou hadst the first, thou hadst the last. STILL WHEN DAYLIGHT. ^TTLL when daylight o'er the wave Bright and soft its farewell gave, 1 used to hear, while light was falling, 171 < )"cr tin' wave a swoct vuioc falling, MdUiiit'ully at (listaiieo calling. All ! once how blest that inaiil would come, To meet her sca-bov hast'ning home ; And thioiigli the night those soinids ivpeatin; ll.iil his hark with joyous greeting, Joyously his light hark greeting. But, one sad night, when winds were high, Nor earth, nor heaven, could hear her cry, .She saw his boat come tossing over Midnight's wave, — hut not her lover ! Xo, never more hei' lover. And still that sad dream loth to leave, She comes with wand'ring mind at eve. Ami oft we hear, when night is falling. Faint hei' voice through twilii^lit calling, ^[ournfiillv at twili^bt callino-. 172 TllK FANCY FAIi;. '''"7^%S *^*^'^^"' "lii'''-^ <'iii'l vdiitlis, i'ur Iiciv we sell 7^/c^ All wuiidroiis tliiiiiis ol' I'lirtli ami air ; -^ W lialL'VtT wild loiiiaiicoi-.s tell, < 'r poets siii<^-, or lovers sweai'. You'll Hud at (his our Fauey Fair. Here eves are made like stars to sliiue, Aud kept, for yeais, iu such repair, 'I'liat (v'u whcu turu'd of thirty-uiue, They'll hardly look the worse for wrar. If bought at this our Fauey Fair. We've lots of tears for hards to shower. .\ud hearts that such ill usage bear. That, though they're hrokeu ev'ry hoiu . 'They "11 still in rhyme fresh bi'eakiiig iicat , If purrhast'd at oiu' Fauev Fair. As fashions change in ev'ry thing. We've goods to suit each season's air lllcrnal friendships for the spring. And endless loves for summer weai . — All sold at this our Fancy Fair. '^f?^,-*.- '^r^'^r: THEY MAY RAIL AT THIS LIFE. HEY may rail at tliis life — Irum the hour I hcgau il I found it a life full of kiiulne.ss ami bliss ; AikI, until they can show ine sonic happier planet, More soeial and hriiiht. I'll eoutent nie with this V> limii as the woild ha.^ sueli lip,- and sueh eyes. ,V> heliire nie lhi> UKiiiii'iil eiuapturetl 1 see, 174 Tlicy may say what they will of tlu'ir uibs in the (skies, Jiut this earth is tlie planet for you, love, and me. In Mercury's star, where each moment can hrini;- tlit-ni New sunshine and wit from the fountain on high, Though the nymjihs may have livelier poets to sing them. They've none, even there, more enamour'd than I : And, as long as this harp can he waken'd to love, And that eye its divine inspiration shall be, Tlicy may talk as they will of their Edens above, liut this earth is the ])lam't tor you, love, and me. In that star of the west, by whose shadowy splendour At twilight so often we've roam'd tln-ongh the dew, There are maidens, perhaps, wlio have bosoms as tender, And look, in their twilights, as lovely as you. But tho' they were even more bright than the queen Of that isle they inhabit in heaven's blue sea. As I never those fair young celestials have seen, AVhy — this earth is the j)lanet for you, love, and mc As for those chilly orbs on the verge of creation, Wliere sunshine and smiles must be equally rare, Did they want a supply of cold hearts for that station, Hoav'n knows we have plenty on earth we could spai'c. (Jli I think what a world M'e should have of it here, ir tho haters of peace, of affection, and glee, W eie to fly up to Saturn's comfortless sphere, And leave earth to such spirits as you, love, and me. ITA THE DAY-DllEAM. TTF.Y both were liiishM, the voice, the diord? ^■^ I Iieanl but once that witching biy ; And few the notes, and few the words, My spell-bound memory brought away ; Traces remember'd here and there, Like echoes of some broken strain ; — Links of a sweetness lost in air. That nothing now could join again. Ev'n these, too, ere the morning, fled ; And though the charm still linger'd on, That o'er each sense her song had shed, The song itself was faded, gone ; — Gone, like the thoughts that once were ours, On summer days, ere youth had set ; Thoughts bright, we know, as sunmicr flowers. Though %i}hat they were, wo now forgot. In vain, with hints from other strains, I woo'd this truant air to come — As birds are taught, on Eastern plains, To lure their wilder kindred home. In vain : — the song that Sappho gave, In dying, to the mournful sea. Not muter slept beneath the wave. Than this within my moninry. 176 At Icngtli, one inoriiinf"-, as 1 lay In that lialf-waking mood, wlioii dicams Unwillingly at last give way To the full truth of daylight's heams, A face — the very face, niethought. From which had hrcath'd, as fiom a shi-im- Of song and sonl, the notes I sought — ■ (^anio with its nuisic close to mine ; And sung the long-lost measure o'er, — Each note and word, with every tone And look, that lent it life before, — All perfect, all again niv own ! Like parted souls, when, mid the Blest They meet again, each widow'd sound Through memory's realm had wing'd in quest Of its sweet mate, till all were found. Nor even in waking did the clue. Thus strangely caught, escape again ; For never lark its matins knew So well as now T knew this strain. And oft, when memory's wondrous spell Is talk'd of in our tianquil l)ower, I sing this lady's song, and tell The vision of that mornino- hour. THE YOUNG MAY MOON. VWp-^ HE youna,- Mav moon is lii'aiuing, lov(\ ^^'^ 'V^'riie glow-worm's lamp is gleam in u'. lovo, How sweet to rove Tlirovigh Morna's grove, 178 W'licii tile drowsy world is dreaming, love ! Tlicn awake !— the heavens look briglit, my dear, '1'is never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days, Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear ! Now all the world is sleei)ing, love. Hut the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love. And ], whose star, More glorious far, ]s tlie eye from that casement peeping, love, 'riicn awake ! — till rise of sun, my dear, The Sage's glass we'll shun, my dear. Or. in watching the flight Of Iwdiesof light, lie might happen to take thee for one, my dear. SOVEREIGN WOMAN. A BALLAD. UE dance was o'er, yet still in dreams That fairy scene went on ; Like clouds still flush'd with daylight gleams, Though day itself is gone. And gracefully, to music's sound. The same bright nymphs went gliding round ; 17i) AVliile thou, the Queen of all, wort there — Tlu' Fairest still, where all were fair. The dream then changed — in halls of state, T saw thee hii;h enthroned ; ^\ liile. langod around, the wise, the great In thee their mistress own'd : And still the same, thy gentle sway O'er willing subjects won its way — Till all confess'd the Eight Divine To rule o'er man was only thine. liut. lo ! the scene now changed again — And borne on plumed steed, 1 saw thee o'er the battle-jdain Our land's defenders lead ; And stronger in thy beauty 's charms, Than man, with countless hosts in arms, Thy voice, like music, cheer'd the Free, Thy very smile was victoiy ! Xor reign such queens on thrones alone — In cot and court the same, AYherever woman's smile is known, Victoria's still her name. For though she almost blush to reign. Though Love's own flow'rets wreath the cluiin, Disguise our bondage as we will, 'Tis woman, woman, rules us still. J 80 SONG OF THE POCOCURANTE SOCIETY, Hand curat Hippoclidcs. — Erasm. .hlay. () tliosc we love we've dnink to-night : But now attend, and t^tare not. While I the ampler list recite Of those for whom We cake not. For royal men, hovve'cr they frown, If on their fronts they bear not That noblest gem that decks a crown, The People's love — We cake not. For slavish men, who bend beneath A despot yoke, yet dare not Pronounce the will, whoso very breath Would rend its links — We cake not. For priestly men, who covet sway And wealth, though they declare not ; A\'ho point, like tinger-posts, the way They never go — "NVe cake not. For martial men, who on their sword, Ilowe'er it conquers, wear not The pledges of a soldier's word, lledeem'd and pure — We care not. For legal men, who plead for wrong, And, though to lies they swear not, Are hardly better than the throng of those who ilo — W'e CARE not. 181 For courtly Jiieii, who feed ujiou The laiul, like grubs, aiul sj)are not Tlie suialk'st leaf, whcro they can sun Tlieir crawHng linihs — We care nut, For wealthy men, who kei'p their mines In darkness hid, and share not The paltry ore with him who pines In honest want — We cabe not. For prudent men, who hold the power Of Love aloof, and hare not Their hearts in any guardless hour To Beauty's shaft — We care not. For all. in short, on land or sea, In camp or court, who are not. Who never were, or e'er will be Good men and true — We cabe not. ' "l^^^'vC^lf ^> REASON, FOLLY, AND BEAUTY. EASON. and Folly, and Beauty, thoy say, ^\\•Ilt oil a party of pleasure one day ; Folly play'd Around the maid. r\\v liclls (if liis cap riiiio' merrily out : 183 "While Eeason took To his sermon-book — Oil ! which was the pleasanter no one need doiiht, AViiioh was the pk'asanter no one need doul)t. Beauty, who hkes to he thought very sage, Turn'd for a moment to Eeason's dull page, Till Folly said, " Look here, sweet maid I" — The sight of his cap brought her back to herself; "SMiile Reason read His leaves of lead, With no one to mind him, poor sensible elf 1 Xo, — no one to mind him, poor sensible elf! Then Eeason grew jealous of Folly's gay ea]i ; Had he that on, he her heart might entrap — " There it is," Quoth Folly, "old quiz!" (Folly was always good-natured, 'tis said.) " Under the sun There's no such fun. As Eeason with my cap and bells on his head, Eeason with my cap and bells on his head ! " But Eeason the head-dress so awkwardly wore. That Beauty now liked him still less than before ; While Folly took Old Eeason's book, And twisted the leaves in a cap of such ton, That Beauty vow'd (Though not aloud). She liked him still better in that than his own. Yes.— liked him still better in that than his own. 184 ALONE IN CROWDS TO WANDER ON. LONE ill crowds to wander on, AihI fcv\ that all the charm is gone Which voices dear and eyes heloved Shed round us once, where'er we roved — This, this the doom must bo Of all who've loved, and lived to see Tlie few bright things they thought would stay For ever near them, die away. Tho' fairer forms around us throng, Their smiles to others all belong. And want that charm which dwells alone Jvound tliosc the fond heart calls its own. Where, where the sunny brow ? The long-known voice — where arc they no\v ? Thus ask I still, nor ask in vain, The silence answers all too plain. Oh, what is Fancy's magic worth. If all her art cannot call forth One bliss like those we felt of old From lips now mute, and eyes now cold ? No, no, — her spell is vain, — As soon could she bring back again Those eyes themselves from out the grave. As wake again one bliss they gave. 185 THE INDIAN BOAT. "WAS midnight dark ; .'he seaman's hark Swift o'er the waters horc liim, AMien, through the night, lie spied a light Shoot o'er the wave before him. " A sail ! a sail ! " he cries ; " She comes fi-om the Indian shore, And to-night shall be our prize, With her fi-eight of golden ore : Sail on ! sail on ! " AYlien morning shone, He saw the gold still clearer ; But, though so fast The waves he pass'd, That boat seem'd never the nearer. Bright daylight came. And still the same Eich bark before him floated ; "NMiile on the prize His wishful eyes Like any young lover's doated : " ]\Iore sail ! more sail ! " he cries. While the waves o'ertop the mast ; And his bounding galley flies, liikc an ari'ow before tlic blast. 24 i,s(; 'I'luis oil, uiul oil, 'J'ill iliij was gone, Ami the moon througli iK'avcn did I Jle swept the main, But all in A-ain, Tiiiit boat sconiM never tlic iiii;licr. And many a clay To night gave way, Antl many a morn succeeded : While still his flight, Through day and night. That restless mariner sjieeded. AN'ho knows — who knows Avhat seas lie is now careering o'er ? Jiehind, the eternal breeze, And that mocking bark, before I For, oh, till sky Aiid earth shall die. And their death leave none to rue it, That boat must flee O'er the boundless sea, And that ship in vain pursue it. A TWILTOHT. ^V^( )\V iiciiilv fled was .sunset'^ liiilit. Leaviiiii' liut so imicli (if its ln'iun ].s,s As o'avo to ohjects. late su lti'ii;lit. The colouring of ii shadowy tli'oaiii ; And there was still where Day had sot A flush that spoke him lulli to die — A last link of his glory yet, JJinding togothor earth and sky. Say, why is it that twilight host Becomes even hi'ows the loveliest? That dimness, with its soft'ning touch. Can bring out grace, iinfelt hefoi'O, And charms we ne'er can see t(jo much, When seen hut lialf enchant the more ? Alas ! it is that every joy In fulness finds its worst alloy, And half a bliss, but hoped or guess'd. Is sweeter than the whole possess'd ; — That Beauty, when least shone upon, A creature most ideal grows : And there's no light from moon or sun Like that Imagination throws ; — - It is, alas ! that Fancy shrinks Ev'n from a bright rcahty. And turning inly, feels and thinks Far Jicav'nlier thii)i;s than e'er will hp. 189 GAZEL. tVSTE, Maami, the sju'iiig is nigh ; Already, in the' imopeu'd flowers I'liat sleep around us, Fancy's eye Can see the hlush of future howers ; And joy it hrings to thee and nie. My own beloved Maami ! The streamlet frozen on its way. To feed the marble Founts of Kings, Now, loosen'd by the vernal ray, Upon its path exulting springs — As doth this bounding heart to thee. My ever blissful Maami ! Such bright hours were not made to stay ; Enough if they a while remain. Like Irem's bowers, that fade away, From time to time, and come again, And life shall all one Ircm be For us, my gentle ^Nlaami I O haste I for this impatient heart Is like the rose in Yemen's vale. That rLiids its inmost leaves apart With passion for tlie nightingale ; So languishes this soul for thee. My bright and blushing iMaami ! 190 CUrilTS LOTTHHY. T.OTTERY, a Lottery, Til Cupid's Court there used to be ; Two roguish eyes The highest prize In Cupid's scheming Lottery ; And kisses, too, As good as new, ^M^ich weren't veiy hard to win, For he who won The eyes of fun Was sure to have the kisses in. A Lottery, a TiOttery, *te. Tliis Lottery, this Lottery, Jn Cupid's Court went merrily. And Cu[iid phay'd A Jewish trade Ju this his scheming Lottery; For hearts, we 're told. In shares he sold To many a fond believing di'one, And cut the hearts So well in parts. That each believed the whole bis own. C/ior. — A Lottery, a Lottei'y, Jn Cupid's Court there used to be ; Two roguish eyes The highest prize Tu < 'u|)i(rs seJK'niing liOttoi'V. 191 SHOULD THOSE FOND HOPES. ^^IIOULD tliose fond hopes o'er forsake thee, ' " A\'hich now so sweetly tliy heart employ ; Slioukl the colli world come to wake thee From all thy visions of youth and joy ; Shoidd the gay friends, for whom thou wouldst hanish Him who once thought thy young heart his own, All, like spring birds, falsely vanish, And leave thy winter unheeded and lone ; — Oh I 'tis then that he thou hast slighted "Would come to cheer thee, when all seem'd o'er ; Then the truant, lost and blighted, Would to his bosom be taken once more. Like that dear bird we both can remember, 'Who left us while summer shone round. But, when chill'd by bleak December, On our threshold a welcome still found. 