Hi II PI li In I THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES . -6. ^z< 1 - -s LAYS OF MELPOMENE. Tu senti, ballatetta, che la morte Mi stringe si, che vita m' abbandona. Guido Cavalcanit, BY SUMNER L. FAIRFIELD. PORTLAND : PRINTED BY TODD AND SMITH. 1824. DISTRICT OF MAUVE, ss. FL s l"R E IT REME MBERED, That on this thirteenth day of 'J JO November, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hun dred and twenty-four, and the forty-ninth year of the Independence of the United States of America, Mr. SUMNEHL. FAIRFIELD, of the District of Maine, has deposited in this Office, the title of a Book the right whereof he claims as Author, in the words following, viz : " LA VS OF MELPOMENE, Tu senti, ballatetta, cne la morte, Mi stringe si, die vita m' abbandona. Guido Cavnlcanti. By Sumner L. Fairfield." In conformity to the Act of theOongressof the United States, entitled "An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned ;" and also, to an act, entitled "An Act supplementary to an act, entitled, an act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the au thors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mention ed, and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving and etching historical and other prints." JOHN MUSSEY, Clerk of the District Court of Maine, A true copy as of record, Attest, J. MUSSEY, Clerk D. C. Maine. Many of the following Poems have al ready appeared in various literary Journals; and such has been their reception that the timidity natural to a young author, ambi tiously seeking fame, is lessened. Anxiety for the fate of his productions is ever pre dominant in a poet's mind ; and, however sanguinely he may create, in moments of high aspiring, an immortality for himself, experience of earthly mutability chills his ardor and superinduces apprehensions fear ful in proportion to his lofty imaginings. But repeated favors from the public miti gate this dread, and supply in its place a deferential confidence alike agreeable to those who impart and him who receives sincere approbation. In writing these Poems it has been my desire to please ; the fulfilment of that desire remains with a public not unconscious of the author's youth and misfortunes. 759422 of SONNET. Lyre of my Love ! for many a lonely hour Thou hast breathed music o'er my sinking mind And I have sought thee, when the world unkind Crushed my fond hopes, in Love's secluded bower. And found thy chords possessed a magic power O'er the dark workings of the soul ; woes bind The Memory unto joys life leaves behind, And Fancy radiates the darkest lower Of stormy being with rich light ; howe'er Rude and unpractised be the hand that strays Thy golden wires among, thy plaintive lays Oft from my soul have banished pain and fear, And I have felt for many a lingering year Of harrowing woe for one so young the days More softly come and go, illumined by rays Brighter than others, when my lyre was near. Thou hast been faithful and I love thee well. Go forth, ye orphan lays ! ye have no guardian spell. AUTUMN. There's beauty in the autumnal sky, And mellow sweetness in the air, But it hath sadness in my eye, And breathes of sorrow and despair; Its softness suits not settled woe, Its richness mocks my poverty, And sunny day's ethereal glow Laughs o'er my dark soul's misery. The requiem song of sighing gale With rustling, lifeless foliage playing; The chilling night wind's saddening wail O'er rock-browed hill and wild heath straying ; The mournful sound of lapsing flood Lamenting desert mead and shore, Rather beseem his solitude Who weeps for all b,e did adore. 1 have long been a wanderer, doomed Life's ills and wrongs and woes to bear, To feel my bosom's loves entombed, To cherish grief and woo despair ! And 1 have been betrayed, oppressed, Belied and mocked in guise so foul, That there dwells not within my breast A hope, nor purpose in my soul. No kindred bosom beats with mine, For I am one the world loves not; No hopes around my being twine, For I am doomed to be forgot ; Oh ! had I perished when a child, Ere high aspirings burned to heaven, Devotions blasted, pleasures foiled, And passions ne'er my heart had riven I I have no friend on this cold earth, No gilded prospect cheers my eye, Despair watched o'er my unwished birth, And woe wept o'er the agony ; My childhood groaned 'neath wrong and ill, AYid I grew sad when others smiled, For ever on joy's rapturing thrill Came sorrows deep and miseries wild. My youth has been a scene of woe, And wandering and reproach, and all That loved me in death's overthow Have passed away beyond recal ; And I am left to suffer here Alone, and feel the keenest throes Of pain unpitied, while no tear Gushes to calm my burning woes. Pale daughter of the dying year ! 1 ever loved thy scenes of death, Thy foliage dropping red and sear, Thy pensive look and nipping breath For thou wert like thy votary son, Fading and dying day by day, And smiling that thy task was done So soon, and life had passed away. When, oh, I trace the path of years And count the pangs my heart hath borne, And number o'er my bosonvs tears, And sighs and groans of grief forlorn, And think of all the dead behind, And what they were in life to me, I feel a" wild delight refined In holding converse thus with thee. 8 Oh, I would change my being high Gladly a withered leaf to be, And float on zephyr's pinions by, A thing unknowing misery ! And when the snows of winter fell I should not feel their icy blight, But slumber in the mountain dell Sweetly the livelong northern night I ne'er could cringe and crouch to guile, Nor thoughts repress that would arise, Nor visor with a villian smile Ice-featured hatred's demon lies; I ne'er could herd with fashion's throng, And whirl away the unmeaning hours, Nor link with base nefarious wrong My spirit's unpolluted powers. And so my mortal life bath passed In loneliness and grief anrj woe, And I have trod an arid waste With measured step, lone, solemn, slow. And seen the viper brood of hate And baseness crawl around my way. And felt my being desolate Lit by misfortune's baleful ray. Oh, dying Autumn ! would with thee I could lie down and sleep fore'er ; Thou would'st not waken misery In the soft springtime of the year By breaking his undreaming sleep Who never loved its brilliant flowers, But often sighed he could not weep When musing of youth's changeful hoar; Cold is the hand that once was prest In passioned rapture to my heart, And colder yet the lovelit breast That felt in all my woes a part : Wild wails the wind o'er many a tomb Which holds full many a dear one bound, And in creation's starless gloom I hear a mournful, dirge-like sound. 'Tis nothing, Autumn, but thy breeze Amid the leafless forest flying, But yet it comes through bending trees Like the last groan of nature d3 7 ing ; And seems, as low the sun sinks down, Like a sweet voice I loved to hear, Though altered now its charming tone To suit the melancholy year. In childhood's hours, a wandering boy Reflective, feeling, sad and wild, I felt it was a glad employ For lonely, visionary child, To rove abroad 'mid hills and woods, And climb the cliff and pluck the flower That flourished -there, and skim the floods, And dare worst danger's utmost power. I little thought at that sweet time My heart would ache 'mid scenes like these, Or that the clear brook's lulling chime Would ever fail my soul to please; But, ah, long time has passed away Since I knew not the world's deep woes, And pleasures past around me play Like spectres round the dead's repose. 10 Since thou, pale widow of the year, Wert here before, strange deeds have been ; Full many a gay heart's quaked with fear, And many a lovely, joyous scene Hath changed to desolation wild; Eyes, that once shone with pleasure's light* Have wept like those of little child, And lost their happy, fairy sight. And many a proud and lordly one Hath knelt beside the robbing tomb, And high-born things have heedless gone With creatures nursed in lowly gloom ; All all, O nature ! die with thee, The high, the low, the sad, the gay, And it were joy, in sooth, to me, If I could die like yon sweet day. THE ISLAND BOWER. Balm-breathing evening's azure eye Its mellow glance o'er nature throws. And, music, melting o'er the sky, Along the vale of Lura flows ; While glory in yon sun-track gleams, Like vision'd hope, rich, faint, and fair, And fanc.y drinks the waning beams, As memory waves her sun-flower hair. The arching cliff looks on the stream, That put Is, and trills, and murmurs by, And silence waits o'er youth's fond dream Of bliss, iie thinks not soon will die ; 11 The tassell'd hill, whose sun-lit brow Returns creation's wavy light, Leans musing o'er the rill below, And sings to hail the vernal night. v O ! Lura's vale is dear to me ! For every scene is lit with eyes That glow 'mid every blossonrd tree With long-lost hour's ethereal dyes ; And, while the star that lovers love Illumines rapture's tear-gemm'd hour, I'll wander through the 1 nde'n grove, And muse in Ellen's Island Bower. The tufted lawn, the bowery way, The arbour's voice, and streamlet's song Are still the same as ere away I roved in exile sad and long ; And I can hear the witch-note still, That breathed the pure soul erst, when love Sung in the breeze, and o'er the hill Danced, while the stars smiled bright above. The woven flowers, whose texturing wreaths Clustered around the home of bliss, Zephyr still harps among and breathe^ Their odours o'er the lover's kiss ; And silken chords with rainbow locks, Still link each lovely blooming flower, While gurgling rills, from shelving rocks Flow softly round the Island Bower, The sighing groves, the star-lit skies, The water's glow, the boatman's oar, The blushing mead with violet eyes, The fragrant wood, and pebbled shore., 12 Yet live the same as in those days When beauty on my young hoart shone s When laughing hope breathed angel lays O'er feeling's lyre from rapture's throne. But youthful throbs of new-born love The expansive heart will ever wring, For seraph transport cannot rove On time's unequal, changeful wing. Oh ! years can quell and quench the fire, That lights affection's holy hour, And all we worship will expire, Like love in Ellen's Island Bower. Once thrilling heart, and beaming eye, Existence, soul, in rapture met, And nature's priest stood in the sky, The signet of our loves to set ; And fanning airs were singing o'er The uijion of enamoured souls, With strains as sweet as angels pour, When virgin's prayer to Eden rolls. Then Housatonic's pale blue stream Sung in the groves of Lura's vale, And radiant eyes were seen to gleam Along the moon-lit flowery dale ; Then soul breathed soul in glowing flood, And bosoms panted fond and true, While Diano'er the islet stood To watch and revel in the view. But fate came on with fury's frown, And envy yelled his fell behest, And beauty sunk in madness down, The victim of a wretch unblest ; 13 The mournful hosts of heaven in tears, Bewailed fair Lura's darling flower ; And, wandering through unhappy years, 1 mourned the ruined Island Bower. How dear to me is Lura's vale ! O ! every spot is full of love ! For Ellen still walks o'er the dale* And whispers in the willow grove. Her sky blue eye still glows with beams Of love, o'er misery's broken heart, And oft a glance, lone wandering gleams, Along despair's convulsing dart. Dark night-shades hover o'er the scene, Like sorrow o'er my bosom's love ; And all the smiles that e'er have been Like spectres round my spirit move ; Oh '. I will linger here and weep The ruin of hope's loveliest flower, And, hushed in sacred silence, keep My sainted Ellen's Island Bower. THE TRAITOR SON.* 'Twas a mournful sound, that trumpet's strain, When its wild notes rung o'er Hebron's plain, For it told of woe and an ingrate son, Of a desolate sire and a child undone. 4 Twas a mournful sight by Kidron's flood, That exile-monarch and father good, Hurrying away fiom his palace home To shun captivity's deathful doom, > Vide the story of David and Absalom. 2 14 With a stranger chief the brave Ittai, To guard him amid disloyal fray While his trembling tread was weak and slow, And his aged head like the mountain snow, And his sighs swelled deep, and his tears fell fast, When the rebel clarion's echoed blast O'er Salem's hills on the wings of wind Came rapid and loud the king behind, As, girt by his friends, in sore distress He fled the way of the wilderness. The traitor-chief in the flush and pride (Giloh's oracle sage by his side,) Of usurped pomp and stolen power, (Acurbe hung o'er that pageant hour,) With his regal train who shout as they come The stale of the death doomed Absalom, Careers to the monarch's empty halls, And wakens the voices of frowning walls With the cries of mirth and the wassail roar Of revel unheard in that dome before, And mounts the throne of his monarch sire, And pollutes his bovvers with fierce desire, While the lonely cry of the centinel Like a malison on his slumbers fell. Look ye to Olivet ! Lord of Earth ! For apostate nature's monster birth, A traitor prince and a murderous child, A monarch roams the desart wild ! Those weary steps and those trickling tears, And those hoary locks, the voice of years, That, waving, sighed as he weeping went Up the hill beneath affliction bent, And those longing looks he downward threw, (Perchance the son of his love was in view,) Oh ! Israel, weep ! what can they declare But a father's love and deep despair? 15 The sun went down o'er Carmel's brow, And nightshades dimm'd the world below, And David fled fast his son before (Was the mother there, that the traitor bore :) And Bahurim around in dimness lay, When the heir of Gera crossed his way, And bann'd the king who had been a shield To his home, his loves, Ins hill and field, And called him lord of Belial race Who had e'er blessed him with kingly grace, Till Ithra's son in his wrath wax'd high, And shook his lance with a fiery eye, And loudly craved his monarch's nod To strike thecurser to the sod, When David turned with a look like heaven, And said to Shemei " thou art forgiven ! " If the son of my love doth seek to kill, " Can Abishai think his curse is ill ? " Let the evil rage on their words are vain, " The curses they wish us they surely will gain." The outcast king to Mahanaim, Weary and sad by morning camo, And found loyal hearts 'mid traitor war Jn the chiefs of Rogelim andLodebar, Who nurtured his frame and pillowed his head, And balmed his heait though it ever bled, For the exile prince was in sore distress While fleeing the way of the wilderness. And there he lay while the Archite great Like Giloh's sage in Judah's state Went to die tented field to mar His deadly counsel in the war; And wisdom's words unheeded fell And earth received Ahithophel. So the armies met in Ephraim's wood, And the battle raged like an ocean flood-i,- 16 For libra's sons and the proud Ittai Led Israel's hosts in the gory fray, And the warrior-chief of Salem's bands Brooked not the sire's hut the king's command?,. And the TRAITOR-SON that morning died In his beauty, glory, hope and pride. " Who comes from afar?" the monarch said, As the watchman looked saw heard the tread Of messenger come like hurricane " Is the young man safe ?" " I saw the plain 11 A sea of tumult, but I know no more !" " My son hath fled and the battle's o'er." The watchman cried to the porter " There " Cometh Cushi like a thing of air !" " He's a good man and his tidings good !" " Peace to my lord !" he said and stood.' " Is the young man safe? how fares the fray ?" " May thy foes be as thy son to day, My lord the king !" That word was death, And the father sunk the king beneath. He went to his chamber and wept alone, And he cried as he wept " my son ! my son !"' A DEATH SCENE. Glimmering amid the shadowy shapes that floa: In sickly Fancy's vision o'er the walls Of Death's lone room, the trembling taper burra Dimly, and guides my fearful eye to trace The wandering track of parting life upon The burning brow and sallow cheek of him Whose smile was paradise to me and mine. The autumnal breeze breathes panthigly anil come: With hollow sighs through yon high window o'er 17 Thy feverish couch, my love ! and seems to sob Amid the waving curtains as 't would tell My heart how desolate it will become When widowed of its blisses and endoomed To bleed and agonize at Memory's tale. The outward air is chill, but, oh, thy breast, My dying love ! is scorching with the fires That centre in thy heart, and thy hot breath Flows sobbingly, like the sirocco gale That heralds death ; and thou art speechless now Save what thy glaring eyes can tell, for life Is parting from thy bosom and the chill Dew of cold dissolution's pangs pours down Thy damp and pallid cheek and silently Evaporates upon thy panting lips. Thy pulse is wild and wandering, and thy frame Is writhing in convulsive agony, And, while thy spirit hovers o'er the verge Of Fate, thou can'st not speak to me nor bid Thy chosen one a long farewell! O Heaven! ' Let thy sweet mercy wait upon his end And life's last struggle close 'tis vain to hope For life then take his soul on gentle wing Away and let the sufferer rest with thee ! Alas ! hath He who rules the universe Replied to my wild wish oh, give me back The parted spirit, kind heaven ! thou seest how I'm left in utter desolation ah ! 