192 WHEN LOVH, WHO RULED. HEX Love, wlio niK'd as Adiiiinil o'er His rosy mother's isles of liglit, ' Was cruisina; oft" the Paphiaii sliore, A sail at sunset hove in sight, '• A chase, a chase ! my Cupids all," Said Love, the little Admiral. Aloft the winged sailors sprung, And, swarming up the mast like bees, The snow-Avhite sails expanding flung, Like broad magnolias to the breeze. " Yd ho ! JO ho ! my Cupids all I " Said Love, the little Admiral. The chase was o'er — the bark was caught, The winged crew her freight explored ; And found 'twas just as Love had thought, For all was contraband aboard. " A prize ! a prize I my Cupids all ! " Said Love, the little Admiral. Safe stow'd in many a package there. And labell'd slyly o'er, as " Glass," "Were lots of all th' illegal ware Love's Custom-House forbids to pass. " O'erhaul, o'erhaul ! my Cupids all I " Said Love, the little ^Vdniiral. False curls they found, of every hue, With rosy blushes ready made ; And teeth of ivor^-, good as new. For veterans in the sniilino- trade. " ITo ho I ho ho I my C'ii]>i(ls all I Said Love, tlic httle Admiral. 2r. U)4 Mock sio-lis, too, — kept in bati'is for use. Like lireozes Itouii'lit ot" Lapland sccrs,- l;:iv iraily here to lie let luost', When wanted, in yoniiu sjiinsters" ears. •• Ifa lia I ha lia I my Cnpids all I " S;iid Lovr, the little Admiral. b'alse papers next on buard were found, Sham invoices of flames and darts. Professedly for Paphos Iiound, But meant for Hymen's golden marts. '• For shame, for shame ! my Cii]iids all I " Said Love, the little Admiral. Nay, still to every fraud awake, Those pirates all Love's signals knew. And hoisted oft his flag, to make Ivieh wards and heiresses hring-lo. " A foe, a foe I my Cupids all I *" Said liove, the little Admiral. '• 'This must not he,'' the hoy exclaims : •' In vain 1 rule the Papliian seas. If Love and Jioauty's sovereign names Are lent to cover frauds like these. Prepare, ]irepare I my Cupids all !" Said Love, the little Admiral. Ivieh Cupid stood with lighted match — A hroadside struck the smuggling foe. And swept the whole unhallow'd hatch Of falsehood to the depths helow. " Huzza, huzza! Tuy (lipids all ! " Said Love, the little Admiral. •».") WHAT S11AI,L 1 .S1X(; TKKK li HAT .'-hall 1 .siiiu thfc? Shall I < >r that hright hour, roinonilK'iM As th(>u,i;h I( slioiK' hut vcsterdav When. Iditciini;- idly iu the ray ( )f a s[iriiiii' sun. 1 licard. (("crhcad. .Mv name as hy sonic spirit said, .Vnd, luokiny up. saw two hriglit eyes Ahuve nie from a easement shine, Da/./Jing my mind with sueh suiprise As they, who sail heyond tlie Line, Feel wlien new stars above them rise : .Vnd it was thine, the voice that spoke Like Ariel's, iu the mid-air then : And thine the eye, whose lustre broke Xever to be foro-ot ag-ain I tell well What shall I sing thee ? Shall I weave A song of that sweet summer eve. (Summer, of which the suimiest part Was that we, each, liad in the heart,) When thou and I, and one like thee, la life and beauty, to the sound Of our own breathless minstrelsy, Danced till the sunlight faded round. Ourselves the whole ideal Ball. Lights, music, company, and all ! Oh, 'tis not in the languid strain Of lute like mine, whose day is past, To call up even a dream again Of the fresh liiiht those mdineuts cast ! 196 SPIRIT (IF JOY. I'lRlT of Joy, thy altar lies In youthful hearts that hope like mine ; And 'tis the light of laughing eyes '["hat leads us to thy fairy shrine. There if wc find the sigh, the tear, They are not those to Sorrow known ; But hreath so soft, and dro]ts so elear. That Bliss may claim them for her own. Then give me, give me, while 1 weep. The sanguine hope that hrightens woe. And teaches e'en our tears to keep The tinge of pleasure as they flow. Tlie ehild who sees the dew ot night L'poii the spangled hedge at morn, Attempts to catch the drops of light. But wounds his finger with the thorn. Tlius oft the brightest joys we seek Are lost, when touch'd, and turn'd to pain ; The Hush they kindled leaves the cheek. The teais they waken long remain. But oivc me. give me, t!i:c. Arc. 11)7 11" TilOU WOULDST HAVE ME S[N(; AND IM,AY F thou woiildst have me sing and play As once I play'd and sung, First take this time-worn Uite away. And bring one freshly strung. Call haek the time when Ploasuvc's sigh First breath'd among the strings ; And Time himself, in flitting by, ^lade music with his wings. Hut how is this ? Though new the lute, And shining fresh the chords, lieneath this hand they slundjer mute, Or speak but dreamy words. In vain 1 seek the soul that dwelt Within that once sweet shell, \\'hich told so warmly what it felt, And felt what nought could tell. Oh, ask not then tor passion's lay, From lyre so coldly strung ; \\ ith this I ne'er can sing or play, As once I play'd and sung. Xo. bring that long-loved lute again,— Though chill'd by ^-ears it be. Tf tlioii wilt call the slund)'ring strain, 'Twill wake again for thee. 198 Tlioiiuli time liavc tro/.cn tlic liinL-fiil stri'ain ( )f tlimights tliat gusliM aluno-, One look from tlu-e. like >iiiniiK'r"s l)faiii, ^^'ill thaw tlieni into soiiy. 'I'Ir'ii give, oh give, tliat wak'iiing lav ; And, onoe moic lilillu' and voung, Thy hard again will sing and [day As once he jday'd and snng. THOU ART, GOD. "The day is tliine, tlie niglit also is tliine : tliou hast piepareii the lifilit and the sun. " Tliou liast set all the borders of the earth : tliou hast made summer and winter."— PiY//M Ixxiv. IG, 17. HOU art, O God, the life and liglit Of all this wondrous world we see ; Its glow hy day, its smile hy night. Are but reflections caught from Thee. AMiere'er we turn, Thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are Thine ! When Day, with fai'cwell beam, delays Among the op'ning clouds of Even, Aiid we can ahiiost think we gaze Through golden vistas into heaven — Those hues that make the Sun's decline So soft, so radiant, TiORi) I are Thine. 1!)!) ^^ hen Xiglif. witli \vini;s of stanv lilooni. O'eisliadows all the earth and skies. Like some daik, heauteons bird, whose plume "-/ ^'fU^', -^^^^ Is sparkling with unnimibcr'd eyes — That sacred gloom, those fires divine, So grand, so conntless, Lohd ! arc Thine. 2(H) ^^'hc^ voutliful SjM'ing around us broatlios. Thy Spirit warms lior fra sunny air winging, Swift hast thou come o'er the for-sliining sea. Like Seba's dove, on tliy snowy neek bringing Love's written vows from my lover to me. ( )li, in thy absenee, what hours did I number ! — Saying oft, " Idle bird, how could he rest?'' But thou art come at last ; take now thy shnnbei'. And lull thee in dreams of all thou lov'st best. Yet dost thou droop — even now while I utter Love's happy welcome, thy pulse dies away ; Cheer thee, my bii-d — were it life's ebbing flutter, This fondling bosom should woo it to stay. ])ut no — thou'rt dying — thy last task is over — Farewell, sweet martyr to Love and to me ! 'i'he smiles thou hast wakeii'd by news from my lover, Will now all br tutiiM into wci'ipiii!;- for thee. 201 SOXG. HOUGH sacred the tic tliat our country entwinetli, And dear to the heart Iier reniemhrance rc- nianis, Yet lUu'k are the ties where no liberty .shineth, Aiul sad the remembrance that slavery stains. O Liberty, born in the cot of the peasant, liut dying of languor in luxury's dome, Our vision, when absent — our glory, when present — Where thou art, () Libertv I there is mv home. ]''arewell to the land M'here in childhood I wander'd I In vain is she mighty, in vain is she brave ; Uiddess'd is the blood that for t_\Tants is squander'd, And Fame has no wreaths for the brow of the slave. But hail to thee, Albion I who moet'st the commotion Of Europe, as calm as thy cliffs meet the foam ; AN'ith no bonds but the law, and no slave but the ocean, Hail, Temple of Liberty ! thou art my home. 26 2(>2 COME, PLAY ME THAT SIMPLE AIR AGAIN. A BALLAD. OME, play nie tliat i>inn>le air again, I used so to love, in life's young day, And bring, if thou canst, the dreams that then Were waken'd by that sweet hiy. The tender gloom its strain Shed o'er the heart and brow. Grief's shadow, without its pain — Say where, where is it now ? Ihit ])lay me the well-known air once more, l^)r thoughts of youth still haunt its strain, Like dreams of some far, fairy shore We never shall see again. Sweet air, how every note Ijrings back Some sunny hope, some day-dream bright, That, .shining o'er life's early track, Fill'd ev'n its tears with light ! The new-found life that came With love's first echo'd vow ; — The fear, the bliss, the shame — Ah — where, where are they now ? IJut still the same loved notes prolong. For sweet 't were thus, to that old lay. In dreams of youth and love and song. To breathe life's hour awav. 208 AWAKE, ARISE, THY LIGHT IS COME. 'M AVAKE, arise, thy light is come ; 1 The nations, that hefore outshone tlieo, * Now at thy feet He dark and dmnli — The gh)ry of the Lord is on thee ! Arise — the Gentiles to thy ray From ev'ry nook of earth shall cluster ; And kings and princes haste to pay Their homage to thy rising lustre. Lift up thine eyes around, and see, OVr foreign fields, o'er farthest waters, Thy exiled sons return to thee, To thee return thy home-sick daughtei's. And camels rich, from Midian's tents, iShall lay their treasures down hefore thee ; And Saba bring her gold and scents. To fill thy air and sparkle o'er thee. See, who are these that, like a cloud, Are gathering from all earth's dominions, Like doves, long absent, when allow'd Homeward to shoot their ticndiling pinions Surely the isles shall wait for me. The ships of Tarshish round will hover. l>04 'J'(» l»iiii!>- thy son?; across tlie sea, Ami waft their gold ami silver over. Ami Lebanon thy ponip shall gi-ace — The Hr, the pine, the palm victorious Shall heautify our Holy Place, And make the orouml I tread on glorious, Xo more shall Discord haunt thy ways, Nor ruin waste thy cheerless nation ; But thou shalt call thy portals, Praise, And thou shalt name thy walls, Salvation. The sun no more shall make thee briglit, Nor moon shall leml her lustre to thee ; But God Himself shall be thy Light, And flash eternal glory through thee. The sun shall never more go down ; A ray, from Heaven itself descended, Shall light thy everlasting crown — Thy days of mourning all are ended. My own, elect, and righteous Land ! The Branch, for ever green and vernal, Which. 1 have planted with this hand — Live thou shalt in Life ]']tenial. SONG. S once a Grecian maiden wove Her garland mid the sununer Ijow'rs, ^-^ There stood a youth, with eyes of h)vc, To watch lu'i' while she wrcath'd tlic flow'rs. 206 Tlio youth was skill'd in Painting's art, J?ut ne'er had studied woman's l»row. Nor knew what magie Inies tlie lieart Can slied o'er Nature's charms, till now. Blest he Love, to whom we owe All that's fair and hriiiht helow. His liand had pictured many a rose, And sketch'd the rays that light the hrook But what were these, or what were those. To woman's blush, to woman's look? " Oh, if such magic pow'r there be, 'I'his, this," he cried, " is all my prayer. To jiaint that living light I see. And fix the soul that sparkles there." ITis prayer, as soon as hreath'd, was heard ; His pallet, touch'd by Love, grew warm. And Painting saw her hues trausferr'd Fi'om lifeless flow'rs to woman's form. Still as from tint to tint he stole. The fair design shone out the more ; And there was now a life, a soul. Where only colonis glowM before. 'I'hen first carnations learn'd to speak. Ami lilies into life were brought ; While, mantling on the maiden's cheek, Voung roses kindled into thought. 207 Then hyacinths their darkest tlyes Upon the locks of Beauty threw : And violets, transfbrniM to eyes, Enshrined a soul witliiu their liluc. Blest he Love, to whom we owe All that "s fair and hright helow. Song was cold and Painting dim Till Sono- and Painting Icarn'd from him. JOYS OF YOUTH, HOW FLEETING ! ■W^ HISP'KIXGS, heard hy Avakeful maids, )pi' To whom the night-stars guide us ; Stolen walks through moonlit shades, ■NVitli those we love heside ns, Hearts heating, At meeting ; Tears starting, At parting ; Oh, sweet youth, how soon it fades ! Sweet joys of youth, how fleeting ! 208 Wanirrings far away from lK>ino, With life all now before us ; Greetings warm, when home we eome, From hearts whose pi'ayers watch'cl o'er us. Teai's starting, At parting; Hearts beating-, At meeting; Oh, sweet youth, how lost on some ! To some, how brisiht and fleetine,- ! 20!) WHEN ¥U\^T I :vrKT THElv HEN first I met thee, warm and vouiiy. There shone such truth about thee, And (in thv lip such pi-onii.se hung. I (hd not dare to doubt thee. 1 saw thee chani!;e. yet still relied. Still chmii' with hope the fonder. And thought, though false to all beside, From me thou eouldst not wander. But go, deceiver ! go : The heart whose hopes could make it Trust one so false, so low, Deserves that thou shoiddst l^reuk it. When every tongue thy follies named. I fled the unwelcome story ; Or found, in oven the faults they blamed, vSome gleams of future glory. / still Avas true, when nearer friends Conspired to wrong, to slight thee ; The heart that now thy falsehood rends Would then have bled to right thee. But go, deceiver ! go, — Some day, perhaps, thou 'It waken From pleasure's dream, to kiKjw The grittf of hearts forsaken. Even DOW, though youth its bloom has shed,- No lights of age adorn thee : The few, who loved thee once, have fled. And they, who flatter, scorn thee. 27 21(1 Thy luiilniglit rup ih jilcdood to slaves, No gcjiial ties emn-eath it : The smiling there, like light on graves, Has rank cold hearts beneath it. Go — go — though worlds were thine, I would n(jt now surrender One taintless tear of mine For all thy gu'lty splendour. And days may come, thou false one ! yet, When even those ties shall sever ; When thou wilt call, with vain regret, On her thou 'st lost for ever ; On her who, in th}- fortune's fall. With smiles had still received thee, And gladly died to prove thee all Her fancy first believed thee. Cto — go — 'tis vain to curse, 'T is weakness to upbraid thee ; Hate cannot wish thee worse Than guilt and shame have made thee. 211 THERE'S SOMETHING STRANGE. (a buffo song.) • T lEERE'S somotliino' ^tiaiigo, I know not what, ^ Come o'er nie, Some i)hantom I 've for ever got Before me. I look on high, and in the sky 'Ti.s shining ; On eartli, its light with all things bright Seems twining. In vain I try this goblin's spells To sever ; Go where I will, it round me dwells For ever. And then what tricks by day and night It plays me ; In ev'ry shape the wicked sprite A^ ay lays me. Sometimes like two bright eyes of bine 'Tis glancing ; Sometimes like feet, in slippers neat, Comes dancing. By whispers ronnd of eveiy sort I'm tannted. Xever was mortal man, in .short, So haunted. 