'Tis o'er, my love, my happiness, my hope. I sit beside a corse ! How deadly still Is the lone chamber he hath left ! The moan , Of dyinj nature and the bursting sigh Of heart dissolving and the murmuring voice Of a delirious spirit all are hushed! The eye that kindled love in my young heart And told me I was blest, is lustreless And those dear lips, that oft illumed ray sou:. 18 Are stiffening now those features exquisite, On which I often gazed as on a mirror Lit by affection, genius, feeling all That love adores and honor prizes now Collapse in expiration and assume The ashen deadliness of soulless dust. And must it be, my love ! that thou wilt sleep Where I can never watch thy wants and glide Around, thy gentle minister? No more Read voiceless wishes in thy pleading eye And soothingly discharge them ? Art thou gone. Or is it but a dream? O thou dost d we 1.1 Within my heart unchangeably as erst And ever wilt ! I sit beside the Dead (The Dead ! it doth sound awful unto those Whose heaven was earth's frail tabernacle !) all Atone, while round me the false world is bent On pleasure and delight of varying sense. The bright-blue wave of Hudson rolls below My solitary view and harps of joy Fling music o'er its waters and the voice Of gaiety is rising on my ear, Deepening my dark despair and barbing throes Of untold woe with mirth and jubilee. the full consciousness of utter loss ! The single wretchedness of cureless woe When all around ace gay ! The chaos wild Of billowy thought, on whose tumultuous tides Hopes, powers and passions all the elements Of heart and soul in foamy whirlpools toss 'Till whelmed in ruin ! Lovely babe ! thou hast TVo father now, and where, my orphaned child, Will close our wanderings ? I have no home For thee, dove of the storm of Fate I thy path In life is canopied in gloom, and oh ! The fires that light it may be lightning-holts. Cold, voiceless mansion of my ruined love ! Vll close thine eyes and kiss thy blanched lips, 19 And watch beside thee for the livelong night The last, last night I shall behold thy form ! O agony, and they will bury thee ! Will snatch thee from the pillow of my heart, And lay thee in the damp, unpitying tomb! Sleep, my sweet child ! thou knowest not the pain Of the sad bosom that thou slumberest on. Jt is some joy that thou feel'st not the loss Of him who would have worshipped his first-born.. The world is silent round me ; pale the moon Gleams on the closed eye of him who loved Her gentle light in life, and o'er his cold, Expressionless and melancholy face Plays her transparent beam of love. My heart ! Thy bleeding tears would drown my soul, if yet One being lived not in my life to tell How dear he was to me. Farewell, my Jove ! Our slumbers now will be apart how far ! Yet e'en in paradise thou wilt behold Thy earthly love and bend from heaven to shed Immortal hopes o'er nature's funeral urn. A SKETCH. Days, weeks and months passed o'er me and were seen Vanishing eternally with a smile, That formed itself against the spirit's will, So glad was I to feel that burden, Time, Dropping from my pierced heart; for I did live Among, but yet not with the living tears Suppressed within the fountains of the soul, Hardened like crystal rills in cavern-hall, And fell in icy particles upon My burning heart, yet melted not but lay Unmoving there, and chilled each feeling, hope, Desire and aspiration that arose. My being passed 'mid shadows, and the things 20 Familiar once assumed, or unknown fi/m Or appendage, unknown, and to my eye The faces erst beloved appeared like those Imagination images in dreams ; And oft I feared to speak, lest I should be Abandoned to my woe ; and, if I spake, My voice re-echoed round me like the cries Of desperation "mid a dirge. My brain "Was fevered with my dreadful anguish, which Grew by repression, like the camomile, Until it mastered reason, or whate'er Name that observant faculty doth bear Whose power is o'er the visible universe. There was a dread, unmeasured, in my thought, A vague idea of something horrible, Which I dared not examine lest it should Prove real ; and I lived like one in sleep, Forever searching for some lost companion, And wandering in mazes till the eye Refuses to direct, and hope expires. Yet amid all the estranging of my love I still clung to my child ; a mother's heart Retains its deep devotion to her dear And pang-bought offspring, when the woman's tninti Is laid in ruins ; and her bosom burns With love instinctive for an innocent And lovely creature whom her spirit knows Only as something worthy to be loved. Folding the orphan to my heart, I went Abroad the mansion witlessly, and searched Its chambers desolate, and then returned In wildered disappointment that the thing I looked for could no where be found. I sat In the lone winter nights before the dim And melancholy embers, and did hush My breath while listening for the tread of him- Who ever spent his evenings with his lovu 21 In social conrerse ; but he came not, so I sighed and murmured to my prattling babe That he would soon return; but then I thought That he had gone to a far land and left His duties unto me, and that I must Discharge them as became our vow of love. And so I oped his esctitoir and saw His papers, pens and pencils and all things Disposed e'en as he left them, and I felt That 1 could not arrange them otherwise If they were wrong ; his closet then I searched And there his vestments hung familiarly And appositely arrayed ; I returned From such short wanderings sad, and sometimes thought My love had told me he should dwell no more Upon the earth and then my heart did feel As if it floated in a lava sea. Thus passed my strange existence from the day He died until disease my infant laid Upon his suffering couch, and I became His sleepless watcher. Long I sat beside The lovely one, attending all his wants And sick caprices uncomplainingly, Yet all unconscious that he was my son, Till one said he was dying then there flashed Through my dark spirit thoughts of past, and tears Profuse quenched the destroying fire that burned Within my heart and brain ; I backward looked And saw my desolation, and yet felt Happy contrasted with the awful state I had awaked from ; life hath direful ills And woes and sufferings, but the fiercest lie In madness, e'er in dread of heaven and earth. It cannot weep it doth not think, and yet It hath both tears and thoughts, the one of blood, Of pangs the other ; all its feelings coil Like serpents round the heart and sting the core Unceasingly, and all the sweet ideas Of love and friendship round the racked brain twine Like knotted adders, venomous and blind. Pierce, O Thou Holy One '. the heart but spare The spirit! Let thy judgments fall upon The affections, but preserve the immortal soul ! My child was spared me ; and the tale I tell Was gathered from the loved ones who beheld But could not mitigate my woe, and those Impressions I retain of sights and sounds That floated by me in bewilderment. THE PROMENADE. It was the Sabbath's herald eve ; and pained With melancholy musings, srich as hearts Bleeding with sorrow nourish, forth I went To gaze on nature's pensive face and smile Of virgin softness, and I felt the sweet Sense of her loveliness stealing o'er my woes While watching her pure countenance, now veil'd In raoonligbt and her changeful robes of green Azure and silver blended, while she looked Like one who was to me what angels are To paradise the living fount of joy. A diamond star was gemming o'er the waves Of pearl, that danced along the silver wake Of Dian's bark, and it did seem like love Adorning innocence ; while in the midst Of ether hung the rosy isles of bliss, Where spirits, as they do the bests of heaven And warder Zion's towers, commune with each Other delightedly, and tune the songs That soaring souls forever sing above. The thought of meeting my beloved again, Filled all my soul with gladness ; and there came The blended feeling of devoted Jove Struggling with hope's pale spectres, and despair 23 Kindling the incense of its orisons At Eden's altar; and I felt a deep Impress cf confidence of happier days On my wrung heart till sorrow came again. A sea of voices waked me from ray dreams Of holier spheres, and told me of the earth, That held in its cold bosom all rny loves, Save one sweet babe that gilds its buried sire's Image upon his widow's heart ! O Earth ! Cold is the couch thy sons must sleep upon, And dark the chambers of their slumber deep ; I looked around ir.e and the vestal moon Was silvering the %vaters, o'er which scud, Swanlike, many a silent sail bound afar, Perchance, to fathomless eternity ! And dazzling lamps, that seemed in the pale moon Like crime obtruding his unholy light Before rose-beaming virtue, glared above The blushing waters as they laughed in scorn. And in a sea-dome, studded o'er with lights That mocked the diamond, many a voice arose In merriment, well-feigned and many a form Of outward splendor, glided round to find . Something to tell hew happy all must be Who 've wooed and won the pleasures of the world. Like earth's gay hopes, full oft a column rose Of fire far in the azure vault of night, And then it burst and vanished, and loud laughs, Lunatic, echoed far ; but some did watch The glittering fragments till they fell then sighed And I sighed too they told me of my joys I It was no scene for me the sights I saw Were once shared with those eyes that wake no more ; The voices that I heard were all unknown ; The arm I held was not my loved one's oh ! "Tis bitter to compare our passing years ! The Dead! where are they now? The Living! what Are they to tiiose whose hearts are in the tomb ? * * * * * * Slow I returned to my lone room, and kissed My sleeping child, and looked to heaven and wept. THE YANAR. In orient land of wizardry and charms, Spells, spirits and romance, there is a fire Unchangeably eternal, and it burns In undimmed brightness amid mountain snowe That hang white, pure, unmelting o'er the flame, Which (saith the legend) suddenly appeared To the meek prophet whom the princess saved In childhood from his watery couch, and nursed In all the science of the magic land, To warn him of his bondaged nation's wrongs, And light his spirit to supernal deeds. Round that undying flame in beauty bloom Roses in all their pride of fragrancy, Diffusing o'er the flame such rich perfumes As angels only may inhale and live ; And amaranthine flowers in clusters wave Around it ever, while the genii hold Their magic conclave 'mid the alcove there. But, oh, methinks there is an holier fire That burns yet richer incense, and a light Brighter and lovelier than that o'er which Men marvel as a thing beyond their power To solve a widowed heart's immortal love ; A Love, that followed gladly in the path Its idol chose, unquestioning of the good Or ill therein, and went unmurmuring on Through want and weakness, wretchedness and woe. ? 25 Disease and weariness, and feared no wrong Save one's unkindness and reproach ; oft tried Sorely and found unchangeable as truth ; A Love, that wedded pleasure, pride and mirth, And turned in after-days to sadness, gloom, And melancholy poverty with a smile That nothing but his censure could displace. The heart is Love's dear dwelling-place, and there Around his throne pure thoughts and feelings high Embodied spirits stand or kneel in deep Devotion at the shrine of sweet content, Fanning with dewy breath the incense-wreath Of faithful worship, while the sun-beam eye And angel feature of their lord respond To the fond vows of unalloyed delight. The icy look of stranger sympathy The blooming sweetness of young loveliness Tempest and sun-light and the storm and breeze Are all alike to those who feel no hope Of better time or season ; all \vhosejoys Have perished in the wildest wreck of Fate. The inextinguishable lamp of love, That burns within the bosom ceaselessly, Is lighted at the sepulchre of hope, And doth derive its nutriment from pale Misery's tears the portress of the tomb. TO IANTHE. Perchance, desponding maid ! thy plaintive strain. Is echoed by a heart as desolate, And soul as melancholy as thine own. Perchance, should I a shorter life than thine Unfold, it would reveal more dreary scenes Than those thy muse so feelingly portrays ; Fond hopes crushed by the anaconda coil 3 Of envy, treachery, folly and deceit Affections blasted by the breath of scorn Loves murdered on the pillow of repose, Revelling in dreams of holiness, and rapt To ecstasies of passion pure and high ; Deep feelings tortured on the rack of doubt, Till their engendering fibres, broken, warped, Withered and hardened, trembled on the wheel That killed them, like a wretched maiden's thoughts On the unperjured object of her love ! Perchance, thou hast not seen the dew of death Gathering upon the brow of him thou loved'st Most holily, and felt the life, that was Thy heaven, trembling in the unequal pulse Till the heart throbbed no more ! Thou hast not seen, Perchance, the pallid lip striving in vaiu To give the parting spirit speech the eye Upturned to thy inanguished view, and bent In dying fondness on thee, till it lost The light of life and love at once in death ! When the dark tomb holds all we loved below, 'Tis meet to wish us there, that we may blend The ashes that in life were warmed by fires Ethereal mutually ; and that our souls, From earth's thrall freed, might riie together on The worlds they loved to hold converse withal. But, lovely songstress ! (lovely in thy life And poesy alike,) thou hast fond friends Who love thee ardently, and would not lose Thee tearlessly while I, whom thou hast seen Sembling a smile that mocked the lip and eye That wore it, have no tie but grief to bind My spirit to this sphere ; for none would know When I am buried that I e'er had been. How little know we \vl,at we are, and less What our companions arc ! We toil and pain Ourselves to be the things that nature cries We are not ; and we rack our souls in days Of sunny loveliness to find a cloud 27 Where fancying sorrow may complain and sigh. Oh ! if the grief that rends the silent heart In twain, could write in pangs its harrowing tale, 'Twould shame the moody minstrel's morhid strain, And burn the heart that listened to its notes. Such woe is mine, and mine will ever be Till death, for I have proved the world, and find Sickness and sorrow universal here. The wave of Arethusa cannot heal The soaring soul that laves in its bright stream, Nor can Pierian waters cool the heart That burns in feverish anguish. To invest Our woes in fancy's rainbow robes, and clothe Pangs with the spirit's sunlight, is to deck A corse in diamonds, and to lay the dead Upon a bier of gold vain pageantry ! Songstress ! thou can'st not find among thy friends, Though full oft near thee, her whose lonely breast Broods woes too poorly pictured in this strain ; But be it thine to know that a bright fnce May often mask a hopeless heart, and forms So falsely gay as mine be near the tomb. SONNET. Lord of my bosom's love, a last Farewell ! The tears of Time bedew the burning throes Of agony, and maniac pain compose To sadness, that becomes thoughts magic spell ; The musings drear of hopelessness to tell Would tire the gay ; a tale of bitter woes To mirth doth bring alloy, and pleasure's rose Would vanish at the sound of death's deep knell. The hopes, the fancies and the follies all The subtle means employed to brighten life Shall live and be with sweet delusion rife Long ere I throw o'er them their sable pall. Though brightest feelings and most fond desires, Aspirings holiest, delights most pure For few brief moments in the view endure, They glitter, while they be, with magic fires And, like the sea the setting sun beneath, Life loveliest looks wnen sinking into Death. THE ROMAN CATACOMBS. Empire of Death and nation of the Dead ! With trembling awe delightful, tluough thy realm Un warring, lighted by a nickering lamp, Whose quivering flame just trembles on the verge Of darkness, and displays unreal things, I tread in silence, and my spirit feels A luxury of terror, and a diead Sublime in its infinitude, while o'er This peaceful land where man hath learned to dwell In quiet with his fellow, I with step Soundless, wander to muse. 