212 TITEX FIRST FROM LOVE. HEN first fioni Love, in Nature's bow'rs, Did Painting learn her fairy skill, And cull tlie hues of loveliest flow'rs, To picture woman lovelier still. For vain was every radiant hue, Till Passion lent a soul to art, iVnd taught tlie painter, ere he drew, To fix the model in his heart. 'I'hus smooth his toil awhile went on, Till, lo, one touch his art defies ; The brow, the lip, the blushes shone. But who could dare to paint those eyes ? *Twas all in vain the j)ainter strove; So turning to that boy divine, " Here take," he said, " the pencil, Love, No hand should paint such eyes but thine." ^.,/f^n-^ T^^^S /■ -' 0^>^^ Sc THE RUSSIAN LOVER. F LEETLY o'er the moonlit snows Speed we to my lady's bow'r ; 214 Swift our sledge as lightning goe«, Kor shall stoj) till morning's honr. Bright, my steed, the northern star Lights us from von jewell'd skies ; But, to greet us, brighter far. Morn shall bring my lady's eyes. Lovers, lull'd in sunny bow'rs, Sleeping out tlioii' dream of time. Know not half the bliss that's ours. In this snowy, icy clime. Like yon star that livelier gleams From the frosty heavens around, Love himself the keener beams ^\'hen with snows of coyness crown'i Fleet then on, my merry steed ; Bound, my sledge, o'er hill and d;de AVhat can match a lover's speed '! Sec, 'tis daylight, bi'eaking pale I Brightly hath the iiorthern star I^it us from yon radiant skies ; But, l)ehold, how brighter far Yonder sjiine mv ladv's eves I 215 I'D MOURN THE HOPES. 'D mourn the hopes that leave me, ■ If thv smiles had left me too ; ?' I'd ^^■ eep when friends deceive me. If thou wert, like them, untrue. But while I've thee hefore me, With heart so warm and eyes so bright, No clouds can linger o'er me — That smile turns them all to light. 'Tis not in fate to harm me. While fate leaves thy love to me ; 'T is not in joy to charm me, Unless joy be shared with thee. One minute's dream about thee Were worth a long, an endless year Of waking bliss without thee. My own love, my only dear I And tliough the hope be gone, love, That long sparkled o'er our way, Oh ! we shall journey on, love, More safely, without its ray. Far better lights shall win me Along tbc path I 've yet to roam : — Tlie mind tliat bui'iis within me. And pure smiles from thee at home. 216 Thus wlioii llic lamp tliat lighted 'I'lie traveller at first goes out, He feels awhile benighted. And looks round in fear and doubt. But soon, the pros])ect clearing, By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering As that lio-ht which Heaven sheds. WREATH THE BOWL. KI-:AT11 the bowl With flowers of soul. The brightest Wit can find us ; We'll take a flight Tow'rds heaven to-night, And leave dull earth behind us. Should Love amid The wreaths be hid. That Joy, th' enchanter, brings us, Xo danger fear, AVhile wine is near^ We'll di'own him if li(> stings us ; 217 'I'Ir'11 wicalli llic lidwl W itli riowcTri of houl. 'I'lir l»iii;litost Wit can tiucl us ; We'll takr a tli-lit Tow'rd.s lioavt'ii tn-iiiglit, Aiul leave dull oaitli Ix'hiud u-j. 'T was nectar fed Of old, 'tis said,, 'J'lieir Junos, Jovcs, Apollos ; And man may Itrew His nectar too — Tlie rich receipt's as follows : Take wine like this. Let looks of bliss Around it well be blended, Then liriiig- Wit's beam To warm the stream. And there's your nectar, splendid So wreath the bowl AVith flowers of soul, 'I'he brightest Wit can find us ; We'll take a fli-lit Tow'rds heaven to-night. And leave dull earth behind us. Say, why did Time His glass sublime I'ill up with sands unsightly, \\ hen wine, he knew. Ituns l)risker through And sparkles far moie bright I \ ? Oh, lend it us. And, smiling thus, 2S 21^5 The glass in two we'll sever : Make pleasure gUile In double tide, And fill both enils for ever I Then wreath the bowl With flowers of soul, The brightest Wit enii find iis We'll take a flight Tew'rds heaven to-niglil, And leave dull t'arth beliiiid u^ 21!) BKHMLTDA. I^LTKVK inc. Tiiuly, wlicii tlic zopliyvs bland Fldiitod our bark to this encliantod land, — Those loafv isles upon the ocean thrown, "'' J)^ Like studs of emerald o'er a silver zone, — Not all the charm tliat ethnic fancy gave To blessed arbours o'er the western wave, Could wake a dream, moi'c soothing or sublime, Of bowel's etheival. and the Spiiit's eliine. Bright rose the morning, every wave was still, When the first perfume of a cedar hill Sweetly awaked us, and, with smiling charms, Tlie fairy harbour woo'd us to its arms. CJently wc stole, before the whisp'ring wind, Through plantain shades, that round, like awnings, twined And kiss'd on cither side the wanton sails. Breathing our welcome to these vernal vales ; ^^'hile, far reflected o'er the wave serene. Each wooded island shed so soft a green That the enamour'd keel, Avith whisp'ring play. Through liquid lieibage seem'd to steal its way. Never did weary bark more gladly glide. Or rest its anchor in a lovelier tide ! Along the margin, many a shining dome. White as the ])alace of a Lapland gnome, Brighten'd the wave ; — in every myrtle grove Secluded bashful, like a shrine of love, Some elfin mansion sparkled through the shade ; And, while the foliage interposing play'd. liCiidiii^ tlu' >c('iu' ill! I'vcr-cliiinniiii;- i;race, l'\uifv woulil Invc. ill ^liiiipsi's Viii;iio, tu trace 'I'lie llowfiT capital, tlic .sliaf't, the porcli, Aiul (Ircain of temples, till her kindling toix-li Lif^lited me back to all tlie glorious days Of Attic o'cnius ; and [ soem'd to gaze On marble, from tbe rich Pentelic mount, (iraciiig the UToln-ao-e of some Naiad's fount. SLUMBKR, OH ST.UMBER. LUMBER, oil slumber ; if sleeping tliou mak'st My beart beat so wildly, I'm lost if tliou wak'st. Tlius sung T to a maiden, A\ bo slept one snnnner's day, And, like a Hower oVTladen Witb too mucb sunsbine. lav. Slumlier, ob slumber, ikc. " Breathe not, oh bieatbo not, ye winds, o'er her cheeks If mute thus she charm me, I'm lost when she speaks." Thus sing 1. while, awaking. She niurnuirs words that seem As if her lips wimo taking Farewell of some sweet dream. Breathe not. oh breathe not. iVc. AVHEN TWILIGHT DEWS. '^■^^HEX twilight clews arc follino- soft Upon the rosy sea, love, , I watch the star, wliosc beam so oft Has lighted nie to thee, love. And thou too, on that orb so dear. Dost often gaze at even. And think, though lost for ovei' here, Thou 'It vet bo mine in heaven. 'riiorc's not a liardtii walk I tread. Tlicro's not a flow'r I .-cc. love. I'ut l)rino-s to miiul sonic liope that's Hcd. Some joy tliat's o-onc with thee, love. And still I wish that hour was near, "\\nien, friends and foes forgiven, The |)ains, tlie ills we've wept throiigh he INlav turn to smiles in heaven. OH! ARRANMORE. LOVED ARRANMOIM II ! Arranm()re, loved Aiianmore, flow oft 1 dream of thee, Anil of those days when, hy thy shore, I wander'd young' and free I Full many a path I've tried, since then, Through Pleasure's flower}' maze, Hut ne'er could find the bliss again T felt in those sweet days. How blithe upon thy breezy clifl's At sunny morn I've stood, With heart as bounding as the skiffs That danced along th}' flood ! ( )r. \vl\ru till' wi'slmi wave i^lrw liiinlit With daylight's parting wing, Have sought that Eden in its light Whioh dreaming poets sing ; — That Edc^n wIutc th' immortal brave Dwell in a land serene, — AVhose bow'rs beyond the shining wave, At snnset, oft are seen. Ah dream too full of sadd'ning truth ! Those mansions o'er the main Are like the hopes 1 huiU in youth, — As sunnv and as vain I ^.S^ THEN, FARE THEE WELL. HEN, fare thee well, my own dear love, This world has iiow for us No greater grief, no jiain above The pain of parting thus. Dear love 1 The ]^ain of parting tlius. Had wo but known, since first we met, Some few short hours of bliss, 224 AW- might, in luiiiib'iing tlioni, forgot The ilet'j), dcoji pain of this, Dear love ! The deep, deep ]>aiii nf this. But no, alas I we've never seen One glinijtse of Pleasure's vay. Hut still there came some cloud hetween, And chased it all away. Dear love ! And chased it all away. Yet, ev'n could those sad moments last. Far dearer to my heart Were hours of grief, together past. Than years of mirth a])art. Dear love I Than years of mirth apart. Farewell ! our hope Avas horn in fears, And nursed 'mid vain regrets ; Like winter suns, it rose in tcais. Like them in tears it sets, Dear hn e ! Like them in tears it sets. GUESS, GUESS. TiOVE a inaicl. a mystic maid, Whose form no eyes but mine can soo [^ She comes in hght, she comes in shade, And beautiful in both is slie. lier shape in di-cams I oft bcliold, And oft she whispers in my car Such words as when to others tokl, Awake the sigh, or wring the tear ; — Then guess, guess, who slie, Tlic ladv of niv love, may be. 1 find tlic histrc of her brow- Come o'er me in my darkest ways ; And feel as if her voice, ev'n now, Were echoing far off my lays. 'J'lierc is no scene of joy or woe But she doth gild witli inllurnoe bright And shed o'er all so rich a glow, As malics ev'n tears seem full of liglit : Then guess, guess, who she, Tlir ladv of mv lov<\ niav be. 22G THIS LIFE IS ALL CHEQUERD WITH PLEASURES AND WOES. JUS life is all cliequer'd with pleasures and woes, That chase one another like waves of the deep, — *\^ Each hriohtlv or darkly, as onward it flows, ^£^ Keflecting our eyes, as they sparkle or weep. So closely our whims on our miseries tread. That the lauiih is awaked ere the tear can be di-ied : And, as fiist as the rain-drop of Pity is shed, The goose-plumago of Folly can turn it aside. But pledge me the cup — if existence would cloy. With hearts ever happy, and heads ever wise. Be ours the light Sorrow, half-sister to Joy, iVnd the light, brilliant Folly that flashes and dies. AMion Ilylas was sent with his urn to the fount. Through fields full of light, and with heart full of play. Light rambled the bo}', over meadow and mount, And neglected his task for the flowers on the way. Thus many, like me, who in youth shoidd have tasted The fountain that runs by Philosophy's sluine, Their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted, And left their light urns all as empty as mine. But pledge me the goblet : — while Idleness weaves These flow'rets together, should AA'isdom liut see One bright drop or two that has fall'n on the leaves. From her fountain divine, 'tis sufticient for me. farewell: — BUT WHENEVER VOL' WELCOME THE llOUK. i^)^ AKEWELL I — but wluncvor you welcome the liour. That awakens the uight-sonn' (if ninth in youi bower, Then thhik of the friend who onoe wt-lconied it tcxi. Ami forgot his own griefs (o be; ha]»py witli you. iris griefs may return, not a hope may remain (->f the few that have briglitcn'd his jiatliway of pain. But he ne'er will forget the short vision, that threw Its enchantment around him, while lingVing with vou. And still on that evening, when pleasure fills u]> To the highest top sparkle each heart and each cup, Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright. My soul, happy fiiends, shall be with you that niglit ; Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your wiles, And return to me, beaming all o'er with your smiles — Too blest, if it tells me that, 'mid the gay cheer, iSome kind voice liad murmur'd, " I wish he were heiv 1 " Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ; AN'hich come in the niglit-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear. Long, long be my heart with such memories fill'd ! Like the vase, iu wliich roses have once been distill'd — You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will. But the scent of the roses will han kind young eyes, Such sigual-fircs as here are given. — And down he'll drop from Fancy's heaven, The minute sueh call to love or mirth I'loclaims he's wantinif on earth ! ^^'v "T-X .M. 2.32 GO, THEN— 'TIS VAIN. (SICILIAN AIR.) < ), tlion — 'tis vain to hover Thus round a hope that's dead ; ;Vt length my dream is over ; 'Twas sweet — 'twas false — 'tis fled ! Farewell ! since nought it moves thee, Such trutli as mine to see — Some one, who far less loves thee, Perhaps more bless'd will be. Farewell, sweet oxob, whose brightness New life around me shed ; Farewell, false heart, whose lightness Now leaves me death instead. (to, now, those charms surrender I'o some new lover's sigh — < h)c who, though far less tender, -May be more bless'd than T. ■i'(» SI(;il, Yi:'l' I'KKL No I'AIN. () siuli. yet tV't'l 111) i>aiii ; To weop. v<'t scaici' know wliy : To sport an hour witli Beauty's rhain, Tlicn throw it idly hy. To kncfl at many a shrine, Yet hiy the heart on none ; To think all other charms divine, But those we just have won. This is love, faithless love, Such as kindleth hearts that rove. To keep one sacied ilame. Through life imchiU'd, unmoved ; To love, in wintry age, the same As first in youth we loved ; To feel that we adore, Ev'n to such fond excess. That, though the heart would break, with more. It could not live with less. This is love, foithful love, Such as saints might feel above. 30 YOUNG JESSICA. "VTOUNG Jessica sat all the day, Will) heart o'er idle love-thrnin-hts jiinini;- : 235 llrr ncL'dk- luinlit be^^i(l(• hvv lay. So active once I — now idly shiniiiii-. Ah, Jessy ! 'ti.s in idle licails That love and niifeifhief are most niiiiliU' The safest shield ac. As evening closes round his lyre, ( )ne ray njton its cliords from thee. LIGHT SOUNDS THE HA UP. IGHT sounds the liarp whou tlie (.-onibiit is over, '-I'^k When hei'oes are resting, and joy is in bloom ; When laurels hang loose from the brow of the lover, ^^'>J^ fi^'»^_ And ('n]>i(I makes wings of the warrioi's phinie. 241 IJiit. wlicu tlic tni' rciunis, Aii,-;iiii the ln'i-o liiinis ; iriL^'li flames the sword in liis liaiul once more: The elano- of minolino- arms Is tluMi tlie sound tliat cliainis, And lira/.en notes of war, that stirring trumpets pour; — Then, aii-ain comes the Harp, wlien tlie eomltat is over — W hen hei'oes are restino'. and Joy is in hloom — \\ lien hinrels liani;' loose fnmi tho Ixow of tlic lover, And C'n[)id makes winos of the warrior's plnme. Tiiolit went the liarp wlien th(^ War-God, reclining, Ia\\ hiird on the wliite arm of J3eauty to I'cst, \\dien round his rich armour the myrtle hung twining. And flights of young doves made his helmet their in^st. But, when the hattle came. The hero's eye breath'd flame : Seen from liis neck the white arm was flung; Wliilc, to his wak'ning ear, Xo other sounds were dear lUit brazen notes of war, hy thousand trumpets sung. But then came the light harp, when danger was ended, And Beauty once more lullM the War-God to rest ; When tresses of gold with his laurels lay blended. And flights of vonng doves made his helmet their nest. WW 31 '24-2 I'OOll I5R()KEX FLOWER. ^ '^'^'^ OOR broken flower I wliat art can now recover tliee ? Toiii from the stem (liat fed tliy rosy breath — 111 vain the snn-beams seek cui}"W%~^ I'o warm tliat faded cheek ; Tlie dews of hcav'n, that once like bahn fell over thee, Now ai'c but tears, to weep thy early death. So droops the maid whose lover hath forsaken her, — Thrown from his arms. a> lone and lost as thou ; Tn vain the smiles of all Tjike snn-beams round her fall ; 'J'ho only smile that could from death awaken her, That smile, alas I is jjone to others now. ■2i:) FANCY AND RKALITY. ^HE mull' I've vic'wVl this world, the more I've t'ouiid. That, tillM as 'tis with scenes and crcatuios rare. I'ancv coniniands, witliin her own hri^ht round. A world of scenes and creatures far more fair. Nor is it that her power can call up there A single charm, that's not from Nature won, No more than rainbows, in their pride, can wear A single hue unborrow'd from the sun — But 'tis the mental medium it shines through, That lends to Beauty all its charm and hue ; As the same light, that o'er the level lake One dull monotony of lustre tlings, AN'ill. entering in the rounded rain-drop, make (_'o!ouis as gay as those on Peris' wings ! And such, I deem, the ditf'rence between the real, Existing Beauty aud that form ideal AMiich she assumes, when seen by poets' eyes, Like sunshine in the drop — with all those dyes "Which Fancy's variegating prism supplies. 