'Tis a dread place For those whose puny spirits quail at death, And his high attributes ! O'er the damp walls Flit shadows spectral, and the startled ear, Tensely attentive, doth create wild sounds, And tomb-like voices, whose strange language spells The daunted heart, and fires the reeling brain To agony ; and on each side there stand The, mighty congregations of the dead ; ]Vot phantoms as their spirits be, but still Things of proportion as they were in life, Though they move not as erst they did, from sense Internal, but are swayed by passing things, And speak in voices not their own ; the forms, Anciently seen upon the Earth, are now Degenerated to that strange state which doth Exist between the living and the things In the world's creed thought dead. Sensations wild 29 And agonizing wake within the heart, At maddening meditation on the fate Mortality involves ; and spirits proud Quail at the glance of him whose chilling touch Freezes both thought and feeling ; but I feel A glory and a majesty, unfelt Before, amid the Empire of the Dead. Here all is peace ; distinctions die with man, And pride and power, and high and low lie down Together like fond twins, and slumber here Forgetful of degree ; the Cardinal And Count with Monk and Peasant sleep, Undreaming of to-morrow's festival Or hierarchal pomp ; no crosiers here, Nor coronets, nor gold cross robes, nor crowns Of triple dominance, the humble garb Of meek dependence mock ; but lordly prince And haughty priest lie side by side with him Who chronicled in memory the high Distinction, that he digged their 'scutcheoned graves. This is the tomb of Nations ; and upon Yon broken statue I will sit me down, And meditate on death ; burn up, my lamp ! No Sun of life lights this vast darkling cave. Methinks there is a mighty power within My spirit, that I feel such glorious thoughts Roll like sun-billows o'er my swelling brain. The World, unthinking things, would call me mad I And reprobate the act whose affluence Of thought e'en Angels would be pioud to own. But, oh, thou Father of my soul ! I bless And worship thue that I'm not like the \vorld. When thy pure Spirit purifies my heart From this life's blots, and liberates my soul From mortal fardels, and doth place me where I may be one of thy own Angel choir, My theme of praise to thee shall ever be 30 That thou didst give to me a soul above The sickening follies of this slaving World. This subterranean mansion ages since Was made to shield the persecuted race Of humble Christian worshippers from rage Of pagan bigotry : and oft, perchance, The solitary follower of Him, Who was the Prince of peace, hath sat alone Where I do now in sadness, listening close For sound of dread discovery, and the first Object that met his wearied eye has been A headless, mangled brother, or a child Rescued from Vultures. Bitter was the bread Of mortal sustenance, but sweet the pain Suffered to those who felt a loftier range Of being in this dungeon than the crowned Despot who reigned o'er Earth-shadowing Rome. The cold clay was their couch the dripping rock Their pillow, and their food the scant supplies Of short occasion or quick passing chance ; And the sweet sympathies of life, the pure Diffusion of fond tenderness and love, The mingling of unwounded feelings, were Few and unlasting ; yet the unfaltering sense Of Godlike piety cheered their hearts And filled their spirits with a strong-winged faithj Which rose to paradise amid the gloom Of their long banishment. Where are they now ? And where their foes, the mighty ones of Rome ? They sleep together in yon glittering piles Of limbs and sculls, and he, who on the rack, Or in the cauldron, or 'mid savage beasts Perished, lies now beside his murderer And links his bony hand with his who plied The torture or the fire, or goaded on The frenzied Lion, fiercest. Senators And Slaves, and Knights and Servitors, and high Dames aod their lowly damsels ; meek and prone'. The wise man and the fool, and friend and foe, The persecutor and the persecuted lie Commingled indivisibly ; and all Who, living, waged eternal warfare fierce Banditti and their victims sleep in peace Beside the mitred lords whose curses poured Unceasingly against them ; their rude wars And bitter feuds, taunts, jeers and scoffings now Are past ; we hear of them as tales of death Befitting only horror's wild romance. And here I sit amid a perished world ; And 'tis, methinks, a better place to dwell Within, than that polluted one they call Land of the living ; for a dead man shows More nature and tine tenderness in look, Action and attitude, than the base herd, Who cannot breathe save in a venomed air. Death purifies the tainted heart, and sheds, Not aromatic fragiance, but a balm Of potency o'er poisoned hearts, and gives Feelings of kindness to degraded souls. The dead lie not ; their speech and intercourse Is silent but 'tis faithful ; no,poor forms And ceremonies chain the bleeding heart In converse with the slumbering sons of clay. Acquaintance long and guarded there is none Ere one can speak a thought or do a deed That chimes with his desire ; and so F love The dead as friends who ever speak the truth ; They give me better counsel than this vain And prating world ; and he, who lives among The buried nations, doth derive his thought Of might and grandeur from those fountains whence Nor ill, nor wrong, nor malice, ever flow. The silent eloquence of this lone place Prepares the bodied spirit, which doth groan And bleed below, for paradise ; 'tis here Man sees and feels the little thing he is. 32 Since the first hour of rising consciousness, And tortured feeling and corroding thought, "When has the period been we did not wish For Death as for a proud deliverer From woes and agonies he never knew ? When has the time existed spirits high Longed not to throw the fardels off of poor Humanity, and live in glorious climes, Fitting their own glorious nature? None But cowards, slaves and villains dread the hand That doth disrobe us of the blood-wet vest, Which saturates our spirits with the gore Of agony ; the wretch who begs for life 1 would contemn as one unfit to live. In such a dome as this the sepulchre Of ages, it were glorious fate to die, Beholding the assembly venerable Of Roman lords and mitred saints, and all The thorn-crowned martyrs smiling that their son, Tired of the pains of time, and wearied out With this world's crimes and miseries, had come To join the council of the hall of Death. Then should we look upon the maddening strife For nothing, which corrodes our bleeding hearts, With due derision ; and contemplate all Our hopes an'l purposes and proud desires, And lofty feelings and aspiring thoughts, And wasted hours and bitter sufferings, As phantoms of a maniac's dream. Alas ! We cannot act ourselves; we are chained down By fashions and by follies, and made dupes Of action artificial; all i. changed. Than this delightful wo- Id, no fairer thing Sprung from the plastic touch of Deity ; Amid the unbounded Unive.se there rolls Creation none mure beautiful ; but, oh I This miiy palace of delightful things A lazaretto has been made by man, 33 Within whose loathsome porticoes and towers Dwell want, disease and wretchedness and crime ; The balmy airs, that once flew fanning o'er Its gardens of delight, and loved to kiss The lovely creatures who, like Peris, roved Around its fragrance breathing bowers, now move Heavily on leaden wings amid the steam Of the wide reeking pestilence ; the songs Of gladness that erst rose to Heaven are changed To wailings of despairing misery. And yet upon this scene of turbulence, And war and sin and rank pollution, still Heaven smiles as wont ; and Angels ope the gemmed Portals of Eden to console this world Of self-inflicted pain, while they change not From what thjy were in Time's young lovely days, Save that they often weep that man should prove The deadliest of foes to his own peace. Night wanes in her dark circuit ; and my lamp Dimly illumines the lone catacomb. And forth I must depart to live again Among the living of the sun-lit Earth. Yet, oh ye mighty dead ! I shall forget Never your counsels ; ye have been to me Wiser and kinder than the breathing race, And oft arnid the volumed lore which doth Survive all time, I've passed both day and night, And gathered ample stores of knowledge pure And alimental, which have been fo me A counterpoise to all my heart hath borne. Farewell, ye dead ! ye once were great, and Time, When he watched o'er the growth and perfect glow Of energies ye once possessed, beheld No mightier things beneath the shadowing sky. But ye are nothing now ; and none can tell Or name or lineage ; so all must 6e, And then be n*>t ; appear and vanish, like The foamy wake, which a fleet sailing bark Leaves murmuring a moment in its path. 34 PASSAIC. Blue Passaic ! o'er thy mirror stream The queen of heaven in beauty flings The pearly light of her silver beam, While the sky-throned spirits from their wings Drop starry gems in the dark blue flood, And pensive Eve sits on the shore, Wooing the embrace of solitude, And watching the dance on heaven's gemm'd floor Of the airy shapes who guard young love, When pure hearts with affection gush, And trill their songs of bliss above, When lip meets lip, and beauty's blush Fires with a brighter flame the breast Of him who breathes the virgin's breath, And feels so purely, fondly blest, He e'en would court the embrace of death ! O Earth ! amid thy cheerless gloom There are sunny spots of bliss supreme, And if, when the lights of love illume Those Edens with joy'-, vosy beam, We could lie down upon the mead, And die beholding Paradise Around, above, within, indeed 'Twere more than heavsn to close our eyes, From which wrung tears so oft have flowed, And perish in that blissful hour When every hope hath been bestowed, And we have drained enjoyment's power. Like music heard in young love's dream, The chiming waves come dancing on, And their spiry cones in the moonlight gleam Like memory's thoughts of the dead and gone ; And the pebbly beach lies sweetly still, Beneath the look of the queen of night, Drinking from music's fount its fill, And shining ^rnid the pale moonlight Like budding hopes in blighted bowers Of soul-lit love, when rapture's eye Hath closed in death, and sorrow's hours Link with a dark eternity ! Blue Passaic ! on thy verdured shore, When the world doth sleep, I sit alone. And the deep blue sky I traverse o'er, To find where all my hopes have gone ; For I once was full of love and glee, And felt delight as others do, And my voice rung loud and merrily, Ere I saw that pleasure was untrue, That the melting glance of a fond blue eye, And the angel smile of a ruby lip, Were as full of guile as witchery, And ottered to all who loved to sip The venom that burns in the heart forever ; The quenchless fire that sears the soul, Whose flame will cease its fury never, But scorch where'er its billows roll. Spirits of night! oh, give me back My innocent hours of boyish mirth, And blot from my heart the lava track My thought hath run o'er this dark earth I My childish spirit hut little way Flowed in its pure and sweet delight, , But, oh, it was a sunlight play Of gleaming waves, forever bright; While now on billows of lightning rides My boundless thought, o'er midnight skies, And my spirit rolls in the fieiy tides With rending groans and wailing cries. My birth star was a meteor-flame, And it wanders and burns fore'er like blood ; Noi hope nor love can its fvry tame, Fo, it dwells in dreadful solitude ; 'Tis fated the pure and the good to kill, And murder the hearts 1 love the best, 36 And its comet fire burns fiercely still O'er every hope of my lonely breast. O, lovely Passaic ! were my heart As cairn and bright as thine azure stream, In nature's love I would bear a pait, And blend with the light my soul's pure beam I But ah, I am one by fate oppressed, The wandering ghost of the haimless child, And my heart hath died within my breast, 1 have so often been beguiled. THE LOVER'S LAMENT. Good night ! the last faint hues of day Blend with the sapphire sea on high, And anguished rapture with that ray Sinks to despair's deep agony. The tinted robes of evening fade O'er the dark welkin's cloudy vest, As Hope's long lingering funeral shade Shrouds the lone bovver of love unblest. The soul-lit rision of delight Is vestured with a heart-wrung tear, And prescient misery's chilling blight Comes from affection's sunny sphere. Night, ebon night, veils every scene Where oft we met and mingled souls Oh, that thy smiles had never been ! My pulse throbs wild, my mad brain rolls. 37 A burst of moonlight feeling gleams O'er my fond heart's magnolia bower, But memory 'mid the bright flowers screams, While Love weeps o'er the parting hour. O'er life's perspective, dim and dun, No gilding rays of orient glow, My soul's gem-star, my fancy's sun, Burns lurid in the vaults of vvoe> Down-winged sylphs no longer dye The pale dead rose of buried love ; The air-wove forms of transport's eye Float not o'er sorrow'* cypress grove. Upon cerulean pinions borne, 'Mid opal waves of spheral light, O'er my dark spirit, lost, forlorn, Comes one dear shade of dead delight. 'Tis more than demons could invent To wreak their deadliest hate in pain, The broken heart's fierce punishment, To gaze on bliss from cells where reign The fiend, whose fangs are fraught with all Love's raptures changed to agony, And that foul hag, whose shriek can call The bitterest woss of misery. Away away ! my boiling blood Maddens my dizzy brain, whene'er I tkink that Envy's hell-born brood Barred me the love of one so dear. 4 38 Relax relent ! thou swelling sail ! Spare me a moment's thought of her ! O, how my senses faint and fail As memory's star-light shades recur. I ask not hours to throb and thrill With sweet remembrance, sad and wild, The sickness of my soul would kill Ere I could dwell on passion foiled. 