1 have a story of two lovers, till'd AVith all the pure romance, the blissful sadness, And the sad, doubtful bliss, that ever thrill'd Two young and longing hearts in that sweet madness. Bat where to choose the region of my vision In this wide, vuluar world — what real spot 244 (^an bo found out sufficiently Kly.'^ian For two suc-h j)oi'fect lovers, T know not. Oh for rtonio fair Fohmosa, bucIi as he, The young Jew fabled of, in the' Indian Soa, By nothing but its name of JJeauty known, And which Queen Fancy might nuike all her own. Her fairy kingdom — take its people, lands. And tenements into her own bright hands, And make, at least, one earthly corner fit For Love to live in, j)ure and exquisite I ^.^^i THE ENULISH ABROAD. :^ ND is there then no earthly place. Where we can rest, in dream El^-sian, Without some curst, round English face, Popping up near, to break the vision ? 'Mid northern lakes, 'mid southern vines. Unholy cits we're doom'd to meet ; Nor highest Alps nor Apennines Are sacred from Threadneedle Street ! If up the Simplon's path we wind, Fancying we leave this worltl behind. 245 .Sucli pleasant souiuU .>alutc inu' .^ oar As — •* IJaiklisli news fioni "C'liaiiiic. my dcur — 'riic Fluids — (plu'W. rinse this iiyly hill I) — Are lew'iino- fast — (what, hioher still?) — And — (zoi>ks. we're niountino- uj) to lieavt'u I )— \\ ill soon he down to sixty-seven." (io where we may — rest where we will, Eternal London haunts us still. The trash of Almaek's or Fleet Diteh — And searce a ])in's head difference whirl, — Mi.\cs, though ev'n to Greece we run, With evei-y rill from Helicon I Ami if this rage for travelling lasts, If Cockneys, of all sects and castes, Old maidens, aldermen, and squires, Will leave their puddings and coal fires, To gape at things in foreign lands No soul among them understands ; If Blues desert their coteries, To show off 'mong the Wahabees ; If neither sex nor age controls, Xov fear of Mamelukes forhids Young ladies, with pink parasols. To glide among the Pn-amids — Why, then, farewell all hope to find A spot that's free from London-kind I Who knows, if to the West we roam, i>ut we may find some Jlliii- " at home"' Among the Bluckn of Carolina — ( >r. Hying to the Eastward, see S(ime .Mrs. Hdi-kins, taking tea And toast upon tl:c Wall i>l' China ! 246 CLOUDS AND MOUNTAINS. \'I{;N here, in tliis region of wonder8, I find Tliat liglit-fuoted Fancy leaves trutli far behind Or, at least, like llippomenea, turns her astray I>y the golden illusions he flings in her way. What a glory it seem'd the first evening I gazed ! Mont Blanc, like a vision, then suddeidy raised On the wreck of the sunset — and all his array Of high-toAvcring Alps, touch'd still with a light Far holier, purer than that of the Day, As if nearness to Heaven had made them so bright ! Then the dying, at last, of these splendours away From peak after peak, till they left but a ray. One roseate ray, that, too precious to fly. O'er the Mighty of Mountains still glowingly hung, Like the last sunny step of AsxniEA, when high From the summit of earth to Elysiixm she sprung ! And those infinite Alps, stretching out from the sight Till they mingled with Heaven, now shorn of their light, Stood lofty, and lifeless, and pale in the sky, Like the ghosts of a Giant Creation gone by ! That scene — I have vicw'd it this evening a*ain, By the same brilliant light that hung over it then — The valley, the lake in their tenderest charms — Mont Blanc in his awfulest pomp — and the whole, A bright picture of Beauty, reclined in the arms Of Sublimity, bridegroom elect of her soul ! 247 Hut where are the inountains. that rmuul ine at first, < )iie dazzliiin' hoi'i/.oii ni' iniraeles, burst? Those Alps boyoiul Ali)s, without cud swelling on Ij'ike the waves of eternity — where arc thei/ gone ? Clouds — clouds — they were notliing hut clouds, after all I That chain of Mont Bi^ants, which my fancy Hew o'ci- ^^'ith a wonder that nought on this earth can recall, AVere but clouds of the evening, and now are no ni(jre. h.. X3'i-V .. ■)) AT NIGHT. T night, when all is still around, I low sweet to hear the distant sound Of footstep, coming soft and light I What pleasure in the anxious beat, With whieh the bosom flics to meet That foot that comes so soft at nio-lit ! And then, at night, how sweet to say " 'Tis late, my love I " and chide delay. Though still the western clouds are bright Oh ! happy, too, the silent press, The eloquence of mute caress, With those we love exchanged at niglit I ^ffr/ GENEVA. WAS late — the sun liad almost slioiio I ?Vc^ llis ^'^•''t ^^^^ ^^^t' wlieii I ran (in. >'^W^t'?'( Anxious to reach that s|ilcn(liil view, " ' "^^^ Before the day-heanis quite withdrew And feeling as all feel, on tirst Ap]iroaehino' scenes where, thev are ty iiistiiK't in tlio oan-c to ri.sc, A\ lien ni'ar tlieii' time for cliann'c of skies; That ])i'oii(l assuianco of our claim To rank anion <>• the vSons of liin-ht. IMinu'lc'd with shame — oh hitler shame I — jVt having risk'd that splendid rigiit, For aught that earth through all its range Of glories, offers in exehange I 'Twas all this, at that instant hrought, liike hreaking sunshine, o'er my thought— "Twas all this, kiiulled to a glow Of saered zeal, whieh, eould it shine Thus purely eA'er. man might gi'ow Kv'n upon eaith a thing divine. And he, once moie, the creature made To walk unstninM the' Elvsian shade I Xo, never shall I lose the trace Of what 1 've felt in this hright place. And, should my s])irit's ho]>e grow weak, Should 1, O (irod, e'er donht thy pow'r, This mighty scene again I'll seek, At the same calm and glowing hour. And here, at the suhlimest shrine That Nature ever rear'd to Thee. Jvekindle all that hope divine. And feel mv immortality I L>.->1 SYMPATHY. sine me sit nulla Venus. — Sulpici.v. R heart;;, my love, were formM to Ko Tlic genuine twins of Svmi)atliy, Tliey live with one sensation : In joy or grief, but most in love, Like chords in unison they move, And thrill with like vibration. How oft I've heard thee fondly say, Thy vital pulse shall cease to play When mine no more is moving ; Since now. to feel a joy alone Were worse to thee than feeling none, So twinn'd are we in lovino- 1 "^r' SONG. .xii^^^^k:^ AVE you not seen the timid tear Steal trembling from mine eye ? Have }ou not mark'd (he tliish of fear, Or cauffht the murmur 'd si"h ? And can you think my love is chill. Nor fix'tl on you alone ? And can you ivnil, hy doubting still, A heart so nuioli your own? To you my soul'is affections move, Devoutly, warmly true ; My life has been a task of love, One long, long thought of you. 1 f all your tender faith he o'er. If still my truth you'll try ; Alas, I know but one proof more — T '11 bless vour mune. and die I 253 ELEGIAC STANZAS, SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN HY JULIA, ON TUE DEATH OF HER RROTnEIi. ^f^i^^ HOUGH sorrow long has worn my heart ; Though every day I've counted o'er Hath brought a new and quick'ning smart To wounds that rankled fresh before ; Though in my earliest life bereft Of tender links by nature tied ; Though hope deceived, and pleasure left ; Though friends betray'd and foes belied ; I still had hopes — for hope will stay iVfter the sunset of delight ; So like the star which ushers day, We scarce can think it heralds night ! — 1 hoped that, after all its strife, My weai'y heart at length should rest, And, fainting from the waves of life, Find harbour in a brother's breast. That brother's breast was warm with truth, Was bright with honour's purest ray ; He was the dearest, gentlest youth — Ah, why then was he torn away? He should have stay'd, have linger'd here To soothe his Julia's every woe ; He should have chased each bitter tear, And not have caused those tears to flow. 2r>4 W'v saw within his .--(nil expand Thu fiiiits of i>('iiius. iHirsrd \i\ laste ; AV'hilo Science, with a t'ost'iiiiu' hand, L'pon liis hi-nw her chapk't jilaccd. We saw, hv liriii'iit degrees, his mind Grow rich in all that makes men dear ;- Enligliten'd, social, and refined. In friendship firm, in love sincere. iSuch was the youth we loved so well. And such the hopes that fate denied ; — We loved, hut ah I could scarcely tell How deep, how dearly, till he died ! Close as the fondest liidis coidd stiain, Twined with my very heart he grew ; And by that fate which hreaks the chain The heart is almost broken too. OH FAIR ! OH PFREST ! SAINT AUGUSTINE TO HIS SISTER. /^II fair ! oh purest I l)0 tlum tho dove That flics alone to some sunnv "rove. 256 And lives unseen, and hatlies her wing, All vestal white, in the lini])i(l spi'ino-. "^riiere, if the linv'iiiio- hawk he near. That limpid spring' in its niii-ror clear Reflects him, ere he reach his prey, And warns the timorous hird away. Be thou this dove ; Fairest, purest, ho thou this dove. The sacred pages of Gob's own hoek Shall he the spring, th(* eternal hrook. In whose holy mirror, night and day, 'i'hou'lt study Heaven's reflected ray; — And should the foes of virtue dare. With gloomy wing, to seek thee there, Thou wilt see how dark their shadows lie Between Heaven and thee, and treinhling fly ! Be thou that dove ; Fairest, purest, ho thou that dove. 2r>7 IIAKK ! 'TTS THE I'.RKEZE. (air— KOUSSEAU.) AKK I 'tis the lu'eozo of twiliglit falliiio- Ivirth's weary children to repose ; While, round the couch of Nature follino-, Gently the night's soft curtains close. Soon o'er a world, in sleep reclining, Numhcrless stars, through yonder dark. Shall look, like eyes of Cherubs shining From out the veils that hid the Ark. (juard us, () Thou, who never sleepest, I'hou who, in silence throned above. Throughout all time, unwearied, keepest Thy watch of Glory, Pow'r, and Love. Grant that, beneath thine eye, securely, Oiu' souls, awhile from life withdrawn. May, in their darkness, stilly, purely. Like " sealed fountains," rest till dawn. :3:J 258 HAS SORROW THY YOUNG DAYS SHADED. '' AS sorrow thy young- days shaded, As clouds o'er the morning fleet ? Too fiist have those young days faded, '^iJ' That, even in sorrow, wei'e sweet ! Does Time with his cold wing wither Each feeling that once was dear ? — Then, child of misfortune, come hithei- ; I'll weep with thoe, tear for tear. l[as love to that soul, so tender, lieen like our Lageuian mine, Where sparkles of golden splendour All over the sm-foce shine — JJut, if in pursuit we go deeper. Allured by the gleam that shone. Ah I false as the dream of the sleeper, Like Love, the bright ore is gone. Has Hope, like the bird in the story, That flitted from tree to tree ^\'ith the talisman's glitt'ring glory — • Has Hope been that l)iid to tliee? On branch after brancli alighting, The gem did she still display. And, when nearest and most inviting, Then waft the fair o-cm awav ? 250 If thus the young hours have flceteit, A\'heii sorrow itself looked hright ; if tiuis the fan' hojie hath cheateil. 'I'hat led thee along so light ; If thus the e(jld world now wither Kaeh fei'ling that once was dear : — - Come, child of misfortune, come hither, I'll weep with thee, tear for tear. THE SHRINE. Y fates had destined me to rove A long, long pilgrimage of love ; And many an altar on my way Has lured my pious steps to stay For, if the saint was young and fair, I turn'd and sung my vespers there. This, fi'om a youthfid pilgrim's fire. Is what your pretty saints require : To pass, nor teU a single bead, With them would be profane indeed ! But, trust me, all this young devotion Was but to keep my zeal in motion ; And, ev'i'y humbler altar past, I now have reach'd the shrine at last ! W *V«;^ X 'i.r^ - BEAUTY AND SONG. OWN ill yon suinnier vak', Whero the rill flows, Tims said a Niglitingale To lii> loved Eosc : — 261 " Tlioiigli rich tlio plcasinos Of Song's sweet measures, Vain were its melody. Rose, without tliee.'' Then from the green recess Of her niglit-l)ow"r, Beaming with hashfuhioss, Spoke the bright flow'r : — " Though morn should lend her Its sunniest splendour, What would the Rose be, Unsung by thee ? " Thus still let Song attend Woman's bright way ; Thus still let woman lend Light to the lay. Like stars, through heaven's sea, Floating in harmony. Beauty shall glide along. Circled by Song. 262 TO LORD VISCOUNT STRANGFOllD. AliOAlU) THE l-OAKTON FUIGATE, OFF THE AZORES, BY MOONLIGHT. ^^Xs^WEET Muuii : il, like Crotona's sage, *a 13y any spell my hand could dare To make thy disk its ample page, And write my thoughts, my wishes there ; ITow many a friend, whose careless eye Now wanders o'er that starry sky, Sliould smile, upon thy orh to meet The recollection, kind and sweet, The reveries of fond regret. The promise, never to forget, And all my heart and soul would send To many a dear-loved, distant fi-iend. How little, when we parted last, I thought those pleasant times were past. For ever past, when hrilliant joy Was all my vacant heart's employ : When, fresh from mirth to mirth again, We thoiiglit the rapid hours too few ; Our only use for knowledge then To gather hliss from all we knew. Delicious days of whim aiul soul ! Wlien, mingling lore and laugh together, We lean'd the book on Pleasure's bowl. And turn'd the leaf with Folly's feather, liittle I thought that all were fled, That, ere that smmner's bloom was shed. My eye should see the sail mifurl'd That wafts me to the western woild. 