1 ask but one last murdered look, One glance of that overshadowed spot, Where love his purple pinions shook, Where all I valued was is not ! Thou cliff ! from whose aerial brow My wild eye drank her sylphic form, Oh ! keep the soul-beams on thee now, Through sunny days, and nights of storm ! And hear the wailing tones that swell Above thy cloud-capt, azure height ; They ring a spirit's funeral knell ; They issue from sepulchral iiight. Farewell ! I ne'er shall gaze again On mansion, cliff, or stream, or tree, Where centres bliss, converges pain, And wails the lyre of agony ! A light gleams from yon casement high, And sparkles in my tearful gaze, Oh ! 'tis the lattice meets my eye, Where love threw flowers 'mid rapture's rays And 'tis her hand that waves the light, For me? Ah, no ! fierce madness tells 39 She waits the dalliance fond to-night Of how my bosom pants und swells ! I will not think HI plunge afar Beneath the ocean's booming wave, Where shines nor sun, nor moon, nor star, Where the dead throng, and demons rave- Ere I will speak the hated name Of him who, fiend-like, stole my love ; Hell's banded demons better claim As brothers, and their deeds approve ! But her alas! 1 cannot feel One haughty pulse, one hating thought ; My heart will ever basely kneel Before the shrine my passion wrought ; And I shall stoop to dream of one Who ne'er will think nor care for me, And madly trace, when all undone, The textured toils of destiny. Memory will sit beneath the shade Of sorrow's poison-dropping tree, And, as the forms of misery fade, People with fiends immensity. Oh ! that her lips would breathe a curse O'er every step of life's wild track, That I might ban the universe, And hurl my proud defiance back ! Then I would ride the lightning's wing, And catch the vollied bolts of heaven, 'Mid hurricane in triumph sing, And shout and yell where they had riven. 40 And I would brave their maddest power, Echo their echoes o'er the sky, And in destruction's whelming hour Forget my bosom's agony. But ah ! it will not cannot be ! Time, fate, chance, foe have done their worst! Earth, ocean, air, are nought to me Oh! that my panting heart would burst 1 Who who can bear a rapier smile ? A kiss that dooms the soul to death? Tne anguish of illuding guile ? The nectar upas of the breath? 1 I will bear it fierce and high, Nor stamp my brow with characters Each pitying fool can read, and sigh In grief of scorn for him who bears. Good Night, ye vales, and hills 'so fair! I love to hold converse with you, She claims no parting but despair, Nature still wins a fond Adieu ! THANKSGIVING ODE. When young Time sung in Eden's bower, And angels echoed back his strain, Ere sin mildewed each morning flower Of hope, and pleasure died in pain, Each love-winged thought that rose on high Was man's melodious prayer of praise, And hap,)y hearts threw o'er the sky Blessings, as flowed the sun-waved days, While Heaven benignly smiled and breathed the grateful lays. 41 No seasons, then, by power assigned, Restricted songs of gratitude, For man's pure heart and pious mind Cherished no thoughts but those of good ; But, his high spirit higher soaring, lie knowledge bought, and was unblest; And, when he should have been adoring, Lost Edeu love's abode of rest, And wandered forth o'er earth, an exile sore distrest. There was a jubilee in Heaven, When man to being sprung, and raised His soul iu praise for blessings given, The image of the GOD he praised ; And there are songs of glory swelling O'er Heaven, e'en in these sinning days, When man laments his long-lost dwelling, Yet for earth's joys chants hymns of praise, And sings in Eden's speech, though lost to Eden's ways. For sunny skies and balmy showers, And mellow airs, diffusing health, And bloomy meads and dales of flowers, And fields of beauty rife with wealth, And verdured vales and wooded hills, And Plenty smiling o'er each home, Which rose-lipped Love with odour fills, And sweet Content, who scorns to roam ; For blessings such as these, let glad Thanksgiving come. No pestilence hath stalked abroad, And thrown o'er bliss the funeral pall ; No sword of crime-avenging GOD Hath marred man's toil-won festival; His earthquake voice hath not been heard Amid the cheerful mirth of life ; But his breeze-wafted smile hath stirred Softly the groves with perfume rife, And blessed again the man who flies soul-jarring strife. 4* 42 Pole-Star of Freedom's starry sky ! O Maine ! fair daughter of the North ! Awake thy harp of melody, And, holy Priestess, go thou forth With voice of praise o'er Freedom's land, And bid her happy sons revere The memory of that hallowed band, Who bowed to Heaven in forest drear, And blessed the Almighty One, whose blessing dried each tear. VIGILS. Thou wert, my sister ! sinless love ! Thou art not now ! Alone I wander sadly far from scenes we loved to call our own, And often breathe a sobbing sigh, and shed a bleeding tear, When, mingling with the icy world, I think of blisses dear. Thou wert a sun to light my heart when sadness on it hung, And plaintive, pure, and holy were the songs thy spirit sung ; Thy dove-like bosom throbbed with love, so gentle, deep and fond, That still it dews my burning heart though thou art far beyond The scenes we trod, the groves we loved, and thy lone brother's view, For heaven and earth are linked by love, so feeling and so true. Sweet sainted shade ! how happy had thy brother's pathway been If thy soft smile had cheered his soul in many a gloomy scene ! I But thou art gone, and I am left alone upon the earth, A cloud amid the sunny forms of life but of their worth Or beauty, wit or wisdom, I know nought nor wish to know, They pass, 1 see them not they speak, but know not of my woe. They flaunt along in robes so rich, and talk in tones so gay, And plume their hearts so much on earth poor insects of a day ! That I can feel no love for them, though fair and fond they be, Since thou art gone, and I must go, to far eternity. 43 Oh ! many a year hatli fled afar, since thou wevt'with me, love ! And by my side did'st walk and siug along the eliny grove, And turn thy soft blue eye to mine, and lay thy head upon My love-lit breast and look so fond and now I'm all alone ! The melancholy moon so dim, the attracting orb of woe, I view and think on all thy smiles, thy tears, thy words below, And then it seems so strange that old and soulless forms should be Sepulchral shadows o'er the world, and thou so far from me ! Where art thou, sister, where ? I know they tell us heaven's above, And that it is a holy place the scene of joy and love ; But where, oh ! where is that dear spot in yon celestial sky Thou dvvell'st upon ? O point it out to my long searching eye ! And I will sit the livelong night and gaze upon that p^ace, Where thou dost dwell and sing of love and heaven's ethereal grace; And I will think thou dost behold thy brother's form below, And smil'st upon his gloomy soul, and that will soothe my woe. Can'st thou not tell me how they live, the spirits of the sky, And where we go and what we feel when earthly bodies die ? And wilt thou not, my sister love ! when I am sad and lone, Descend upon my brooding soul and tell me where thou'rt gone ? The air's so pure that comes froT heaven, the skies around so bright^ And all above so holy, it must be of dear delight The mansion, and the place where He ascended to prepare A palace for the wanderer a refuge from despair. And thou art there, in glory, love ! and I in woe am herej And thou dost shed a radiant smile, and I a bitter tear ; But thou art happy, and I feel that while I live below, To think that thou art free from sin, will calm my ceaseless woe ! 44 FAME. To gain a name, and be the tiling the world Mimics and mocks, delights in and deludes, Dooms to despair, and destines for the fane Of fame ; to feel the butterflies of earth Sucking the essence of almighty thought To sate and gorge themselves withal ; to be The vassal camel of a mental waste Toiling for things detestable, who love To goad with gilded lances creatures formed To elevate their honor, and to hear Groans wrung from bleeding hearts : to toil and sigh 'Mid vigils of strained thought, and feel the breath Of waking nature stealing o'er tiie fires Of the hot brain, and hear the morning air Chant matin minstrelsy to hopeless woe, Mocking the spirit's ear ; to look abroad O'er earth and heaven, and weave in sunny web Thoughts pure and delicate, conceptions high, Creations glorious, and fancies rich, Threads spun in paradise and knit and linked 13 3' magic skill of mighty intellect; To think, toil, fancy thus, and yet to know That we but frame an Eden for base worms, Serpents of venom, reptiles foul, and things Beneath all name 'tis vile, oh, very vile ! ****** And then the cold neglect, the stinging scorn. The maddening look ol'pit3 r , and the sneer That calls itself a smile ; the taunting speech That words its malice in fair compliment To aggravate its bitterness ; the eye Whose earth-bent gaze doth seem to scorn and laugh At what the cur I'd lip utters ; the oblique leer Of galling envy, telling standers-by That its approval is the baited barb Which all confiding genius swallows down, To its own ruin ! These arc only part 45 Of what the votary of living fame E'er silently endures! His ocean-thought Commingles with the universe, and rolls In tides sublime along the eternal shore, Its billows swelling amid worlds of light And sounding immortality ! Around Floats music most seraphic, and above Ascend the jetvelled battlements of heaven, Warded by spirits of the sun below Alas ! the cold re-acting waves return Mournfully to earth, and lose their rich Music and brightness in the oozy marsh And slimy pools of folly, vice and sin. THE SPIRIT. The spirit Cannot die ; it must dilate Eteinally, and be a vital part Of everlasting ages knitted close To absolute infinity and linked With the immensity of fate 'tis just It should be deathless, for its plastic powers No limit know nor bound, e'er shining through Creation like the sun ; but, oh, the heart Will prey upon its energies and prove A mountain on its wings, for subtle thought Is but the slave of feeling, and the soul Will languish when the bosom aches and be The vassal of locality, depressed By poor contingencies and habitudes. The desecration is most vile and yet Life's feeble purposes demand the use Of powers almost angelic, for the soul Js like the sun, though stationed in the ekies, 4G It must look down on earth and light alike Things beautiful and loathsome. Be it so ! Shall man be querulous and dare impugn What Deity hath warranted and done ? Spirits of greatness have human form And feature, like the veriest thing that gropes And grovels in base idiocy ; they pass Before the world as other mortal shapes, And though the eye may beam unusually, The brow wear deeper lines of thought intense Than others, and the glow and gloom of hope, The sunlight and the darkness of the soul Vary the changeful feature, and the tread Be more unequal and the outward bearing More plainly intellectual than the step And look of the great mass, yet deeply dwells, Unseen, impalpable, the living beam Of star-eyed light that issued from the sun Of the Divinity ; and, unbeheld By creatures of most ordinary note, Beings pass by in silence or they stand Apart, in general estimation thought Of minor consequence, on vacant air Dwelling or veiling their soul-beaming eyes From things external, that the soul may close The portals of its palace and retire To holy counsel with itself who are More fitting glory and would wear the robes Of angels more to nature than the shapes Mortality has burdened them withal. Such Spirits fill the universe they live In the blue ether and their dwelling-place Is the immensity above ; they sit Upon the thrones of angels in the stars And hold converse with them when gentle nighl The gay earth canopies and nature folds 47 Her moonlight drapery round her and lies down By bright Hyperion's side to bridal sleep. This world of sin they labour to forget And all its crimes and woes, and they become Associates with the blest in pure de&iros And feelings holy ; and they love to tread The verge of paradise though mortal yet, Seeking to know the loves that blossom there, The joys that never fade in those bright fields, Tlie thoughts of bliss expanding ever through The panseless ages of unceasing love. Such spirits find no thoughts reciprocal In earthly beings; none can estimate Their greatness rightly; none can feel the same Dissolving and absorption of all powers In soft elysian visionry they live Alone, star-beams round the sun-throne of GOD ! The sovereign eagle ever dwells alone In solitary majesty, and waves His mighty wings in air unbreathed by thing Of lowlier nature ; and the lion walks The wilderness companionless, and holds No converse with the creatures that surround His monarch pathway ; so the angel soul, The seraph spirit lives in loneliness Proud and unbending, and its solitude Becomes its empire where it reigns fore'er In might and majesty. But when 't is chained Down in the world's cold dungeon, and is mocked By gazing folly and unholy guile, And taunted by the reptile hordes around, Madness springs up within the brain and flares In deadly fury from the eye and whelms The spirit probtrate which could be subdued Only by its own potent strength ; the high Aspiring intellect doth spurn the poor Malice of insect nothingness and live* Or dies only because it wills it so. The boundless universe with all its worlds Of stars and suns is but a narrow path For the imaiortal spirit ; one bright glance Of the soul's eye pervades all space and flies Beyond the farthest reckoning of the sage Who reads the heavens; the winged thought sublime Wanders unresting through creation's worlds And searches all their glorious beauties, till Yet unsatisfied, it would rove through realms E'en angels know not of, when some keen pang, Overwhelming want or weakness murders thought, And brings the almighty spirit down to earth, And all its chilling woe and bitterness. THE DEATH OF TIME. There was delight among the unconscious sons Of Ea< th when dew-lipped Eve upon the sky In virgin brauty stood and bade adieu To the Sun-Spirit as his crimson wings In the far distance waved like gossamer ; And there was gladness in the look she threw Into the blue infinitude to watch The latest beam of day; and, when she turned Her twilight glance upon this world, and spread Her dusk}' veil o'er nature, there was love In her ethereal attitude, and joy, That had its being in sweet innocence, Illumed her melting features winningly. But Earth's gay habitarts beheld the beams Of Uriel's eye slow fading, and the soft Dimness of eve condensing into night, With feelings unallied to holiness 49 Or breathing of the pure serenity, That flowed from all things ; on false pleasures bent Of sense, they waited but the closing night To veil their gaiety and mirth and crime. But Night, at man's unholy madness wroth, And startled at his wassailry, arose From her dark couch and shrieked so fearfully To heaven that angels on each other gazed In deep astonishment, for sinners chained In helJ ne'er framed aery so piercing; looks Of doubt and trouble passed ere tortured Night Creation's guardians saw; but then she raised Her thousand voices and invoked the Lord Of All that Time might be no more ! A voice From heaven's eternal throne of light came fortli And angels echoed "Time shall be no more I" Then portent stillness stretched her leaden wings Immovably o'er earth and nature slept In deathful slumbers, save a startling moan Involuntary ever and anon, When the lascivious song of godless mirth And the loud shout of revel rose and went Forth, the dread witnesses of sin and crime. The stars looked down and wept, and whispers stole Along the firmament from each to each, Communicating doom, while man's seared eye, From which the spirit had retired in shame, Read nought but peacefulness and pardon full For all his vileness in the arching sky. Morn leapt upon the mountains, but the light Was gory crimson, and the lurid vault Seemed panting while the day-break ahs went by, No lyric voice was heard ; the loveliest birds By pairs sat mutely on the trees, nor moved Though the green leaves, all crumbled into dust, Dropped o'er them rapidly ; the wondering herds Wandered unresting e'er the ground and roared With pain, for the hot earth by inward fires Was fast consuming ; the fell reptiles hissed Distractingly and thrust their venoined fangs Against their rocky dens till their last joy, The woe of man, was gone, and their fierce pain Augmented by the act that meant relief; The finny clans of ocean rose and spread Upon its surface to escape the steam Of its wide boiling billows, and the loud Flapping of tortured bodies numberless Frothed o'er the waters for a thousand leagues. All nature was in agony rsave man ! He slept amid the wailings and the shrieks Qf things to whom eternity was nothing. What sound will tfake the sleeper ? Hark! 'tis nought. 'Mid volumes of dark vapour rose the Sun Affnghtingly effulgent, and his glare Changed the dun concave to a sea of blood. The World reeled to and fro and things of life Gasped sobbingly for breath in the thick air. Beneath day's baleful gleam rocks melted down And mountains into lava seas woods felt And crumbled instantly to earth fierce flames Drank up the hissing streams and the hot ground Rung with a hollow moan. Where where was man? Slumbering! What sound will wake the sleeper? Hark! Creation, wake ! it is the knell of Time ! Attend his burial in Eternity ! There sounds the Archangel's clarion ! The skies Roll rapidly away ; the Sun hath gone Down the abyss of chaos; demons throng' The gulf o'er which the world reels fearfully. That fiendish laugh, oh, hear it ! See ! the Earth, The very dying Earth doth rise and shriek As trembling with the dread that hell hath ta'en Possession of her beautiful domains. Darkness becomes material, and throngs 51 Of waking wretches grasp its stinging folds With the tenacity of utter woe, And, though their hearts are bursting, still they cling 'Till their frames mingle with the hell-fold night And they are changed to demons ! Light as pure As Him from whom it issues burns above, And songs of glory echo yells of pain. With one deep, hollow, rending groan the Earth Dissolved and fell in fiery particles Through the dense darkness of chaotic worlds; And 'mid the horror-palsied multitudes The fiends passed with infernal laughter while Unutterable thoughts of bitter woe Thronged many a burning brain and quivering lips Strove vainly words of prayer to frame and tongue?, Erst eloquent coadjutors of thought, Hung agonizing d"own till they became Serpents, and fastened on each passer-by Convulsively, and desperate bands there stood Close woven to each other's agony, Yet every moment aggravating pain General by private instances of spite. Time hurried to a resting-place to die, And as he hastened on, prepared to leave His mission; Death's keen scythe he downward threw, And, flashing in hell's fires, its piercing edge Was ever o'er the suffering sinners' heads, Menacing vengeance yet protracting dread ; The glass, that numbered hours, now poured its sands By centuries and 'mid a meteor's glare Above, he hung it awfully distinct To eyes that wept their owners' bosom blood, And, when they asked the close of their fierce pain, A. vivid flame flashed upward and displayed ETERNITY ! Then Time fell down and died. But as he fell, amid the awful scenes Of horror and despair, I saw two forms Beautiful celestially bend o'er the verge Of billowy chaos with a look of woe 52 And agony, and then in fond embrace Rise upward joyously ; a deadly moan Went through the universe as fleet they fled, For they were Love and Innocence ! EVENING. The crimson waves of undulating light Are blending with the azure sea of Heaven, In the sublimity of beauty, while The softest, sweetest, balmiest breath of eve Fans fleecy clouds with fragrance as along The sky's blue arch they sail, like angel wings O'er Lebanon and Olivet ; and far In the cerulean ether soar the birds Of heaven in joyance such as if they felt The all-pervading holiness, and knew The Deity who rules the universe. The whispering breeze amid the twinkling leaves, That dance to Zephyr's song, speaks gently sweet In answer to the voice of waters far Warbling along their pebbled path, beneath The purpling light, which shadows out the trees, And hills, and rocks, so mirror-like, that eye Of wandering solitary could trace the form, Being and nature of each object there. The mountain's brow is crowned with glory wreaths Of purest radiance circle every tree, And shrub, and low bush there ; while far below In the rock-barred ravine, no lonely ray Wanders amid the gloom. The scene is like The sun-browed thought of rapture, soaring high In intellectual majesty, and full Of holiest emotions, while it wings its flight through realms empyreal, and then' Drooping and falling lifeless on the dark, 53 Unholy, false and melancholy earth. Hills feathered with their shrubbery redolent, And cliffs with moss and lichens robed, and boughs Of loftiest trees adorned with blushing flowers, Jasmines, lianas and all woodland vines, High precipices, rough and bare as when The rocking earthquake left them ail are shown In mimic beauty, like reality, Upon the mirror by which nature decks Her lovely form yon little sleeping lake. The latest beam of evening slumbers now Upon the crystal waters, and I see A world within the azure depth, so pure, So full of happy peacefulness, I long To plunge and seek out pleasure there, and dwell In that sweet home of waters, ever mid The best of friends woods, rocks and silver waves, Whose speaking silence innocently tells All I can feel of pure beatitude. But woe loves loveliest things, and I might find Sorrow there even, were it as it seems, And not a mockery as 'tis ! The soft, Love-breathing vesper breeze plays o'er the smooth Expanse delightfully, and curls and crisps And crinkles the blue waves, while autumn dew Wets the green leaves that have o'ercanopied The lake the live-long day, untouched by drop Of its serenest waters oh, how sweet Is nature's quietude! the lulling lapse Of purling brook through vales of verdure rich, And generous of their richness, and the sound Most musical of down-winged winds, are songs Of gladness she doth ever raise to Heaven. In gratitude of still devotion; all Her votaries are fond of gentle thoughts, And pure desires, and high imaginings, And noblest aspirations, seeking out A dwelling far from turbulence and strife, And noise, and folly, and corrupting sin. Nature doth teach her lessons in a tongue S* 54 All can enjoy ; and what she teaches norre Of saints and sages past could imitate. There is a pure divinity, unwarped By damning creed or dogma stern, in all Her sacred teachinss, and a holy voice Of loftiest wisdom rises from the depth Of her most silent solitude to teach And counsel her infatuated sons, In everlast'fng faithfulness 'twere well Man weened and recked of her advisings more. .Wight's star-winged angels in the firmament Are setting watch, and hastily they come Forth in the blup concave, like the fond hopes Of young desire o'er the unwounded heart. Faintly the dying light of day illumes The western horizon, and shadows flit O'er grove and dale and stream and hill alike, For every object here is beautiful, And worthy such rich robes of light and shade. Oh, that each scene yon everlasting sun Lightens, were worthy his celestial beams! On' feudal towers and castles, where the groans Of death and bondage worse than death have rung' Through dungeon vaults, till every echoed tread, For centuries, awoke despairing cries, And voices of wild agony ; on mosque, Whose shrine's deep font is filled with blood for rite Baptismal, and where muftis tell of joys Sensual and hellish, as pure delights Of after-being in man's paradise ; On palaces of pomp and crime, and huts, Whose inmates gnaw a crust, and bless the hand That gave it ; on despair and hope, delight And anguish, tumult, peace, and purposes Of noblest pride and meannesses most vile; On all things dreadful, sweet, detestable, Beautiful and loathsome, thy beams alike Shine, fire-robed lord of heaven ! and if from the* 55 Alone man images thy Maker, how Impartially beneficent he is! The faintest blushing of departed day Hath gone, and russet mantled night glides o'er The eternal hills, as softly as the young Mother trips round the cradle of her child. Oh, that I could divest myself of life Corporeal, and leaving this poor load Of clay to mingle with its kindred earth, Imbibe an elemental being live In the blue ether and float joyously Through realms of upper air and feast my soul On sun-beams t It were godlike fate to dwell Amid the unbounded universe and be A star or moon-beam, on which angels light In their ethereal wanderings, and chant Empyreal songs. The infinite desire Of such celestial fate doth swell my heart, And amplify my spirit to the embrace Of thoughts immeasurable feelings so Tremblingly glorious, I would not pause For one farewell if I could rise and be The merest part of those most holy beams Whose radiance now gleams o'er another sphere. Alas! the bitter, false, ungrateful world Doth class me with her multitudes ; and 'mid The sinning and the sorrowing, the vile, The mean, the wretched, and the grovelling, still Must be my dwelling-place. I loathe and hate, Avoid and dread the stinging viper brood That crawl around ; and were I one like them, I would seek out a midnight den to hide My person from the sun. O mother Earth ! Beautiful daughter of the Spirit-Sire ! Thou wert a paradise, till man, the fiend, Changed thee to hell by his all-nameless deeds. 56 THE DREAM. Upon the rainbow's prismy pinions, When soul was young and airy, And dancing o'er the pale-blue sky, A wild-tressed little Fairy, In azure robes bedecked with gold, Came smiling on my eye, And breathing o'er my lovelit heart The odours of the sky. Around her thronged aerial shapes, On her wild eye-beam sailing, And other forms in sapphic notes Among the Pleiads hailing, While wavy music, floating far, Embalmed each hallowed feeling, And the heart's voice in thrilling notes On the soul's ear was stealing. Rapture behind the Fairy stood, And rolled his sun-beam eye, And, as he swept his angel lyre, The everlasting sky Its golden waves of ether threw Along his swelling brow, And heavenly choirs their music poured Enchantingly below. Soft Pleasure twined the Fairy's locks Around her silver wires, And Echo languished meltingly, While all the fond desires Came dancing from the palmy isles Of rich Hesperides, To wanton in the amber waves Of music's sounding seas. The Fairy sat on rainbow throne, Amid her lovely train, And as I, spell-bound, gazed on high. 1 heard a seraph strain ; It bore my spirit on its wing To realms by man unseen, And paradise enraptured lay Heaven's pillared fanes between. 'Twas Psyche's song, the Fairy's voice, And Eden's angel lyre, And every holy strain it tuned Did thrilling love inspire ; Transparent on full many a brow The mighty spirit shone, And rapt Devotion bowed and knelt Before the rainbow throne. The strain was past another rose, But trembling, trilling, low ; Its notes seemed deep, but unexprest, And sweet but full of woe ; 'Twas Eden's lyre I heard, but touched By Doubt's distrusting hand, And tears were shed and sorrow reigned 'Mid all the astonished band. The music then came mournfully, Like panting evening breeze, And light shone forth like moon beams waij Amid lone willow trees, And hearts dissolved in pity's tears At Grief's regretful strain, While star-winged angels bent from heaven, And sadly sung again. . My melting eye in sorrow's dew Lost vision for a time, But, when I raised its look again, A Shape in gloom sublime Was scattering wide the rainbow throne, And stamping on the lyre, And darting from his meteor eye A wild and wasting fire. A sable host with eyes of guilt Pursued his desert way, And lightning flared and thunder crashed, But, fiercer still than they, Despair went on in fiery gloom Through realms once fair afar, And Hope, the Fairy's shrieks were heard Amid the ruthless war. The sunbow bright I stood upon In othcv distant sphere Dissolved and midnight's fading dream Disclosed no cause of fear ; But yet, methought, the spirit's lyre Will echo music only Unto the spirit's magic touch Ere sorrow leaves it lonely. ADIO. Farewell ! the Hope that led me on Was sorrow's orphan child, And thou may'st think, when I am gone, That, though my love was wild, I did but seek a home for one To whom Despair was brother, And prayed that thou would'st kindness OWB Since he desired no other, 59 But them didst kiss the wandering child, AnrI fold iiim to thy he;i'-t, And, whuii of -il' IMS sweets beguiled, Thou bad'si the boy depart ; Oh ! liadst thou never, never smiled Upon his vows of love, His life away had not been whiled 'Mid passion's dreamy grove. Young Hope had lived in orphanage His childhood's wandering hours, But he for fair creation's page Had culled celestial flowers; And, than the scenes that did engage His earlier thought, his mind Was purer at his infant age, More gentle and refined. Farewell ! Young Hope his mournful tale Hath eloquently told thee, And thou hast heard his requiem wail From those who madly sold thee ; 'Tis long, since died the orphan pale, And he hath gone forever, But he charged Love when life did fail " Forsake her not no, never !" MIDNIGHT. To sit beneath the moon's translucent beam, And drink her light with melancholy eye ; To hear the music of the bubblins: stream, And read the star-lit volumes of the sky ; To muse on blighted loves and hopes gone by, E'en as the moonlight shadows flit away, And wander o'er the land of memory, And count the pangs of each succeeding day Alas ! the tale is sad more sad the picturing lay. But 'tis the hour of retrospective thought, When all the past before us lives again ; And loves and pleasures with contentment bought Return upon us like the shapes of pain ; And Hope's gay song and Fancy's syren strain Come with a requiem echo on the soul ; And dead desires, a shadowy, spectral train, The pang-writ record of their fate unroll, And agonize the heart that owned their wild control. The pale, pure moon looks innocently down Upon this warring world, with such a smile Of soft derision as her eye may own ; And, as she passes many a starry isle, Pauses to weep at deeds that do defile The lovely earth, and change its young delights To agonies and angels sigh the while That man doth desecrate those glorious nights, When heaven's gem-studded arch refracts seraphic lights, The silver stream of Dian's pearly rays Flows o'er this world of crime and sin and war, As erst it did in young creation's days, Ere fiend-like pnssion could the beauty mar Of thought and feeling, and each lovely star Gilds smiling scenes of love and loveliness With the same diamond beams as when from far It looked on Eden, and the soft caress Of innocence beheld its holy joys express. The world is beautiful ; the azure arch Is paved with gems for angels' gliding tread, And. when their starry plumes wave back in march, Delicious music, through the concave spread, Floats round the sleeper's softly pillowed head, And dreams of glory o'er his spirit throws; And lovely nature, by devotion led, Like Iran's nightingale beside the rose, On young, untainted spirits holiness be&tovvs. 