263 Ami yet, 'twas time ; — in youth's swoot day; To cool that .season's glowing rays. The heart a while, with wanton wing, ]\lay (lip and (Hve in Pleasure's spring ; But, if it wait for winter's breeze, The spring will chill, the heart will freeze. And then, that Hope, that fairy Hope, — Oh ! she awaked such happy dreams. And gave my soul such tempting scope For all its dearest, fondest schemes, That not Verona's child of song, AMien flying from the Phrygian shore, A\'ith lighter heart could hound along, Or pant to be a wand'rer more ! Even now delusive hope will steal Amid the dark regrets T feel. Soothing, as yonder placid beam Pursues the murmurers of the deep, And lights them with consoling gleam. And smiles them into tranquil sleep. Oh ! such a blessed night as this, I often think, if friends were near, How we should feel, and gaze with bliss Upon the moon-bright scenery here ! The sea is like a silvery lake. And o'er its calm the vessel glides Gently, as if it fear'd to wake The slumber of the silent tides. The only envious cloud that lowers Hath hung its shade on Pico's height, Where dimly, mid the dusk, he towers. And scowling at this heav'n of light, Exults to see the infant storm Oling darkly I'ound his giant form I 2f)4 Now, could I range those verdant isles, Iiivisibli' at this soft hour, And sec the looks, the heaming smiles. That hrighten many an orange hower ; And could I lift each pious veil, And see the hlushing cheek it shadas, — Oh ! I should have full many a tale, To tell of young Azorian maids. Yes, Strangford, at this hour, perhaps. Some lover (not too idly blest, Like those, who in their ladies' laps May cradle every wish to rest) Warhles, to touch his dear one's soul, Those madi'igals, of breath divine, Which Camoens' harp from Rapture stole, And gave, all glowing warm, to thine. Oh ! could the lover learn from thee. And breathe them with thy gracefiU tone. Such sweet, beguiling minstrelsy Would make the coldest nymph his own. But, hark ! — the boatswain's pipings tell 'Tis time to bid my dream fai'cwell : ICight bells : — the middle watch is set ; Good night, my Strangford ! — ne'er forget That, far beyond the western sea Is one whose heart i-emembcrs thee. X^ FROM 'LALLA ROOKH." 34 .7, ^ 'HJ* *a«3^" THE LOWER OF ROSES. FKOM " THE VEILED PROrnET OF KHORASSAN." HERE'S a howor of roses Iiy BENBF.srEKR's stream. And the iiiolitingalc sings round it all the day long ; ^f'.J^Sf.'iV Tn the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dronm. To sit in the roses and hear the hird's sonff. 268 'Hiat howcr ami its music I never forget ; I Jilt oft when olone, in the bloom of the year. 1 fliiiik — is the nightingale singing there yet? Arc the roses still bright by the calm Bkxdkmf.er ? No, the roses soon withor'd that linng o'er the wave. But some blossoms were gatlierVl, while freshly they shone, And a (lew was distill'd from their flowers, tliat gave All the fragrance of summer, when sunmier was gone. Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, An essence that breathes of it many a year ; Thus bright to my sold, as "twas then to my eyes, Ts that bower on the banhs ol the calm T5knde5IEER I '^i^V^r^ THE DEFEAT OF MOKANNA. FHOM ■■ THE VEILED riiOrHET OF KHORASSAN." HOSE are the gilded tents that ciowd the way, A\'licre all was waste and silent yesterday? Tliis City of War which, in a few short hom*s, FTath sprung u]) heie, as if the magic powers Of Jliin who. in liie twinkling of a star. Built the liigh pillar'd balls of Chilminar, Had conjured up, far as tlie eye can see. This world of tents, and dnmes, and sun-bright anuorv : — 2G0 i'riiurly pavilions, screoii'd bv ninny a fold Of" crimson dutli, and topjiM with lialls of oold : — Steeds, witli their lionsings of I'ieii silver spun, Their chains and poitrels glitt'ring in the sun ; And camels, tufted o'er with "W-men's shells, Shaldng in every breeze their light-toned hells ! But ycster-eve, so motionless around, So mute was this wide plain, that not a sound But the far torrent, or the locust hird Hunting among the thickets, could be heard ; — Yet hai'k ! what discords now, of ev'ry kind, Shouts, laughs, and screams are revelling in the wim The neigh of cavalry ; — the tinkling throngs Of laden camels and their drivers' songs ; — Hinging of arms, and flapping in the breeze Of streamers from ten thousand canopies ; — War-music, bursting out from time to time, With gong and tymbalon's tremendous chime ; — Or, in the pause, when harsher sounds are mute. The mellow breathings of some horn or flute. That far off, broken Ijy the eagle note Of the' Abyssinian trumpet, swell and fluat. \Mio leads this mighty army ? — ask ye •• who? "' And mark ye not those banners of daik hue, The Night and Shadow, over yonder tent ? — Tt is the Caliph's glorious armament. Roused in his Palace by the dread alarms, That hourly came, of the false Prophet's arms. And of his host of infidels, who hurl'd Defiance tierce at Islam and the world, — Though worn \vith Grecian wai-fiire, and behind The veils of his bright Palace calm reclined, 270 Yet brook'd he not sucli blasplicmy sliould stain, Thus iinrcvcngetl, the evening of his reign ; But, liaving sworn upon the Holy Grave To conquer or to pcrisli, once more gave His sliadowy banners proudly to the breeze. And with an army, nursed in victories, Here stands to crush tlic rebels that o'or-run His blest and beauteous Province of the Sun. Ne'er did the march of Mahadi display Such pomp before ; — not ev'n wlicn on his way To IMecca's Temple, when botli land and sea Were spoll'd to feed the Pilgrim's luxui'y ; When round him, mid the burning sands, he saw- Fruits of the North in icy freshness thaw, And cool'd his thirsty lip, beneath the glow Of Mecca's sun, with urns of Persian snow : — Nor e'er did armament more grand than that Pour from the kingdoms of the Caliphat. First, in the van, the Peo|»le of the Hock, On their light mountain steeds, of royal stock : Then, chieftains of Damascus, proud to see The flashing of their swords' rich marquetry ;— Men, from the regions near tJie Volga's mouth, Mi.x'd with the rude, black archers of the South ; And Indian laiiceis, in whiti'-turban'd ranks. From the far Sindk, or Attock's sacred banks, ^Mth dusky legions from the Land of Myrrh, And many a mace-arm'd ^toor ami Mid-sea islander, Nor less in number, though more new and rude In warfare's school, was the vast nudtitude That, fired by zeal, or by ojipression wrong'd, pound the white standai'd of the' impostor tlnongM. 271 Beside his thoupaiKls of Believers — blind, Burning and lieadlong as the Saniiel wind — Many who felt, and more who fear'd to feel The bloody Islamite's converting steel, riock'd to his banner ; — Chiefs of the' Uzbek race, Waving their heron crests with martial grace ; Turkomans, countless as their flocks, led forth From the' aromatic pastures of the North ; Wild warriors of the turquoise hills, — and those AMio dwell beyond the everlasting snows Of Hindoo Kosh, in stormy freedom bred, Their fort the rock, their camp the torrent's bed. But none, of all who own'd the Chief's command, Rush'd to that battle-field with bolder hand, Or sterner hate, than Iran's outlaw'd men, Iler Worshippers of Fire — all panting then For vengeance on the' accursed Saracen ; Vengeance at last for their dear country spurn'd. Her throne usurp'd, and her bright shrines o'er-turn'd. From Yezd's eternal Mansion of the Fire, Where aged saints in dreams of Heav'n expire : From Badku, and those fountains of blue flame That burn into the Caspian, fierce they came. Careless for what or whom the blow was sped. So vengeance triumph'd, and their tyrants bled. Such was the wild and miscellaneous host. That high in air their motley banners tost Ai'ound the Prophet-Chief — all eyes still bent Upon that glittering Veil, where'er it went. That beacon through the battle's stormy flood, That rainbow of the field, whose showers were blood ! 272 'J'wicc hath the sun upon their conflict hvt, Aiul liscii again, and found them grappUng vt'l ; While sti'eanis of carnage, in his noontide hluze. Smoke up to lieav'n — hot as that crimson haze By wliieli tlie prostrate Caravan is awed. In the red Pesert, wlicn the wind's ahroad. " On, Swords of" God ! '" the panting Caliph calls, — '' Thrones for the living — Heav'n for him who falls I " — '■ On, hrave avengers, on," Mokanna cries, '• And Eblis blast the recreant slave that flies I " Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day — They dash — they strive — the Caliph's troops give way I ]\Iokaxxa's self plucks the black Banner down, And now the Orient World's Imperial crown Is just within his grasp — when, hark, that shout ! Some hand hath clieck'd the flying ^Eoslem's rout ; And now they turn, they rally — at their head A warrior, (like those angel youths who led, In glorious panoply of Heav'n's own mail, The Champions of the Faith through Bedeii's vale,) Bold as if gifted with ten thousand lives, Turns on the fierce pursuer's blades, and drives At once the multitudinous torrent ])ack — \Miile hope and courage kindle in bis track : i\jid, at each step, his bloody falchion makes Terrible vistas through which vict'ry breaks I In vain Mokanna, midst the general flight. Stands, like the red moon, on some stormy nighf, Among the fugitive clouds that, hurrying by, Leave only her unshaken in the sky — In vain he yells his desperate curses out, Deals death promiscuously to all about. To foes that charge and coward friends that fly, And seems of all tlic Great Arch-enemy. 273 Tlie jtnnir spreads — *- A iiiirndi' ! " tliron^lioul I'hc Moslem nuiks, •■ a inii-adt.' ! " tlioy shout. All gazing on that youth, whose coming seems A liglit, a glory, such as breaks in dreams ; And ev'ry sword, true cas o'er billows dim Tlio needle tracks the load-star, following him I Right tow'rds Mokanxa now lie cleaves his |iatli Impatient cleaves, as though the bolt of wiath lie hears from Ilcav'n withheld its awful burst From wi'aker beads, and souls but half-way euist. To break o'er Ilini, the mightiest and the worst I But vain his speed — though, in that hour of blood. Had all God's seraphs roimd Mokanxa stood, \\'ith swords of fire, ready like fate to fall. Mokanxa's soul would have defied them all ; Yet now, the rush of fugitives, too strong For liuman force, luniics ev'n him along : In vain he struggles 'mid the wedged ari-ay Of flying thousands — he is borne away ; And the sole joy his battled spirit knows, In this forced flight, is — murd'ring as he goes I As a o-rini tio-er, whom the torrent's miffht Surprises in some pareh'd ravine at night. Turns, ev'n in drowning, on the wretched flocks. Swept with him in that snow-flood from the rocks, An('<(s not tlic lirauty — uli, m^tliiiiL;' like this, That to young Nourmahal gave such magic of bliss I But that loveliness, ever in motion, which plays Tiike the light upon autumn's soft shadowy clays, Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flies From the lip to the cheek, from the cheek to the CA'es ; Now melting in mist and now breaking in gleams, Like the glimpses a saint hath of Pleav'n in his dreams. AVhen pensive, it seem'd as if that very grace, That charm of all others, was born with her face ! And when angry, — for ev'n in the tranquillest climes Light breezes will ruffle the blossoms sometimes — The short, passing anger but seem'd to awaken New beauty, like flow'rs that are sweetest when shaken. If tenderness touch'd her, the dark of her eye At once took a darker, a heav'nlier dye, From the depth of whose shadow, like hoi}' revealings From innermost shrines, came the light of her feelings. Then her mii'th — oh ! 'twas sportive as ever took wing From the heart with a burst, like the wild-bird in spring Illumed by a wit that would fascinate sages. Yet playful as Peris just loosed fi-om their cages. Wliilc her laugh, full of life, without any control But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung fi'om her soul ; And where it most sparkled no glance could discover. In lip, cheek, or eyes, for she brighten'd all over, — Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon, WHien it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun. 28o LOVE AND DEATH. FROM " PARADISE AND THE TERI." KXEATH that firsli ami spriiit;ii)n- howcr. Close by the Lake, she heard the moan Of one Avho, at this silent hour, Had thither stoFii to die alone. One who in life, where'er he moved, Drew after liim the hearts of many ; Yet now, as though he ne'er were loved, Dies here unseen, unwept 1)y any ! None to watch near him — none to slake The fire that in his bosom lies, With ev'n a sprinkle from that lake, \^liich shines so cool before his eyes. No voice, well kno^ii through many a day. To speak the last, the parting word, AMiich, when all other sounds decay. Is still like distant music heard ; — That tender farewell on the shore Of this rude world, when all is o'er, ^^Hiich cheers the spirit, ere its bark Puts off into the unknown Dark. Deserted youth ! one thought alone Shed joy around his soul in death, — That she, whom he for years had known. And loved, and might have call'd Ijis own, Was safe from this foul midnight's breath, — Safe in her father's princely halls, ^Miere the cool airs fi-om fountain foils. Freshly perfumed liy many a lirand Of the sweet wood from India's land. Were pure as she whose brow they fanuM. 280 But soe — who yonder coincs Ity stonltli, Tliis mclniu-holy l>o\v"r to seek, Like a young envoy, .sent by Ilealtli, With rosy gifts upon lier clieeli ? 'Tis she — far oif, through UKJonliglit dini, He knew his own betrothed liridc. She, who would rather die witli liini, Than live to gain the world lieside! — Her arms are round her lover now, His livid cheek to hers she presses. And dips, to bind his burning brow. In the eool lake her loosen'd tresses. Ah ! once, how little did he think An hour would come, when he should slirinl. With horror from that dear embrace. Those gentle arms, that were to him Holy as is the cradling {)lace Of Eden's infant cheruljim ! And now he yields — now turns away, Shudd'ring as if the venom lay All in those proffer'd lips alone — Those lips that, then so fearless grown. Never until that instant came Near his unaskM or without 8hani(\ " Oh ! let me only breathe the air. The blessed air, that's breath'd by thee, And. whether on its Mings it bear Healing or death, 'tis sweet to me I There — drink my tears, while yet they fall- Would that my bosom's blood were balm. And, well thou know'st, I'd shed it all. To give thy brow one minute's calm. Nay, tuin not fioni me that dear face — 287 Am I not tliiuo — thy own loved bride — The one, the chosen one, whose place In life or death is h\ thy side? Thiidv'st thou that .she, whose only light. In this dim world, from thee hath shone, Could Ix'ar the long, the cheerless night, That must be hers when thou art gone ? That I can live, and let thee go, VC\w art my life itself? — No, no — When the stem dies, the leaf that grew Out of its heart must perish too ! Then turn to me, my own love, turn, Before, like thee, I fade and burn ; Cling to these yet cool lips, and share The last pure hfe that lingers there ! '' She fails — she sinks — as dies the lamp In charnel airs, or cavern-damp, So quickly do his baleful sighs Quench all the sweet light of her eyes. One struggle — and his pain is past — Her lover is no longer living ! One kiss the maiden gives, one last, Long kiss, which she expires in giving I 28b THE FEAST OF ROSES. 