61 Holy, delightful and unchanging, Heaven, On sin and sorrow and vicissitude Gazes with grief and pity that 'tis given Man the strange will of his own studied good To be the foe, and kill in sullen mood The rosy hopes that cost him pain to rear ; And white-haired time, while wrath doth deeply brood O'er wrong and its atonement, smiles to hear The deep-laid schemes of hate, whose fruit cannot appear, But 'tis the nature of aspiring man To mourn, to sigh, and word in maddened speech His wrongs and sorrows ; what his pride began His hate will finish; what his passions teach His deeds will reverence, till beyond the reach Of rivalry his spirit soars and bears Its honors o'er his fellows ; each from each Of mortal kind his loves, desires and fears Borrows and 'tis not strange the debt is paid in tears. The varied brilliance of the chequered beams Falling on stream, grove, rock, and mountain dell, Are like the spirit's momentary gleams Of holy loveliness when upward swell Feelings too raptured their delight to tell, And loves too sweet their sweetness to unfold, That dwell a moment when the night of hell Comes o'er their beauty, and the shuddering cold Of anguish unrepressed chills hopes too soon unrolled. The moonlight radiance of the sapphire sky Engenders shadows o'er the dark-robed earth, As the bright gleamings of hope's diamond eye Throw shades o'er all the phantoms of her birth ; The undying light of undissembling worth Derives its beauty from the darkness drear It round illumines; and man wanders forth Alone, the hermit of a desert sphere, To read the flitting lights and shadows that appear - 62 What is philosophy but abstract thought On never-ending sin and woe and crime, Meting by method all the sorrows bought By wearying years., and classifying time In portions of despair ? Howe'er sublime Its contemplations are, disease and want And grief in generation each and clime The nutriment on which it banquets grant, And serve to elevate the soul they erst did daunt. The world is full of wretchedness, and while The moralizing man doth weep and sigh At sin's foul leprosy, a sneering smile Curls the proud lip and flashes from the eye Of him who cries that none can ever die Save unto ploasure; that the spirit rose From dust and thither will return ; on high Clouds only roll we make and nurse our woes And death brings dreamless sleep, and deep, unwaked repose. The argent moon-ray, darting through the dense Cloud of green foliage in yon ravine Of darkness, doth not to the view dispense More sombre hues, than mortal mind, I ween, Throws o'er of moral life each changeful scene ; Nor doth the struggling, fluctuating light More darkly bright the dripping cliffs between Appear, than dying hopes of poor delight Glimmering amid the shades of sorrow's roomless night. Alone beneath the starry eyes of Heaven I sit upon the cold rock's moonlit brow, For while soft slumbers to the world are given, Unpitying gfief will none to me allow ; The rushing rill's unceasing lapse and ftow, The twinkling forest where night zephyr sings, Beseem the voiceless solitude of woe ; And thought that maddens, and despair that wrings, Can find relief alone beside tjie woodland springs. 63 MUSINGS. The youthful heart is heir to wealth That years can never tell; The youthful soul does deeds by stealth That might in triumph swell The thought that tunes a generous mind Oft dies upon the wing, And bosoms feeling, fond and kind, Writhe oft 'neath torture's sting. Gay hope, the night-fire of the brain, Allures the heart to woe With beams, that pleasure lends to pain This faithless world to show; And we are sped on life's lone way By gilded goading spears, While flitting fancy's meteor ray Emblazons misery's tears. The deepest woes we feel below, The wildest throes of pain, From our own fond illusions flow, When sanguine passions reign ; For guileful flattery soothes the heart That malice turns to sting, And love, full oft, o'er ruin's dart Its vermeil veil will fling. Anticipations ever glow In self-delusion's light, While sorrow's tear and misery's throe Sublime the heart's delight; As silver clouds in fleecy wreaths A summer sunbeam shade, When breezy music softly breathes Along the waving glade. 64 Undimmed by time, the youthful eye Sheds tears unchilled by all Those wayward feuds, that burst the tie Of love when envies call, And in the rudely tilting world Engender woe and strife, When friendship from his seat is hurled t And pride companions life. Darkness, disease and doubt will blight The fairest dreams of bliss, And rapture plunge, in sorrow's night, To agony's abyss ; The fairy frost-work of an hour Decays in misery's flame, And false and vain are pomp and powery A,nd fleeting as a name. A REVERIE. Mora wakes upon the mountain hergh And dim and duskily along The woodland dale glides pensive night, Listening to nature's matin song ; Her russet robes and tresses dark ' Far floating o'er the pale-blue sky, While arrow-like, the wild-wing'd lark Fans heaven with joyous minstrelsy. * But why wakes man with drooping eye, And burning brow, and heart of gloom * Why comes no soothing melody From his dark spirit's breathing tomb ? The bursting sigh, the pallid cheek, 65 The quivering voice, and look of care, An unblest soul too loudly speak, A heart enthroned by grim despair. Morn's glories bring no joy to him, Eve's vermil beauties fade unseen, His hopes are gone, his eye is dim, The present pictures what has been; Life is a dream of wretchedness, The world a prison barr'd by woe, The earth a grave where myriads press, And heaven a place that none can know. Starting from visions, whose false light, Like fire-flies round a cataract, Deludes the wretch to endless night, He hurries forth to feel the rack Of ductile malice, and to tread Among the snares of villain guile ; To sigh in doubt, and gaze in dread, And fall beneath a dagger-smile. The spirit that can span the skies, And walk divinely realms above, Is torn with sorrow, stung with lies, And murdered by the fiends of love ; For angels oft their robes impart To shroud a demon's venom'd thrust, And 'tis the madness of the heart That makes the world supremely curst. The iron mantle, flung by grief O'er bosoms scorched by lava tears, 'The savage feeling, past relief, That centres all the pain of years ; The wild-fire rush of boiling blood, The thought that seems to burst the brain, Conquer at last pride's hardihood, And time, fate, life and death disdain. 66 Vain is the searching thought intense,- That struggles in the expanding mini}. And vainer still the joys of sense, For hell and demons rush behind ; v, Gloomy 'mid mirth, in crowds alone, Distrusting good, adopting ill, Man is the thing he dares not own, The victim of his own wild will. Youth withers 'neath the blight of wrong, And minds of mighty birth are doomed To perish in convulsions strong, And by earth's reptiles be entombed ; While, lanced by hatred's gory blade, And probed by misery's venomed steel, The heavenliest hearts are naked laid For vice to balm, and hell to heal. A wanderer, seeking hope's pale ghost, A shadow in the world's wide blaze, In labyrinthine mazes lost For blackening nights and midnight days, Led by delusion, girt by woe, Followed by horror and remorse, Man could not render life below More dreary, nor the world make worse. THE BANQUET HALL. Midnight waned in the ebon sky, And the deep blue vault of Heaven was still, Save the warning voice of the angel's cry, As he watched the fiends on Zion hill. His warder notes in the depths of night Are heard alone by the minstrel's ear, 67 (For the high star-beam, as it gilds the sight, Has a voice that fancy's soul may hear ;) And the sleeping earth in silence lay, Dreaming of love or hate or wo, And the lulling lapse of a streamlet's play Rose faint and far in the moonlight glow ; And I wandered on in reverie lost, 'Till the brutal roar of a revel rout The circling current of fancy crossed, And made the waked sense gaze about ; When the flaring lights of the banquet hall,. And the noisy rush of revelry, And the mummery mask, and sparkling ball, Burst on my ear, and heart, and eye. And I stood and mused of the forms that there Displayed their charms to the losel's view, And the visored smile that masked despair, And the scornful laugh that ne'er was true ;. The silent pain of a dazzling breast, The feverish throb of a jewelled brow, The painful wish to seem most blest When sighing with excess of wo ; And the sight did chill my aching eye As I mused of that gaudy misery. The joys that live in a faithful heart, Devoted to Heaven and changeless love, Were all unknown in that crowded mart, Where pleasure's votaries torture prove The palled pursuit of joyless show, The gay resort of gloomy souls, Where truth would count the pulse of wo ; Though truth her banner ne'er unrolls In such a masquerade of guile If each dared look beneath a smile. The glare waxed dim as I gazed alone, And the fairy forms I saw were gone ; And the rushing sound of mirth and glee 68 Retired like the waves of a stormy sea. What pillows of fear will the revellers press ? What dreams be their's of happiness? When those gemmed robes are laid aside, Where will their mirth be, pomp and pride ? The beds that ye press, I envy not, Nor your heartless joys and painful lot. I entered at morn and it came full soon, To the banquet hall and the proud saloon; And many a vestige of revelry there Told of past pleasure but where, oh where, Were the forms and the shadows, so bright and gay .' Hide it from earth, both love and lay ! The vacant chair, and the goblet broken, And scattered viands, were many a token Of what had been aud my lonely eye Wandered o'er all as a saddened sigh Stole from my heart, at the mournful view Of the wreck of those joys that man thinks true. THE CHICAPEE. On a moss-cushioned cliff o'er the stream of Montzeil, Far away from the haunts of my loveliest days, When the soft shades of evening in mellowness steal O'er lawn, grove and lea amid zephyr's sweet lays, And dewy-lipp'd naiads are scudding the stream, While music is waving in their long sunny hair, And sylph forms in moonlight, as they glide atvay, seem Like the shapes that we lov'd in the lost days that were ; O then, as the wave of Montzeil trickles on, I muse of the hours that smiled brightly o'er me, And I seem once again, with the youth that have gone On. the musical shores of the lone Ch icapee. 69 Since the days of our childhood, when the heart was the throne Of affection and feeling by malice unstung, And the spirit aspiring developed in tone Each young thought of beauty as brightly it sprung, I have wandered afar from the home of my love, And read the false world with the eye of despair, While the green earth below, and the blue sky above The pall of my sorrows seem'd ever to wear ; And my pathway has teemed with the vipers of hate, The insects of folly, and reptiles of scorn, And the fierce'voice of woe, and the wild shrieks of fate Have echoed around me all lonely and lorn. On the proud-rolling Hudson full oft I have sailed With a father who sleeps in the dust by its shore, By Savarinah's dark stream I have wander'd and wailed For the heart-enshrin'd friend who can guide me no more ; Pawtuxet has lost all its charms and its hues, For the youth, that once 'thronged its wild woods with me Are scattered afar in their feelings and views, Like the leaves of our bowering and revelling tree ; Pale-blue Housatenic chimes the low dirge of love, - For Ellen no more tunes its music for me But through the yet blooming and musical grove Still lovingly soft flows the lone Chicapee. On the green-sloping banks of that beautiful stream, Thou slumber' st, my sister, in the sleep of the dead, While zephyrs wave o'er thee, and bright planets beam, And roses and violets perfume thy dark bed ! The birds of sweet voices are singing around, And the willow I planted has grown far above Thy grave, and the spot has become like the ground That embraces no form of unspeakable love. Yet I live in this world of deep sorrow alone, And 1 hear those strange voices that tell me of thee, While, mingling with crowds of bright beings, I moan For a place by thy side on the lone Chicapee, 70 RETROSPECTION. Love of my sad and lonely Youth ! to thee I bowed my spirit in deep ecstacy, And when most thrall'd esteemed myself most free From lowly earth's polluting stains, And sorrow's self-engendered pains, And all that saints mourn over and regret ; Fci- deep-felt passion purifies the heart, And, when the signet of true love is set, Sublime conception will its thought impart^ And noblest virtue ever sway The joyous life from day to day. Those holy hours of heavenly love we past Their incense yet o'er life's lone path-way cast, And through my being will their influence last, Though, like the light of paradise To suffering sinner's straining eyes, Their pure, unearthly splendor in the gloom Of dark misfortune and unceasing woe, Gleams like the baleful torch-light of the tomb, And haggard shapes and ghastly forms doth show To eyes, that once on beauty shone, And met love true as was their own.. Love of my dark and lonely youth ! thy name, Unread, unheard, no mortal power shail claim, For, though I'm changed, yet I am still the same To thee, my heart's eternal bride ! My spirit's life, and joy and pride ! When far retired from earth's unfeeling things I hold communion with the days gone by, And when my soul on high devotion's wings Reads the bright volume of eternity, I think of thee, and whispering tell Thy name to those who loved as well. 71 Another claimed thy wedded love and thon Didst yield response to his enamoured vow, And on the earth there's nothing left me now But coldness, sorrow and neglect, (Erst of such fate I little reck'd.) But in the pride of suffering I will bear The past, the present and the future's ills, And only think of thee as one in prayer Doth think of heaven and though my heart oft thrills At sound of name too like to thine, No eye in me snail grief divine. I blame thee not, sweet one ! that thou didst spealc Love to my passion, for my heart was weak, And fondly leaned on what was sure to break ; I blame thee not the time hath gone When I did wish tfiee for my own. Back o'er the desert of anterior life I gaze in sorrow not with joy unblent, For childhood's dreams and youth's enkindling strife Have lost the illusion that they whilom lent, And guile hath chilled my feelings so I would not change for bliss my woe. Long time hath past lone, leaden-winged hours, Days, months and years since Housatonic's bowers Heard zephyr wantoning among the flowers To lovers' soft and witching lay ; And many a lingering, lonely day Since then hath hung like mountain on my mind, And seemed eternal as the vault above ; And, though I've lived in misery, yet resigned I could have been to sacrifice my love, Hadst thou not lost, the while, thy bloom, And wert thou not so near the tomb, 72 But such is youthful love all passion, fire, Fever and frenzy all beyond desire, Or hope, or aim, save what it doth inspire Of paradise that turns to hell With all who love long, fond and well. Moments of bliss no human heart can bear Prelude dark years of misery and pain ; Rapture lends venom unto fierce despair, And youth's gay hopes in age deep sorrows reign. The heart that love leaves desolate Becomes the seat of settled hate. SONNET. Of Jove and sunny-haired Mnemosyne high-souled Daughter ! If in these sad lays Or thought or feeling gleam and live, the pr.aif. Is due, high Priestess of the Lyre ! to thee. E'en in the earliest days of memory My undirected musings wandered forth From dull oppression and unmannered mirth, And held high converse, 'neath the old oak tre- 1 loved, with thee, O tearful Goddess ! Left An infant orphan, and enslaved by those Who, kindred friends, became my bitterest foes ; In childhood of a sister-love bereft, And ever haunted by the fiends of ill; Queen of lone hearts ! as then I love thee still ! THE SISTERS OF ST CLARA, BY SUMNER L. FAIRFIELD PORTLAND: PRINTED BX TODD AND SMITH, 1825, TO PROFESSOR EVERETT, WHOSE EMIJSENT TALENTS HAVE VINDICATED AND ADORNED AMERICAN LITERATURE, IN TESTIMONY OF HIGHEST RESPECT FOR HIS VARIOUS ERUDITION AND ACCOMPLISHED ABILITIES, IS DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR, sestets of A PORTUGUESE TALE. CANTO I. I. r Tis the bridal of nature, the season of spring, When Pleasure flits round on her diamond wing, And the spirit plays brightly and fondly and free, Like gem-dropping beams on a boundless blue sea, And the young heart is lit by the beams of love's eye, Like an altar of perfume by fi.es of the sky. 