110 has not licarcl of the ^'ale of CvsHiLEKE, ^N'ith its roses the brightest that earth ever gave, Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their ***** * * * * * , But never yet, by night or day, In dew of spring or summer's ray, Did the sweet "N'alley shine so gay As now it shines — all love and light. Visions by day and feasts by night ! A happier smile illumes each brow, With quicker spread each heart uncloses, And all is ecstasy, — for now The Valley holds its Feast of Koses ; The joyous Time, M'hen pleasm-cs pour Profusely round, and, in their shower. Hearts open, like the Season's l\ose,- — The Flow'ret of a hundred leaves. Expanding while the dew-fall flows. And every leaf its balm receives. 'Twas when the hour of evening came Upon the Lake, serene and cool, AVhen Day had hid his sultry flame Behind the palms of Baeamoule, AVhen maids began to lift their heads, Eefresh'd from their endjroider'd beds, 289 AVhero they liail slept flic sun away, Ami waked to inooiilinlit and to play. All wc>re abroad — the busiest hive On Bkla's hills is loss alive, When saftVon-beds are fidl in flow'i', Tlian liiok'd the \ alley in that liuu)-. A thousand restless torehes play'd Through every grove and island shade ; A thousand sparkling lamps were set On every dome and minaret ; And fields and pathways, far and near. Were lighted by a blaze so clear. That you could see, in wand'ring round. The smallest rose-leaf on tlie ground. Yet did the maids and mati'ons leave Their veils at home, that brilliant eve ; And there were glancing eyes about, And cheeks, that would not dare shine out In open day, but thought they might Look lovely then, because 'twas night. And all were free, and wandering, And all exclaim'd to all they met. That never did the summer bring So gay a Feast of Roses yet ; — The moon had never shed a light So clear as that which blessM them tliere The roses ne'er shone half so bright, Nor they themselves look'd half so fair. Ami what a wilderness of flow'rs ! It seera'd as though fi-om all the bow'rs And fairest fields of all the year, The mingled spoil were scatter'd here. 37 The LalvL', too. Y\kv a garck-ii breathes, With the rieli hiuls that o'er it he. — Ais if a shower of fairy wreatlis Had fah"ii upon it from tlic sky I Ami llicii llif >oiiiu].s of joy. — the heat ( >f talioi.- ami of tlaiUMiii;' (vvt : — 'I'lio miiiarrt-ericr's rhaiint of o-h-e 291 Sung from liis lighted gallery. And answer'd by a ziralect From noiglibouriiig JIaram, wild and sweet; — The merry laughter, echoing From gardens, whore the silken swing \\"afts some delighted girl above The top leaves of the orange grove ; Oi', from those infant groups at i>lay Among the tents that line the way, Flinging, unawcd by slave or mother, Ilandfuls of roses at each other. — Then, the sounds from the Lake, — the low whisp'ring in boats. As the}' shoot through the moonlight ;— the dripping of oars, And the wild, airy warbling that ev'rywhere floats, Through the groves, round the islands, as if all the shores, Like those of Kathay, utter'd music, and gave An answer in song to the kiss of each wave. But the gentlast of all are those sounds, full of feeling, That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing, — Some lover, who knows all the heart-touching power Of a lute and a sigh in this maoical hour. Oh ! best of delights as it ev'rywhere is To be near the loved Onfi, — what a rapture is his Who in moonlight and music thus sweetly may glide O'er the Lake of Cashmerk, with that One by his side ! Tf woman can make the worst wilderness dear. Think, think what a Heav'n she must make of Cashmkre I '29-2 Till". ciiKi'.isirs sTi;()\(;]roT,i). FROM " TIIK FII!E-\VOHSIin'PER> IIKRE stood — Imt one sliort loao-uo awivv I'^iom old IIarmozia's sultry bav — -vJ A I'orky mountain, o'er tlic Soa 'i Of OifAN l)e('tling awfully ; A last and .solitary link Of those stupendous chains that roacli i''rom the broad Cas])ian's reedy brink Down winding to the Green Sea beacli. Around its base the bare roeks stood. lake naked giants, in the flood. As if to guard the Gulf across ; While, on its peak, that braved the sky, A ruiu'd T('ni]il{' tower'd. so high That oft the sleeping albatross Struck the wild ruins with her wing. And from her cloud-rock'd slumbeiing Started — to find man's dwelling thei'o In her own silent fields of air ! lieneath, terrific caverns gave Dark welcome to each stormy wave That dash'd, like midnight revellers, in ; — And such the strange, mysterious din At times throughout those caverns roH'd. — And such the fearful wondei's told Of restless sprites iniprison'd there, 'J'hat bold were Moslem, who would dare. At twilight hour, to steer his skitV Beneath the CJlu^bei's lonely cliff. 293 On tlio Ijind si(K', tlioso tow'r.s siililiiiic, Tliat sccniM alidvc the nias|i dt' 'I'iiiu'. W'l'i^' scvci'd tVoiii tlic Iiauiits of men JK a widi', (l(.'i'|i. and wix.aid ti'li'ii, 8n fatli(Pinl('Ss. so full (if i^ldoni, No eve CDidd pieice the void between : It secni'd a plaei* where Gholes iniiiht conic W itli tlicii' fold banquets tVom tbe tomb. And in its caverns feed unseen. Like distant thunder, from below, The sound of many tori-ents came. Too deep for eye or ear to know 1 f "t were the sea's imprison'd flow, < )r floods of ever-restless flame. Vnv each ravine, each rocky spii-e Of that vast mountain stood on tire ; And, though for ever past the days When God was worshippM in the blaze 'i'hat from its lofty altar shone, — Though fled the priests, the vot'i'ies gone, Still did the mighty flame bnrn on, Throngh chance and change, through good and ill. Like its own God's eternal will, Deep, constant, bright, unquenchaiile I ;s^'^ CALM AFTKR SToKM. i''KOjr "tiik i'ii!iv\voi;sHirri':ns." <>\\ calin. Iniw licnutit'ul (•nines on 'I'hc stilly liniii-. when storms arc o-ojic When wiuriiio- winds luivc died away, And clouds, iicncatli tlic ^lancinn- ray. 295 Melt ott", uiul leave the laiitl ami sea Sleeping in bright tranquillity, — Fresh as if Day again were lioni. Again upon the lap of Morn I — When the light l)lossonis, rudely torn Ami scatterM at the whirlwind's will, ITang floating in the jiure air still. Filling it all with precious halm, In gratitude for this sweet calm ; — xVnd ev'ry drop the thunder-show'rs Have left upon the grass and flow'rs Sparkles, as 'twere that lightning- gem Whose liquid flame is born of them ! A\nien, 'stead of one miehanging breeze, There blow a thousand gentle airs, And eaeh a difl'Vent perfume bears, — As if the loveliest plants and trees Had vassal breezes of their own To watch and wait on them alone. And waft no other breath than theirs : AMien the blue waters rise and fall, In sleepy sunshine mantling all ; And ev"n that swell the tempest leaves Is like the full and silent heaves Of lovers' hearts, when newly blest, Too newly to be quite at rest. THI'] DIRGE OF IIINDA. FHOM " TIIK FIRK-WOUSinrrKHS.'" AR1']\VKLL — t'aivwc'll tip tliec, Au.uiv's (laii, With nought hut the sea-star to light up her tond>. And still, when the merry date-season is hurning. And calls to the palm-groves the young and the old, The liap[)icst there, from their pastime returning At sunset, will weep when thy story is told. The young village-maid, when with flow'rs she dresses Her dark flowing hair for some festival day, AMll think of thy fate till, neglecting her tresses, She mournfully turns from the mirror away. Nor shall Ikan, heloved of her Hero ! forget thee — Thougli tyrants watch over her tears as they start. Close, close hy the side of that Hero she'll set thee. l]ml)ahn"d in the innermost slnine of her heart. L>i>7 Faivwrll — he it ours to ciubt'Uisli thy pillow A\'itli ev'ry thiiii;' beauteous that grows in the deep ; Each flow'r of the rock and each gem of the billow Shall swoetcMi thy bed and illiuiiino thy sleep. Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amber That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept ; With many a shell, in whose liollow-wreatbM clianibei-, A\'e, Peris of Ocean, by moonlight have slept. ^\'e'll dive where the gardens of coral lie darkling. And plant all the rosiest stems at thy head ; ^^'e '11 seek where the sands of the Caspian are sparkling, And gather their gold to strew over thy bed. Farewell — farewell — until Pity's sweet fountain Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave, They'll weep for the Chieftain who died on that mountain, They '11 weep for the Maiden who sleeps in this wave. LOVERS' QUARRELS. LAS I — liow light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love ! Hearts that tlie world in vain had tried, And sorrow but more closeh' tied ; That stood the storm when waves were rough. Yet in a sunny hour fall off, 38 298 Jiike .sliijts that liavc oone down at si-a. When heavoii wa.s all tranquillity ! A something, light as air — a look, A woi'd unkind or wrongly taken — Oh I love, that tempests never shook, A breath, a touch like this hath shaken. And ruder words will soon rush in To s])read the breach that words begin ; And eyes forget the gentle ray They wore in courtship's smiling day ; And voices lose the tone that shed A tenderness round all they said ; 'J'ill fast declining, one by one, The sweetnesses of love are gone, And hearts, so lately mingled, seem Like broken clouds, — or like the stream, That smiling left the mountain's brow As though its waters ne'er could sevei-. Yet, ere it reach the plain below. Breaks into floods, that part for ever. Oh, j-ou, that have the charge of Love, Keep him in rosy bondage bound, As in the Fields of Bliss above He sits, with flow'rets fetter'd round ; — Loose not a tie that round him clings, Nor ever let him use his wings ; For ev'n an hour, a minute's flight Will rob the plumes of half their light. Like that celestial bird, — whose nest Is found beneath far Eastern skies, — Whose wings, though radiant when at rest, Lose all their glorv when he flies ! THE RECONCILIATION OF SELIM AND NOUIIMAHAL HAT evening, (trusting tliat liis soul Might be from haunting love released !))• mirth, by music, and the bowl,) Tlie' Imperial Selim held a feast 300 In his magnificent Slialiniar : — 111 whose Saloons, when the first star ( )f evening o'er the waters trembled, The Valley's loveliest all assembled ; All the bright creatures that, like dreams. Glide thi'ough its foliage, and drink beams Of beauty from its founts and streams ; And all those wand'ring minstrel -maids, Who leave — how can they leave? — the shade Of that dear \'allcy, and are found Singing in gardens of the South Those songs, that ne'er so sweetly sound As from a yoinig Cashmerian's mouth. 'J'here, too, the llaram's inmates smile ; — Maids from the West, with sun-bright hair And from the Garden of the Nile, Delicate as the roses there ; — Daughters of Love fi-om Cyprus' rocks, With Paphian diamonds in their locks ; — Tiight Peri foi-ms, such as they arc (.)n the gold meads of Oandahab ; And they, before whose sleepy eyes, In their own bright Kathaian bow'rs, Sparkle such rainbow butterflies. That they might fancy the rich flow'rs, That round them in the sun lay sighing, I Tad been by magic all set flying. Every thing young, every thing fair From East and West is blushing there. Except — except — oh, Nourmaital ! 1'hou loveliest, dearest of them all, The one whose smile shone out alone, 301 Anialst a world tlu- uiily one ; Whose light, among so many lights, Was like that star on starry nights The seaman singles fi-om the sky, To steer his bark for ever by ! Thou ■vvL'it not there — so Seli.m t bought. And everything seeni'd drear without thee ; But, ah I thou wert, thou wert. — and brouglit Tliy ebanu of song all frosh about tlico. ^lingling unnoticed with a band , Of lutanists from many a land, And veil'd by such a mask as shades The features of young Arab maids, — A mask that leaves but one eye free, To do its best in witchery, — She roved, with beating heart, aiouiid, And waited, trembling, for the minute. AVhen she might try if still the sound Of her loved lute had magic in it. The board was spread with fruits and wine ; With grapes of gold, like those that shine On Casein's hills ; — pomegranates full Of melting sweetness, and the pears And suimiest apples that Caubul In all its thousand gardens bears ; — Plantains, the golden and the green, Malaya's nectar'd mangusteen ; Prunes of Bokhara, and sweet nuts From the far groves of Samarcaxd, And Basra dates, and apricots. Seed of the Sun, from Iran's land : — "With rich conserve of Visna cherries, Of orange flowers, and of those berries 302 That, wild and frosh, the young gazullcs Feed on in Euac's rocky dells. AH these in riehest vases smile, In baskets of" pure santal-wood. And urns of porcelain from that isle Sunk underneath the Indian flood, Whence oft the lucky diver brings Vases to gi'ace the halls of kings. Wines, too, of every clime and hue. Around their liquid lustre threw: Aiuber RosoUi, — the bright dew From vineyards of the Green-Sea gushing And Shlraz wine, that richly ran As if that jewel, large and rare, The ruby for which Kublai-Khax Offer'd a city's wealth, was blushing, Melted within the a'oblets there ! And amply Selim quaffs of each. And seems resolved the flood shall reach Jlis inward heart, — shedding around A genial deluge, as they i*un, That soon shall leave no spot uiuh'own'd. For Love to rest his wings upon. He little knew how well the boy Can float upon a goblet's streams, Lighting them with his smile of joj ; — As bards have seen him in their dreams, Down the blue Ganges lauehino- oHdo o o o Upon a rosy lotus ^n'eath. Catching new lustre from the tide That with his imaii'o shone Iteiienth. 303 ]5iit what are cups, witliuut tlir aid Of song to speed them as they flow ? And see — a levely Georuiaii iiiiiid. AVitli all the lilooni, tlie fresheii'd u'lnw Of her own country maidens' looks. "Wlien warm thev rise from Teflis' bronks :i04 And with an ovo, whoso rostless raj. Full, floating, dark — oh, he, who knows His heai't is weak, of lleav'ii slioidd ]iray To guard liini from such eyes as tlKjsc I — 'With a voluptuous wildncss flings 1 1 or suowy hand across the strings Of a syriuda, and thus sings: — Come hither, eoine hither — hy night and hy day. We linger in pleasui'es that never are gone ; Like the waves of the summer, as one dies away. Another as sweet and as sliining comes on. And the love that is o'ei', in expiring, gives birth To a new one as warm, as unequall'd in bliss ; .Vnd, oh ! if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is this. Here maidens arc sighing, and fragrant their sigh As the flow'r of the Anna just oped by a bee : And precious tlieir tears as that rain from the sky, AVhich turns into pearls as it falls in the sea. ( )h ! thiidc what the kiss and the smile must be woitb When the sigh and the tear arc so perfect in bliss, And own if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is this. Here sparkles the nectar, that, hallow'd by love. Could draw down tliose angels of old from their spher( NMio for wine of this earth left the fountains above, And forgot heav"n"s stars for the eyes we have liere. And, bless'd with the odour our goblet gives forth, ^^llat Spirit the sweets of his Eden would miss? I*'ur, (lb I if there lie an Klysium on earth, ll is this, it is this. 305 The Gooi'o^ian's song was scarcely mute, Wlicn the same measure, sound for sound, Was caught up hj another lute, And so divinely breath'd around, That all stood hush'd and wondering, .Vnd turn VI and look'd into the air, As if they thought to sec the -wing Of IsRAFii,, the Angel, there ; — So pow'rfully on ev'ry soul That new, enchanted measure stole. "While now a voice, sweet as the note Of the charm 'd lute, was heard to float Along its chords, and so entwine Its sounds with theirs, that none knew whetliei' The voice or lute was most divine, So wondrously they went together : — There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, ^^^len two, that are link'd in one heav'nly tie, With heart never changing, and brow never cold, Love on through all ills, and love on till they die I One hour of a passion so sacred is worth Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss ; And, (ill I if there he an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is this. 'Twas not the air, 'twas not the words, But that deep magic in the chords And in the lips, that gave such pow'r As Music knew not till that hour. At once a hundred voices said, " It is the mask'd Arabian maid ! " While Selim, who had felt the strain Deepest of any, and had lain 39 300 Some minutes ra])t, as in a traneo, After tile faii'y sounds were o'er, Too inly toucli'd for utterance. Now motion'il witli liis liand Uir moic : - Fly to the desert, fly with me. Our Arah tents are rude for thee ; But, oh ! the choice what heart can douht. Of tents Avith love, or thrones without ? Our rocks are rough, but, smiling there, The' acacia waves her yellow hair, Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less For flow'riiig in a wilderness. Our sands are bare, but down their slope The silv'ry-footed antelope As gracefully and gaily springs As o'er the marble courts of kings. Then come — thy Arab maid will bo The loved and lone acacia-tree. The antelope, whose feet shall bless With tlicir light sound thy loneliness. Oh ! there are looks and tones that dart An instant sunshine through the heart, — As if the soul that minute caught Some treasure it through life had sought ; As if the very lips and eyes. Predestined to have all our sighs, And never be forgot again, Sparkled and spoke befoi'o us then :m .So uaiiic iliy t^'v'ry glance and tune ^^'ll(.■n tiist vi\ me tliey brcatli'il and .-hone New, as if brought from other spheres, Yet welcome as if loved for years. Then tly with me, — if tliou hast known No other flame, nor falsely thrown .V gem away, that thou hadst sworn Should ever in thy heart be worn. Come, if the love thou hast for me, Is pure and fresh as mine for thee, — Fresh as the fountain under ground, AMien fii'st 'tis by the lapwing found. But if for me thou dost forsake Some other maid, and rudely break Her worshipp'd image from its base, To give to me the ruin'd place ;— Then, fare thee well — I'd rather make My bower upon some icy lake When thawing suns begin to shine, Than trust to love so false as thine I There was a pathos in this lay. That, ev'n without enchantment's art, ^\'ould instantly have found its way Deep into Selim's burning lieart ; But breathing, as it did, a tone To earthly lutes and lips unknown ; With every chord fresh from the touch Of Music's Spirit, — 'twas too much Starting, he dash'd away the cup, — 308 Whicli. all the time of thi.s hweet air, His hand had held, iiiitastcd, up, As if 'twere tixM \>y magic there, — And naming her, so long unnamed, So long unseen, wildly exelaim'd, " O NOITRMAHAL ! ONOURMAHAL I Hadst thou but sinii; this witching strain, I could forget — forgive thee all, And never leave those eyes again." The mask is off" — the charm is wrought — And Selim to his heart has caught, ]u blushes more than ever bright, His NouRMAHAL, his Haram's Light ! '3> J J?^^-^ FlIOM ' THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS.' LILIS. IIEKK was a maid, (if all who move Like visions o'er this orb, most fit To be a bright young angel'.s love, Herself so bright, so exquisite ! The pride, too, of her step, as light Along the' unconscious earth she went, Seem'd that of one, born with a right To walk some heavenlier element, And tread in places where her feet A star at ev'rj step should meet. 'T was not alone that loveliness By which the wilder'd sense is caught — Of lips, whose very breath could bless ; Of pla\-ful blushes, that seem'd nought But luminous escapes of thought ; Of eyes that, when by anger stirr'd. Were fire itself, but, at a word Of tenderness, all soft became As though they could, like the sun's bird. Dissolve away in their own flame — Of form, as pliant as the shoots Of a young tree, in vernal flower ; Yet round and glowing as the fruits, That drop from it in summer's hour ; — 'Twas not alone this loveliness That falls to loveliest women's share, Though, even hero, her form could spare From its own beauty's rich excess Enough to make ev'n them more fair — But 'twas the Mind, outshining clear a 12 Throiii;li lior whole frame — tho soul, still near. To light each charm, yet independent Of what it lighted, as the sun That shines on flowers, would he resplendent Were there no flowers to shine ujton — 'T was this, all this, in one combined — The' unnuinhor'd looks and arts that form The glory of young woman-kind, Taken, in their ]ierfcction, warm, Ere time had oliill'd a single charm. And stamp'd with such a seal of JMind, As gave to heauties, that might he Too sensual else, too unrefined, The impi-ess of Divinity ! THE PRAYER OF LILIS. T was in dreams that first I stole AMth gentle mastery o'er her mind — In that rich twilight of the soul, When reason's beam, half hid lichind '11 11' clouds of sleep, obscurely gilds ]']ach shadowy shape the Fancy builds— 'Twas then, by lli.if > tlic myotic light's sut't ray Grew yufter still, as tliuiigh its ray- Was breath'd from her, 1 heard her say : — " Oh idol of my dreams I whatc'er Thy nature bo — human, divine, Or hut half heav'nly — still to fair, Too heavenly to be ever mine I '• \\'oiiderful Spirit, who dost make Slumber so lovely that it seems No longer life to live awake, Since heaven itself descends in dreams, '• AVhy do I ever lose thee ? why. When on thy realms and thee I gaze, Still drops that veil, which I could die, Oh gladly, but one hour to raise ? " Long ere such miracles as thou And thine came o'er my thoughts, a thirst For light was in this soul, which now Thy looks have into ])assion nursed. " There's notliing bright above, below. In sky — earth — ocean, that this breast Doth not intensely burn to know. And thee, thee, thee, o'er all the rest ! *' Then come, oh Spirit, from behind The curtains of thy radiant home ; If thou wouldst be as angel shrined, Or loved and dasp'd as inoital, come I •• JJriiin' all thy (lazzliiiti' wonders here, Tliat I may. wakiiiii'. kiidw and see ; Or waft me hciico to thy own sphci'e, Thy heaven or — ay, even that with thee ! " Demon or God, who hold'st the hook Of knowledge spread heiieath thine eye, Give me, witli thee, hut one hright look Into its leaves, and let me die ! " By those ethereal wings, whose way Lies through an clement, so fraught "With living Mind, that, as they phay, Their every movement is a thought ! '' By that bright, wreathed lialr, between "Whose sunny clusters the sweet wind Of Paradise so late hath been, And left its fragrant soid lu'liiiid ! " By those impassion'd eyes, that melt Their light into the inmost heart ; Like sunset in the waters, felt As mohen fire through every part — " I do implore thee, oh most bright And worshipp'd Spirit, shine but o'er My waking, wondering eyes this night, This one blest night — I ask no more ! " Exhausted, breathless, as she said Tliesc burning words, her languid head Upon the altar's steps she cast, As if that ])rain -throb were its last — Till, .startled by tlif bifathiii!^-, nigh, Of lips, that echoed hack her sigh, Sudden her brow again she I'aised ; And there, just lighted on the shrine, Beheld me — not as I had blazed Ai'Oimd her, full of light divine. In lier late dreams, but soften'd down Into more mortal grace ; — my crown Of flowers, too radiant for this world. Left hanging on yon starry steep ; My wings shut iiji, like banners furl'd, "When Peace hath put their pomp to sleep ; Or hke autmiinal clouds, that keep Their hghtnings sheath'd, rather than mar The dawning horn' of some young star ; Arid nothing left, but what beseem'd The' accessible, though glorious mate Of mortal woman — whose eyes beam'd Back upon hers, as passionate. ^-^^^-^' ^^ THE DEATH OF LILIS. T was an evening bright and still As ever blush'd on wave or bower, Smiling from heaven, as if nought ill Could happen in so sweet an hour. Say, why did dream so hlcst come o'er me, If, now I wake, 'tis faded, gone? Wlien will my Cherub slilne before me Thus radiant, as in heaven he shone? " Wlien shall I, waking, be allowVl To gaze upon those perfect charms, And clasp thee once, without a cloud, A chill of earth, within these arms? " Oh what a pride to say, this, this Is my own Angel — all divine. And pure, anil dazzling as be is, And fresh from heaven — he's mine, he's mine ! " Think'st thou, were LiLis in thy place, A creature of yon lofty skies, Slie would liave hid one single grace, One glory from hei' lover's eyes? "No, no — tlien, if thou lov'st like me. Shine out, young Spirit, in the blaze Of tliy most ])roud divinity, Noi' think thon'lt wound this mortal craze. 320 " Too long and oft T'vo look'd upon Tlioso ardent eyes, intense ov'n thus — Too near the stars themselves have gone, To fear au^-ht grand or luminous. " Then douht me not — oh, who can say But that this dream may \vt come true, And my hlest spirit drink thy ray. Till it becomes all heavenly too ? " Let me this once but feel the flame Of those spread wings, the very pride Will change my nature, and this frame By the mere touch be deified !" Thus spoke the maid, as one not used To be by earth or heaven refused — As one who knew her influence o'er All creatures, whatsoe'er they were. And, though to heaven she could not soar, At least would bring down heaven to her, ***** ***** How coidd I pause ? how ev'n let fall A word, a whisper that could stir In her proud heart a doubt, that all I brought from heaven belong'd to her ? Slow from her side I rose, M'liile she Arose, too, mutely, tremblingly. But not with fear — all hope, and pride. She waited for the awful boon. Like priestesses, at eventide, Watchins: the rise of the full moon. :V2\ Wliusc light, when iiiu'o ils oilj lialti ^liuiic, "I'will luiuldt'ii lla-in to look ii|1(Mi I Of all my glurics, the bright crown, ^^^uch, when I last from heaven came iLnvii, Was left behind me, in yon star That sliines from out those doiuls afar, — ^^'hcre, relic sad, "tis treasured yet, The dowufallen angel's coronet I — Of all my glories, this alone "N^'as wanting: — but the ilhnniued brow, The sun-bright locks, the eyes that now Had love's spell added to their own, And pour'd a light till then unknown ; — The' unfolded wings, that, in their play, Shed sparkles bright as Alla's throne ; All I could bring of heaven's ai'iay, Of that rich panoply of charms A Cherub moves in, on the day Of his best pomp, I now put on ; And, proud that in her eyes 1 shone Thus gloi'ious, glided to lier arms ; ^^^lich still (though at a sight so splendid. Her dazzled brow liad, instantly, Sunk on her bi'east) were wide extended To clasp the form she durst not see ! Great HeaA'en ! how could thy vengeance light So bitterly on one so bright ? How could the hand, that gave such charms. Blast them again, in love's own arms ? Scarce had I touch'd her shrinking frame AMien — oh most horrible I — I felt That every spark of that pure flame — Pure, while among the stars I dwelt — 41 .">22 Was now, by my tiausgrcssioii, tiiinM Into gross, earthly tire, wliicli burnM, 13iirn'd all it toiich'd, as fast as eye Could follow the fierce, ravening flashes ; Till lluTC — O God, I still ask why Such doom was hers ? — I saw her lie Blackening within my arms to ashes ! Tliat brow, a glory but to see — Those lips, whose touch was what the first Fresh cup of immortality Is to a new-made angel's thirst 1 . Those clasping arms, within whose round — My heart's horizon — the whole bound Of its hope, prospect, heaven was found ! AVliich, even in this dread moment, fond As when they first were round me cast. Loosed not in death the fatal bond. But. burning, held me to the last I THE ANGEL ZARAPH'S STORY. MOXG tlie Spirits, of pure flame. That in the' eternal heavens abide- Circles of light, that from the same Unclouded centre sweeping wide, Carry its beams on every side — Like s|ilu'it's of air tliiit waft aidimd The uiHluIatioiis of ricli soiiiul, Till the far-cirelino- radiance be Diffused int(» iuHiiity I First and immediate near tlu' 'riirono Of Alla, as if most Ids own. The Seraphs stand — this burnino- sign Traced on their banner, '* Love divine ! '' Their rank, their honours, far above Ev'n those to high-browM Cherubs o-iven, Though knowing all ; — so nuioli doth love Transcend all Knowledge, ev'n in heaven ! 'Mong these was Zabaph once — and none E'er felt aiiection's holy fire. Or yearn Vl towards the' Eternal One, AVitli half such longing, deep desire. Love was to his impassion'd soul Kot, as with others, a mere part Of its existence, but the whole — The very life-breath of his heart ! Oft, when from Alla's lifted brow A lustre came, too bright to bear. And all the seraph ranks would bow, To shade thier dazzled sight, nor dare To look upon the' effulgence thei-e — This Spirit's eyes would court the blaze (Such pi'ide he in adoring took). And rather lose, in that one gaze, The power of looking, than not look ! Then, too, when angel voices sung The mercy of their God, and strung Their harps to hail, with welcome sweet. That moment, watch'd for by all eyes, AN'lien some repentant sinners feet 324 First touch'il tlio tlii-osliold of tlio skies, Oh, tlien, how clearly did the voice Of Zaraph ahove all rejoice I Love was in ev'ry buoyant tone — Such love, as only could belong To the blest angels, and alone Could, ev'n from angels, bring such song ! Alas ! that it should e'er have been In heav'n as 'tis too often here, "Where nothing fond or bright is seen, 33ut it hath pain and peril near ; — \\liere right and wrong so close resemble, That what we take for virtue's thrill Is often the first downward tremljle Of the heart's balance unto ill ; "Where TiOve hath not a shrine so pure, So holy, but the serpent. Sin, In moments, ev'n the most secure, Beneath his altar may glide in ! So was it with that Angel — such The cliann, that slo]ied his fall along, From good to ill, from loving much. Too easy lapse, to loving wrong. — Ev'n so that amorous Spirit, l)ound By beauty's spell, where'er 'twas found, From the bright things above the moon Dowu to earth's beaming eyes descended, Till love i\)v the Creator soon In passion for the creature ended. 'Twas first at twilight, on the shore Of the smooth sea, he heard the lute And voice of her he loved steal o'er 1'he silver waters, that lav unite. 