'Tis the heart-blooming season of innocent love, When the green growing mead and the whispering grove And the musical stream as it purls o'er the dale, And the flowers whose lips zephyr woos in the vale, Are seen with the spirit of thrilling delight As visions of beauty too passingly bright, And heard like the songs that come o'er us in dreams When the soul's magic light through infinity gleams. The gay Earth is vestured with verdure and flowers, And Hope sings away the sweet sunny hours, While bathing in sunbeams or over the sky Her star-pinions waving through glories on high. The citron groves throw on the wings of the breeze Their balm-breathing flowers, an;i the green orange trees Harp sweetly in airs from the hill and the sea, Like lyres heard unseen singing joys yet to be. O Eden of beauty ! Lusitania ! the sun Loves to linger awhile, when his journey is done, 7 74 On the lofty twin Pillars, whose brows in the sky Gleam bright when the sun-god rides flash! ngly by, Which stand in their might 'mid the waves of the sea- Abyla and Calpe unconquered and free. And Cintra's dark forests look smilingly on Apollo descending from his chariot throne, While Estrella's lagoon, green Escura receives Sheen tints of his rays from the wood's gilded leaves, AnH Tajo's broad bay like a mirror reposes 'Tween a heaven of light and a garden of roses. I It The sun's last beam of purple light Emblazons Calpe's castle height, And over Lusitania's sea Looks with a smile of melody. The volcan fires of ./Etna glow Brighter as sinks Hyperion low, And, 'mjd the gathering twilight, high Stromboli gazes on the sky, O'er dark-blue ocean's billowy foam To light the wandering sailor home. Child of the sun, the dusky Moor Watches the horizon, bright obscure, And, while the fine-voiced muezzin calls Devotion's hour, from Ceuta's walls Throws his keen eye's far-searching glance O'er the dark billows as they dance Along the Mauritanian shore, And listens to their surging roar Around Abyla's basement deep, Lest in tired nature's twilight sleep The foe upon his guard should steal, And gain the pass ere trumpet peal. Adverse, the gallant Briton stands On Calpe's height, by mortal hands Unbuilt and views with Jofty pride The vast sail gleaming o'er the tide, While every breeze that comes from far Wafts music from red Trafalgar. Evening's dim shadows o'er thee close, Fair Lusitania ! and the rose Of morning blushes o'er thy plains With the same rich and gorgeous light As when his warlike, wild Ala>ns, O'er forest, flood and vale and height. From Volga's banks Respedial led To Tajo's darkly wooded shore, And made on earth his royal bed With those who knew their king no more. And the sun rolls his last faint beam O'er princely dome, rose-margined stream, And almond grove and jasmine bower, With the same smile as ere that hour When man the heart of nature stained, And freedom o'er a despot reigned. But Lusitania, oh, thy fate Hath changeful been and desolate, For leagured by war's ruthless hordes, And rent by rival feuds, thy crown Hath fall'n between contending swords, And none will now Braganza own. III. The full-orbed moon is gleaming bright On Cintra's dark and rocky height, And on verandah, turret, tower, Palace and fane at this still hour Glows with a radiant smile of love, And gilds the music-breathing grove With those pure beams of light serene, Which consecrate the peaceful scene. From wave and dome and field and grove Rise the soft notes of pleading love, And many a strain is heard from far Of wandering lover's sweet guitar, And in the songs be fondly sings 76 Sfis glowing heart finds rainbow wings, Which bear his soul's devoted love "To her who would his honor prove. Dian the queen of sighs and tears, Her richest robe of beauty wears, And smiles to hear the vows that rise Beyond her dwelling in the skies, While still she weeps in prescient pain That passioned love is worse than vain. IV. St Clara's dark and massy dome, Deluded vestals' hopeless home, 'Mid the dense cypress grove uprears Its ivied turrets, grey with years, And, where the shadowy moonlight falls, Displays its blackened prison walls, Within whose solitary cells Tearless despair for ever dwells,, And sin, beneath devotion's name, Reposes in its sacred shame, While deeds unweened by him of hell Are done in murder's fatal cell. Within St Clara's cloisters doomed In living grave to be entombed, Two lovely vestals, young and fair, In misery dwelt and dark despair. Their loves and hopes and feelings chained-,. Lone sorrow o'er their being reigned, "Till hope arose upon their eye, And mighty love's deep witchery Woke the fond hearts that had been cruslietL And the soul's sun-light current gushed. Like roses budding on one stem Or blendkig hues of opal gem, Lovely they sat within their cell, Silent 'till expectation's swell Burst o'er each thought and feeling high,. 77 Like sun-showers from the azure sky. Around them speaking stillness hung, 'Till Zulma's glowing feelings sprung To words that flowed like morning's beam, Or song from lips of seraphim. " Sweet Inez ! fast the fearful hour, " When we shall spurn monastic power, "Approaches, and our spirits' might " Must dare the Ordeal of to-night. " The church's power, our father's ire,. " And Heaven perchance, will all conspire " To quell the scheme we venture on ; " Then, Inez, 'till the deed is done, "And we have passed their power's extent, " Let not thy dovelike heart relent "Nor fancy picture punishment." "Oh, lovely Zulma, hope is light " Within my trembling heart to-night, "And fain this aching heart would prove "The silent joys of blissful love. "But, ah ! my path in life has been " So full of woe, and every scene "Of joy so soon has changed to grief, "I fear my heart will find relief "Never 'till life shalhcease to beat "Within the snow-white winding-sheet." The melting beams of Inez' eye Mingled with tears of misery; O'er her pale cheek and blanching brow Hope's feverish hectic ceased to glow, And through her heart the chilling blight Of fear, like gale of northern night, Flew with a deadly freezing breath^ That laid her budding joys in death. V. ZTTLMA'S high spirit at the view Of peril more undaunted grew, And glowed 'mid sorrow's gathering gloom,. 78- Like angel faith above the tomb. In danger's hour she stood alone, 'Mid fearful things the fearless one, And, as her sunlight spirit burned O'er the deep darkness of despair, The trembling fears of all she turned To hopes and left them smiling there. Her broad high brow, the throne of thought, And features into spirit wrought ; Her star beam eye, and look of light, And moulded form that chained the sight, And swanlike neck, and raven hair, And swelling bosom, richly fair, Which rose and sunk, like moonlight sea, In its deep passion's ecstacy, As if her mighty heart were swelling In sun-waves for its heavenly dwelling ; All spake a spirit proud and high, A. wandering seraph of the sky. And such was ZCLMA ; sorrow's night Might its dark shadows o'er her cast, But the deep gloom her spirit's light Changed into rose beams as it past ; She had one aim and none beside Could bend her lofty lightning pride, And, eve she drooped, she would have died. Vemeira knew his daughter well, And chained her spirit in a cell Ere she could know the desolate And hopeless woe of such a fate, And 'twas an elder child's delight To serve he quelled that spirit bright. VI. Timid and fearful as the fawn, That searches ere it treads the glade,. Yet lovely as a springtime dawrr In robes of rosy rays arrayed ; Wai m, feeling, soft and delicate As the last blush of summer eve, Tot trembling at the frown of Fate,. 79 Lest, while her heart did sadly grieve, Sin should assume the garb of woe, _ And shroud in gloom devotion's glow - r INEZ, though fair as forms that rove Round Fancy's fondest dream of love, Was tender, gentle, fragile, frail, And shrinking as the violet pale Which blooms in solitary vale, By zephyr fanned and breathed alone, Unseen, unsought, unprized, unknown. Feelings suppressed and thoughts untold Flowed silently, like liquid gold, O'er her fond heart, while virtue's sun Threw glory o'er them as they run. Her smiles and tears alike were born In purity of virgin love, And, like bright Eos, child of morn, She drank at streams that gush above ; For sweetness such to her was given, Her faintest prayer was heard in heaven. VII. When Zulma heard her sister's plaint, And saw her gentle spirit sink, Her soul arose in power " To faint "While standing on dark ruin's brink "Were madness worse than mirth in death " When love and happiness await " Our flight, to droop despair beneath "Were folly that deserved the fate." " But if we fail" " It cannot be ! "Love, like the mountain breeze, is free, "And, amid peril, wrong and ill, " Strong as the gale that sweeps the hill,. "Or severing ocean in its might, " Brings long-lost treasures into light." "But will beholding heaven approve u Our broken vows for earthly love ?" "St Mary shrive thee '. would'st thou be 80 "A Vestal in hypocrisy ? "Oh, gentle Inez, guard thy love ! "Count Dion's daring quest would prove "But folly's dream in evil hour, "If thou dost spurn the boy-god's power." Inez arose, her blue eye flowed In gushing tears of pearly light ''-Zulma, my heart were ill bestowed " If Dion called me false to-night.'' " Vemeira's daughterstill ! O Heaven ! "Love's messenger his call has given ! " Inez ! that rose, by Dion thrown, " Lay on thy heart it is thine own "And haste thee, for we must be gone 1" The soft strain of a sweet guitar Now mellowed came as if from far, But, artful in its measured fall, It rose by dark St Clara's wall, And, mastered by Prince Julian's hand, Its sweet notes flowed so richly bland, They told unseen the minstrel lover, . And Zulma's soaring spirit over Threw breathless rapture as she fled From her lone cell with footstep light, While Inez' heart, at every tread, Throbbed with wild fears of deep delight. VIII. Queen of the skies ! why should the beams Of ihy soft eye so richly glow O'er scenes that darkest gloom beseems, As fitting their soul-harrowing woe ? Why should thy smile alike illume Despair and Hope, and Love and Hate, The bridal mansion and the tomb, Hearts full of bliss and desolate ? Empress of Heaven ! oh, thou wort made For blooming hearts and tearless eyes, To light the spirit's serenade, 81 And high-souled love's fond ecstacies ; And, when young Time in Even's bowers With nature, truth and simple love Dwelt and wove crowns of fragrant flowers, While Innocence with him would rove In soothing shade of fair-leaved grove, And smile and sing in loveliest tone From very fulness of delight, When Angels looked from Glnry's throne And threw around her robes of light ; Ere woe was born of sin, and crime Blotted from man's corrupted heart The fairest name that youthful Time Had written there with magic art ; Ere the sad hour man's father fell, And o'er his fall rose shouts from hell, Thou, sky-throned Isis ! from thy throne In all thy circuit joy alone Didst see with bright, love-beaming eye Beneath the azure arching sky. Alas ! thou art now doomed to gaze Upon a world so dark and fell, That thy most pure and lovely rays Serve but man's midnight heart to tell. IX. On the young vestals' desperate flight Thou didst look down with smile as gay As if it was their bridal night, And they were led in fair array O'er bright saloons and marbled halls ; And on ST CLARA'S prison wal's Thy gleaming radiance shone as fair As if delight were smiling there ; And on the lovely INEZ' eye, As she and ZCLMA fled in fear, Thy rays were thrown from yon blue sky, Unconscious that they lit a tear. Crossing the cypressed cemetry, 82 They hurried on with unheard tread 'Till they had gained the boundary Of the lone empire of the Dead, When, ere the signal could be given To those who watched beyond the wall, Inez stretched forth her hands to Heaven, Weeping as if the hour when all Her hopes should die had come and spread Its pall o'er life and thus she said ; "Now, ere we part, sweet Zulma, say " Thou lov'st me as in childhood's day, "When we together fondly st.ayed rt Through arboured groves and greenwood shade. " And on the mead plucked roseate flowers "And chaplets wreathed to crown the hours, " When none beneath the laughing sky "Were half so gay as thou and I, _ " Whose twin delights, like peach flowers thrown " On almond boughs, each loved to own, "And every smiling, happy year " Flowed brightly as our own Zevpre. , " Say, Zulma, say thou lov'st me still, " And I will suffer every ill " That follows broken vows made known " So Zulma's love is all my own." "Now ere we part a strange prelude, 41 Fair, fearful sister ! to delight " Thy very spirit is imbued "With causeless doubts and fears to-night. " Wake thee from fright thou hast my love, " And shall my fate and fortune prove. " They hear our rustling in the shade " Here is the cord-wove escalade "Now, INEZ, fearless follow me, " Doubt not, we must and shall be free." Unfaltering ZULMA scaled the height, Cheering the lovely nun to speed, And then flew down with footstep light 83 To JULIAN'S arms, most blest indeed. The solitary vestal stoi d A moment ere she dared to climb, And in that moment's solitu 'e Hei stolen flight appeared like crime ; She was so pure, so lovely, sin Tinged not a thought her soul within. But Dion's low though passioned call Impelled her faltering foot above, And she had gained the ivied wall, In view of all to whom her love Clung with a fondness oniy known To feeling hearts that throb alone, When the full gush of high delight O'erwhelmed her sense and dimmed her sight, And her brain reeled in dizziness ; She heeded not the cries below, She could nor see nor hear nor know The insupportable distress Of those who saw her fainting there ! Count Dion sprung he reached the height* But one shrill shriek of wild despair, The falling form that met his sight, The hollow groan, that rose and fell Upon his heart like ruin's knell, Told him his loves, joys, hopes had fled, And INEZ numbered with the dead. X. "Away away ! Prince Julian, fly ! "The alarum bell is pealing high, "And ruthless hordes of vestal fiends " Are rushing hither !" Who ascends Again that dreadful wall, so late Scaled with a look that smiled at Fate ? 