325 As loth, bv oven a breath, to stay The pilgTimage of that sweet lay, Wliosc echoes still went on and on. Till lost among the light that shone Far off, beyond the ocean's brim — There, where the rich cascade of day llad, o'er the' horizon's golden rim. Into Elysium roll'd away ! Of God she sung, and of the mild Attendant IMercy, that beside His awful throne for ever smiled, Eeady, with her white hand, to guide His bolts of vengeance to their prey — That she might quench them on the way ! Of Peace — of that Atoning Love, Upon whose star, shining above This twilight world of hope and fear. The weeping c^'es of Faith are fix'd So fond, that with her every tear 1'he light of that love-star is mix'd I — ■ All this she sung, and such a soul Of piety was in that song, That the charm'd Angel, as it stole Tenderly to his ear, along Those lulling waters where he lay, Watching the daylight's dying ray, Thought 'twas a voice from out the wav(». An echo, that some sea-nymph gave To Eden's distant haimony, ireaid faint and sweet beneath the sea! CiJuiekly, Imwcver, to its source, Tracing that music's melting couise, He saw, upon the golden sand Of the sea-shore, a maiden stand, Before -whose feet tlie' e.xpiiiiii;' waves Fliino' their last ofteriiii;- witli a sigh — As. in the East, exhausted slaves Lav down the far-hronght gift, and die — ■ And, while her lute hung hv her, hushM, 327 As if unequal to the tide Of song-, tliat from lier lips still gush'd. She raised, like one beatified, Those eyes, whose light secm'd rather given To be adored than to adore — Such eyes, as may have lookW from heaven, But ne'er were raised to it l)efore ! O liOve, Eeligion, Music — all That's left of Eden upon earth — The only blessings, since tlie fall Of our weak souls, that still recall A trace of their high, glorious birth — How kindred are the dreams you bring ! How Love, though unto earth so prone, Dehghts to take religion's wing, When time or grief hath stain'd his own I How near to Love's beguiling brink, Too oft, entranced Religion lies ! While Music, Music is the link They both still hold by to the skies. The language of their native sphere. Which they had else foi-gotten here. How then could Zaraph fail to feel That moment's witcheries? — one, so fair, Breathing out music, that might steal Heaven from itself, and rapt in prayer That seraphs might be proud to share ! Oh, he did feel it, all too well — With M-armth, that far too dearly cost- — Nor knew he, when at last he fell. To which attraction, to which spell. Love, Music, or Devotion, most His soul in that sweet hour was lost. H2^ Sweet wiis the liour, tliniiL;li dcarlv won, And pure, as auglit of earth eoiild be. For then first did the glorious sun Before religion's altar see Two hearts in wedlock's golden tie Self-pledged, in love to live and die. Idlest union ! hy that Angel wove, And worthy from sueh hands to come ; Safe, sole asylum, in which Love, AN'lien fall'n or exiled from ahove, 111 this dark world can find a home. And though the Spirit had transgress'd — Had, from his station 'mong the blest AVon down by woman's smile, allow'd Terrestrial passion to breathe o'er The mirror of his heart, and cloud God's image, there so briglit before — Yet never did that Power look down On error with a brow so mild ; Never did Justice wear a frown, Through which so gently Mercy smiled. For humble was their love — with awe And trembling like some treasure kejit, That was not theirs by holy law — \Miose beauty with remorse they saw, And o'er whose preciousness they wept. ITumility, that low, sweet root, From which all heavenly virtues shoot. Was in the hearts of both — but most In Kama's heart, by whom alone Those charms for which a heaven was lost, Seem'd all unvalued and unknown ; And when her seraph's eyes she caught. And hid hers o'lowiii!-- on his breast. 829 Even bliss was humljlod liy the tliuiiglit — " What claim have I to ho so hlest? " Still less could iiuiid, so lueek, have nursed Desire of knowledye — that vain thirst, With which the sex hath all heen cursed, From luckless Eve to her, who near The Tabernacle stole to hear The secrets of the angels: no-- To love as her own Seraph loved. With Faith, the same through bliss and woe- Faith, that, were even its light removed. Could, like the dial, fix'd remain. And wait till it shone out again ; — With Patience that, though often bow'd Ej the rude storm, can rise anew ; And Hope that, even fi'om Evil's cloud. Sees sunny Good half breaking through I This deep, relying Love, worth more In heaven than all a Cherub's lore — This Faith, more sure than aught beside, \^"as the sole joy, ambition, pride Of her fond heart — the' unreasoning scope Of all its views, above, l)elow — So true she felt it that to hope, To trust, is happier than to know. And thus in humltleness they trod. Aliasird, but pure before their God ; Kor e'er did earth behold a sight So meekly beautiful as they. When, with the altar's holy light Full on their brows, they knelt to pray, Hand within hand, and side by side. Two links of love, awhile untied From the great chain abdve. but fast 42 330 HuKliiig together to the hist I — Two fallen Splendours, from that tree, Which huds with such eternally, Shaken to earth, yet keeping all 'i'lieir light and freshness in the fall. Their only punishment, (as wrong, lluwover sweet, must hear its hraud.) Their only doom was this — that, long- As the green earth and ocean stand, They both shall wander here — the same, Thruughout all time, in heart and frame — Still looking to that goal sublime, Whose light remote, but sure, they see ; Pilgrims of Love, whose way is Time, Whose home is in Eternity ! Subject, the while, to all the strife True Love encounters in this life — The wishes, hopes, he breathes in vain ; The chill, that turns his warmest sighs To earthly vapour, ere they rise ; The doubt he feeds on, and the pain That in his very sweetness lies : — Still worse, the' illusions that betray His footsteps to their shining brink ; That tempt him, on his desert way Through the bleak world, to bend and drinl Where notliing meets his lips, alas I — 13ut he again must sighing pass On to that far-off home (if jteacc, In which alone his thirst will cease. All this they bear, but, not the less. Have moments rich in happiness — Blest meetings, after many a day ;};;i (.)f widowhood past far away. When the loved face again is seen Close, close, with not a teni' hctwccn — Confidings frank, without control, Pour'd mutually from soul t(» soul ; As free from any fear or douht As is that light from chill or stain, The sun into the stars sheds out. To he hy them shed back again I — That happy minglement of hearts. Where, changed as chymic compounds ar( Eacli with its own existence parts. To find a new one, happit r far I Such are their joys — and, crowning all. That blessed hope of the bright hour. When, happy and no more t(i fall. Their spirits shall, witli tVcshi^n'd jiowcr. Rise up rewarded for their trust lu Him, from whom all goodness sjuings And, shaking off earth's soiling dust From their emancipated wings. A^'ander for ever through those skies Of radiance, where T;ove nevci' dies I In what lone region of the earth These Pilgrims now ma\- roam or dwi'll. God and the Angels, who look forth To watch their steps, alone can tell. But should we. in our wanderings, Meet a young pair, whose beauty wants But the adornment of bright wings. To look like heaven's inhabitants — ^\ ho shiiiL- where'er they tread, and yet .\i'e humble in their earthlv lot. 332 As is the wayside violet. Tliat shines iinseon, aiul were it not For its sweet Itreath would he forgot — Whose hearts, in every thought, are one, Whoso voices utter the same wills — Answering, as Echo doth some tone Of fairy music 'mong the hills, So like itself, we seek in vain Which is the echo, which the strain — Whose piety is love, whose love. Though close as 'twere their souls' embrace, Is not of earth, hut from above — Like two fair mirrors, face to face, Whose light, from one to the' other thrown. Is heaven's reflection, not their own — Should we e'er meet with aught so pure. So perfect licre, we may be sure 'T is Zakaph and his bride we see ; And call young lovers round, to view The pilgrim pair, as they pursue Their pathway towards eternity. '%^!f^ I N 1) v: X. Page A hunter once in that grove reclined 127 A Lottery, a Lottery 190 A temple to Friendship, said Laura, enchanted 152 A wounded Chieftain, lying 142 Alas ! — how light a cause may move 297 All that's bright must fade 99 Alone in crowds to wander on 184 Among the spirits, of pure flame 322 And is there then no earthly place 244 As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow 37 As Love, one simimer eve, was straying 87 As o'er her loom the Lesbian maid 117 As once a Grecian maiden wove 205 As slow our ship her foamy track 52 At mom, beside yon summer sea 228 At night, when all is still around 247 Awake, aiise, thy light is come 203 Being wearj^ of love 130 BeUeve me, if all those endearing young charms 19 Believe me. Lady, when the zephyrs bland 219 Beneath that fresh and springing bower 285 By that Lake, whose gloomy shore 78 By the Feal's wave benighted 63 Come o'er the sea 38 Come, listen to my story, wliile 82 Come hst, while I tell of the heart- woimded Stranger 126 Come, maids and youths, for here we sell 172 Come, play me that simple aLr again . 202 Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer 39 Dear Harp of my Country ! in darkness I found thee 54 Do not say that life is waning 145 Dost thou not hear the silver bell 80 Dost thou remember that place so lonely _ - 108 Down in yon summer vale 260 Drink to her, who long 77 Erin! the tear and the smile in thine eyes 114 Even here, in this region of wonders, I find 246 Faintly as tolls the evening chime 119 Fare thee well, thou lovely one ! 101 Farewell — farewell to thee, Araby's daughter ! 29(> Farewell I — but whenever you welcome the hour 227 Fleetl\' o'er the moonlit snows 213 Flow on, thou shining river 113 Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour 26 From rise of morn till set of sun 75 Gaily sounds the castanet 25 Go, then — 'tis vain to hover 232 I'inje Ihiik : the vesper Ijymii is .stealiiit^ H7 Hark! 'tis the brccz-e of twilight willing; .257 Has sorrow thy yoiinf^ days shaded 258 Haste, Maami, the spring is nigli ^89 Have you not seen tlie timid tear 251 Her last words at parting, liow ciuo 1 forget .' 165 How calm, how beautiful comes on 294 How dear to me the hour when daylight dies 151 How lightly mounts the Muse's wing Ill How sweet the answer Echo makes 146. Hush, hush ! — how well 1-^1 Hymen, late, his love-knots selling 83 I dreamt that, in the Papliian groves 2 I foimd her not — the chamber seem'd 9 r give thee all — I can no more 1 ■!•'' I knew by the smoke, that so gracefully curl'd 67 I know where the winged visions dwell 274 I love a maid, a mystic maid 225 I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining 13 I saw, from j'onder silent cave '3 I saw the moon rise clear 163 I saw thy form in youthful prime 43 I stole along the Howery bank 46 I wish I was by that dim lake 74 I 'd mourn the hopes that leave me 215 I 've a secret to tell thee, but hush ! not here 98 I 've been, oh, sweet daughter 155 If, after all, you still will doubt and fear me 137 If life for me hath joy or light 154 If thou wouldst have me sing and play 197 In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown 70 In vain all the Knights of the Underwald woo'd her 122 Is it not sweet to think, hereafter 112 It came o'er her sleep, like a \oice of those days 117 It was an evening bright and still 31/ It was in dreams that first I stole 312 Lesbia hath a beaming eye 71 Let Erin remember the days of old 49 Let's take this world as some wide scene 166 Light sounds the harp when the combat is over 240 Lightly, Alpine rover 162 Like one who, doom'd o'er distant seas 106 Loud rings the pond'rous ram against the walls 279 Love thee, dearest? love thee ? 161 March ! nor heed those arms that hold thee 157 Mokanna sees the world is his no more 276 My fates had destined me to rove 259 Never mind how the pedagogue proses 8 Night closed around the conqueroi-'s way 54 Nights of music, nights of loving 135 No life is like the mountaineei-'s 124 No, not more welcome the fairy numbers 160 Now nearlj' fled was sunset's light 187 Oft, in the stilly night 93 Oh! Arranmorc. ld Arrannioie 222 Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep ill the sliiulf !« Oh, come to me when daylight sets f<5 Oh, days of youth and joy, long clouded W Oh, do not look so bright and blest lt!7 Oh S doubt me not — the season ;5.") Oh fair ! oh purest ! be thou the dove 'Jii.') Oh 1 had we some bright little isle of oui- own '61 Oh, lost, for ever lost — no more 21 Oh I the days ai-e gone, when Beauty bright Oh, the sight entrancing yi Oh ! think not my spirits are always iis light '20 Thou ! who diy'st the mourner's tear IIG Om- fii-st young love resembles 1:55 Our hearts, my love, were form'd to be 251 Our white sail caught the ev'ning ray 14!) Poor broken tiower ! what art can now recover thee 2J2 Reason, and Fully, and Beauty, they siiy 1^2 Kich and rare were the gems she wore 42 Rose of the Desert ! thou, whose blushing rav 144 Sail on, sail on, thou fearless bark 88 Say, did you not hear a voice of death ? 4 Say, what shall be om- sport to-day ? 237 See you, beneath yon cloud so dark 103 She simg of Love, while o'er her lyre ()4 Should those fond hopes e'er forsake thee 191 Silence is in om- festal halls 238 Sing — sing — Mvisic was given 68 Slumber, oh slumber ; if sleeping thou mak'st 220 So warmly we met and so fondly we parted lOO Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egj-pt's dark sea K48 Spirit of Joy, thy altar lies iy(j Still when daylight o'er the wave 170 Strike the gay harp ! see the moon is on high 66 Sweet Innisfallen, fare thee well ijd Sweet Moon ! if, like Crotona's sage 262 That evening, (trusting that his soul 21)9 The brilliant black eye 1 41 The dance was o'er, yet still in dreams 1 78 The darkness that hung upon Wilhmiberg's walls 56 The dawning of morn, the daylight's sinking 60 The harp that once thraugh Tara's halls 23 The Minstrel Boy to the wai- is gone '49 The more I 've Wew'd this world, the more I 've found 243 The time I've lost in wooing 40 The tuif shall be my fragrant shiine 105 The young May moon is l)eaming-, love I77 Then, fare thee well, my own dear love 223 Then first from Love, in Nature's bow'rs 212 There 's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream 267 There 's a beauty, for ever unchangingly bright 283 There is a bleak Desert, where daylight grows weary 109 There is not in the \vide world a valley so sweet 1 There's something strange, I know not what . . 211 There stood —but one short league away 292 There was a maid, of all who move ... 31 1 I'itiJC They both were Imsh'd, the voice, the chords 175 The\' made her a yrave, too cold and damp IG They may i-ail at this life — from tlie hour I be