'Tis Zulma "Julian ! leave me now, " For 1 must share the death I wrought, And consummate my yestal vow 84 "In pain and darkness as I ought." She rose to give her purpose deed, When Dion barred her path and cried " Prince Julian ! as thou wouldst in need, "And when despair hns humbled pride, "Crave mercy of the powers on high, " Seize Zulma quick and fly, fly, fly !" In. passion wild and wildered fear Julian obeyed the wise behest, And grasped the heroic maiden ere She could achieve her purpose ; prest Unto his throbbing heait, her high Spirit lost its wild energy, And, whelmed by mingled love and dread. Left her as passive as the dead ; And, ere a moment more had flown, The high-souled nun and piince had gone. Count Dion watched them out of view, Then seized the bianch of towering yew, And dropped within the cemetry, Where round the lifeless Inez spread Tombs whose white marble mournfully Shone as in mockery of the Dead. He raised the lovely sufferer, And laid her bleeding on his breast, And kissed the death-like cheek of her Who was his spirit's heaven most blest, While, as he gazed in speechless woe O'er her soft, lovely features graven With death's dark lines, he saw below Nor love nor joy, nor hope in heaven. But scarce the space of lightning's glare W T as left to muse of his despair, Or soothe the suffering Inez there ; The cloister horde by Abbess led, Exulting that their venomed iiate Could now be poured on beauty's hee.3 And virtue's heart left desolate, 85 Rushed like hyaena troops upon The gallant Dion bu4, appalled By his proud port, though all alone He stood they paused and shrilly called Their faithful, favored alguazil, To guard the holy cloister's weal. Folding his bosom's suffering bride With one strong arm unto his heart, And with the other waving wide A sword by sage Iberian art Trebly refined and edged, he bade The serpent throng avoid his path, And sprung upon the escalade ; Then came the alguazil in wrath, Dashing the trembling host away, Like war-ship rushing through the spray, And Dion charged in lordly tone To yield and meek submission own. The Lover there that moment stood, Not like proud warrior trained in blood, But like that Spirit who on high His four-edged sword waved o'er the sky, And bade the sinning mortal die. " Yield thee, blasphemer ! Heaven commands." "Chain, then, the bold blasphemer's hands, "And bind his phrenzied spirit down "Low as thy'master's and thine own." "Darestthou the monarch's alguazil ?" " Bid ye the whelp-robbed lion kneel !" "Fell ruffian ! thou wilt rue this hour." " Ruffian ! not while my sword hath power." And with the word the unfailing blade Low at his feet the opposer laid, And Dion seized the escalade. He springs with more than mortal might, He rises almost gains the height His hand is on the moss-grown wall This moment saves or ruins all I Oh, Dion, nerve thy heart again, One minute, spring thou wilt be freo, And save thy love 'tis vain 'tis vain, Despair hath sealed thy destiny ! They tear away the cord-wove frame, And thou art doomed to woe and shame ! Still Dion bears the double weight With one torn, bleeding, numbing hand Awhile he falls the scroll of Fate Hath rolled its darkest record ! " Stand, "Exulting fiends, oh, stand ye there, "And over heaven your triumph tell, ""And laugh o'er death and dark despair, "For than ye worse reign not in hell !" ****** ****** XI. 'Tis sweet to gaze on a moonlight sea, But sweeter upon its wave to be When the mellow airs of springtime night Come over the heart as it floats in light, And the sleeping flowers exhale perfume, Like a virgin's breath from lips of bloom, And the dark-blue waters curl and gleam In the diamond's star-light's mirrored beam, While the spirit burns o'er the glittering sea 'Till it longs a moonlight wave to be. But, ah, there are hearts on a moonlight sea That love not afar from their home to be, Whose pain mellow airs can ne'er assuage, Nor the starlight wave their thoughts engage ; Who sail on the sea with nor hope nor joy, Unloving the beautiful waters and sky, In whose dreary breasts delight never moves, And who turn from the view of rapturous loves, With a sickening burst of coming pain, For they never can feel their hopes again, Oh, spirits that sail on the moonlight sea 87 Should have thoughts as vast as eternity, And feelings as pure and happy as those Rainbow-winged birds who can dwell in arose, For hearts full of grief, oh, never can be Fond of sailing alone on a moonlight sea. XII. O'er Lusitania's soft-blue moonlight bay Swells the gay song of reckless gondolier, While his bark dances, a-s the waters play, On the shore waves that glitter bright and clear.. Dim in the distance, marked upon the sky, Wave the blue pennon and the glimmering sail, And oft is heard the master's anxious cry While shoreward sea-boy answers to his hail. Yet, save his song and their expectant cries, The world is slumbering in a soft repose, And spirits from their star-thrones in the skies Breathe softly as a dew-lipped sleeping rose. It is the hour when Love's communion fills Eye, lip and heart with rapture's magic light; When waning Dian, throned on shadowy hills, Smiles o'er young transports from her azure height, Pomegranate, orange, lime and citron groves Shadow grey turrets and time-honored towers, And heaven's pale queen amid their arbours roves And counts with tears the melancholy hours. But hushed is song of happy gondolier, And fast the shadowy sail ascends on high ; A step, a form, a voice " Prince Julian's here I" '* Alfonso, haste ! this hour we 'scape er die !" 88 XIII. Before the rising, shrill-voiced gale Flies the yard-stretching, mighty sailj Swelling o'er broad Atlantic billow, Like swan upon her wavy pillow, Dashing aside from her high prow The wave, whose hissing foam-wreath? glow Like jewels thrown in floating snow, And hurrying on her watery way, Between two oceans, heaven and earth's, Like war horse through the battle fray, Whose mighty heart would burst his girths In its high swelling, should his lord Or check his speed or sheathe his sword-. With a long sigh, as if from dream Of pain and anguish slowly waking, From Julian's breast, with sudden screara Wild as her bleeding heart were breaking, Zulma arose and gazed around On ocean's sons, on wave and sky, And then fell back and deeply groaned, While gleamed through tears her eagle eye. "Oh, Julian, 'twas a deadly wrong " To save a wretched murderess ; " And her remorseful life prolong " Whom none can love and none will bless." " No, 'twas a deed a saint might do, "An angel glory to achieve, " To save from sorrows ever new " A lovely creature doomed to grieve."" "Oh, dear, lost Inez !" Shudderings came O'er her like sansar's chilling breath, As from her heart flowed that sweet name Which now was linked with woe and death. And, wrapt in silent suffering, She saw nor wave nor sky nor lover, Nor heard the light-winged breezes sing, Like nymphs in sea-shells, ocean over; All all to her was pain and gloom, Her thoughts of what she left behind, And o'er her angel sister's tomb She heard the lonely wailing wind, With spirit voice of wild distress, Denouncing Inez' murderess ! Darkly with phantoms of her brain Communing, still o'er billowy main Zulma was hurried rapidly, And the low murmuring of the sea Seemed, when she heard the gulfing surge, Hymning the murdered vestal's dirge. No voice of comfort touched her heart,. No solemn pledge of love allayed Her bosom's anguish " oh, depart "And leave the guilty wretch you made!" Prince Julian left but watched her still, And gave her grief unstiffled flow ; " Sorrow at last must drink its fill "And nature calm the pulse of woe." XIV. The virgin huntress of the skies "With Ocean's daughters flies afar, And Eos and her nymphs arise Above the sun-god's throne, each star, E'en Orion's blazing sword of light, And the twin-martyrs' wreath so bright, And sea-born Beauty's radiance dimming. While blue-zoned Tethys weaves a crown Of pearls and corals brightly swimming Through her empire fathoms down, To deck Aurora's rosy brow As her white steeds o'er ether fly, And proud Hyperion, bright and slow, Rolls unto heaven his glorious eye. The bird of Jove his mighty wings Waves o'er the crimson vault above j And from his eye a radiance flings Bright as the brightest glance ef love. The white-plumed sea gull scuds the sea r The shrill curlew sports round the bark. And nature sings of liberty And love as when from ancient ark The beasts of earth and birds of heaven To their bright fields and skies were given. XV. The rushing ship is sailing now O'er the bright wave of Trafalgar, And Morn is blushing o'er the brow Of Algarve's dusky mountains far, With the same smile of living bloom As when to ocean's billowy tomb, Amid the sea-fray's carnage red, Their requiem shouts of victory, Shrouded in glory, England's Dead Sunk with unclosed, war-lightened eye, Whose last, bright glance from gory wave Saw England's banner proudly streaming Victorious o'er their ocean grave, And England's sword triumphal gleaming ; And o'er his sons, with every surge, Bright, billowy ocean sings their dirge. And now the swelling sail is fanned By zephyrs o'er that narrow sea, O'er which on either margin stand Those giant mountain twins which he, Alcmena's son,* with godlike power Severed and poured the sea between, And which, since that rock-sundering hour, The deadliest foes have ever been. ^. Thence onward holds the bark her way Through the blue wave in fair array, "While to the northern view arise The Alpine mountains in the skies, O'er whose snow-mantled summits erst * Herclrtes, 91 The Mauritania!! hero led His warlike host, by fate accursed. To glory, as the warrior said, And the proud spoils of mighty Rome 7 In that soul-stirring hour of pride, When his heart rolled in glory's tide T Having dread Cannse in his view No more than he, whom Waterloo Sent to Helena's living tomb, Had of that desolating fray On Lodi's or Marengo's day. Before the view, where sunbeams smile, Rises that rocky mountain isle,* Where he was born, thu mighty one, Whose gory course of fame is run ; And where, perchance, a harmless boy, His fellows' chief, his mother's joy, He wandered oft and played and smiled Amid the mountain's shrubbery wild, An innocent and happy child ; Undreaming of his pomp and power, His crimes, disgrace and exile fate. Ah ! few can tell in childhood's hour What thoughts and deeds their manhood wait Or who will ban or bless the name That blazes on the scroll of Fame ; For many a one hath been carest By those who cursed his place of rest. In him a mighty spirit burned, But with a fierce rolcano glare ; Oh, had that soaring spirit turned To heaven and drank in glory there, Earth would have bowed in rapture free And idolized his memory ! And o'er his glorious monument Heaven's highest spirit might have bent, And read his praise with glad consent ; w The Man, who guides a nation's way * Corsica. 92 " To bloodless glory, o'er his name " Throws brighter wreaths of light than they "Who deck Earth's highest shrine of Fame." But ah ! he fell and with him died His empire, power and pomp and pride ; And nought remains of all he won Quenched is Napoleon's zenith sun. Still onward fleet the ship careers, Like rapid lapse of hurrying years, While fades the bright foam of its wake, Like all the joys we give or take, And bears, with sail expanding high, Its course, beneath a glorteus sky, Toward soft Campania's fairy land, Where zephyrs sport with breathings bland O'er ruins erst of pride and fame, And gorgeous domes of crime and shame. And, 'mid the night that robes the skies, Julian directs sad Zulma's view Where ^Etna's fiery columns rise In desolation's lurid hue, And glare between this world and heaven, Like fiends to whom Destruction's given. The baleful light is flaring o'er Trinacria's vine-clad, flowery shore, Where Arethusa once did gush In lucid streams for bards to drink, And Alpheus 'neath the sea did rush To meet his fountain bride the brink Was clothed in amaranthine flowers, And, near,Ortygia's sacred grove', Delayed the rosy-footed hours Of pure delight and raptured Love. A weedy marsh now stagnates there, And taints the thick and sluggish air, As all man's hop.es close in despair. 93 The lovers' course is almost done, The lovers' goal is nearly won, And how hath Zulma borne the flight ? Like one whose brightest day was night. Like one whose heart hath caught a taint Of crime, though fancied, dark and deep ; Whose dread remorse doth ever paint Horrors, and ne'er is lulled to sleep* Since o'er a spirit proud and high It reigns with threefold energy. Who backward looks and finds despair, And forward, misery bars her there ; Below there sleeps a murderess Above there dwells no Power to bless. The more she thinks, the darker grows The volume of her sins and woes ; No change conies o'er her agony ; Like Etna's fire, it burns within, And, darkening o'er the spirit's sky, Burns ever with the gathering sin. It was not madness ; o'er her brain Coherent thoughts ceased not to flow 1 ; But 'twas that dread, oppressive pain, That mountain weight of crushing woe, Which follows, in a sinless mind, A deed that spirits too refined Brood o'er as done by them though none Other would such arraignment own. Reason was worse than vain and speech The dreadful mania could not reach ; So Julian left to Time the dread Disease which o'er her pure heart shed The baneful death-dew of despair, And fixed its upas fountain there ; For Zulma sought no sympathy, No comfort false as it is free, But leaned upon the penal rod Aud bowed her burning heart to GOD. 94 XVI. The bark hath passed the Tyrrhine sea And anchored in the glorious bay Of proud and base Parthenope,* Where perfumed gales with sunlight play O'er antique fane and tower, And palace proud, whose mirrored dome, Like a bright heaven, o'er many a tomb Of many a mighty one laid low Gleams with a rich, refulgent glow, Like Freedom o'er lost Power. The bark is moored the lovers gone Beyond the once fair Lucrine lake, Where dark-browed Ruin reigns alone O'er Baiae lost in marshy brake, And all the fairy gardens, groves, And meads and dales erst loved so well By himt so reckless luxury proves In one a nation's ruin fell Who, shunning Glory's shrine when he Had gained the fane, left mighty Rome The victim of fierce anarchy, Dreading yet hurrying on her doom. Lucrine the haunt of mirth is gone ; And there volcanoes glare alone ! Baize hath sunk to dust and she, Earth's mistress stands, like ancestry, Scowling o'er sons, degraded, lost In soft, voluptuous ease their boast Their shame while yet her downcast eye Kindles o'er shades of power gone by. XVII. Days, weeks and months have been and gone- And raptures soft have come and flown And lovely Zulma dwells alone In solitary castle high Between fair earth and fairer sky. * Neapolis or Naples. f Lucullus. 95 Julian had been most courteous kind ; Had kneeled and sworn his deathless love ; And, lore-skilled, o'er the vestal's mind Mournful thrown comfort from above ; He had been all a lover is, And would, perchance I will not dwell On man's intent to offer bliss To one who had for him farewell Bidden all thoughts of earth and heaven, And sole to him her full heart given. Prince Julian was Campania's heir, And thus decreed his royal size ; "Thou wed'st proud Austria's daughter fair, " Or never com'st the sceptre nigher." Julian was proud and fond of fame The fair nun could nor raise his name Nor swell his power but she might be The unseen queen of sovereignty ; The empress of his private hours The angel of his palace bowers. So Julian thought, though he had tried Her virtue oft by speech oblique And look lascivious, when his pride And birth and state appeared most weak Before wrong'd Zulma's Juno eye, Whose glance spake pride and purity. From day to day he talked of love, While Zalma would not see his aim, Save when the princely sophist strove To prove all rites a needless came ; Then flashed her eye and glowed her brows And he dared not his aim avow. On love I will not moralize ; It hath more wiles and snares than sighs; Sooth be the Tale and fair I tell His deeds are man's true chronicle. XVIII. 'Twas soft Campania's evening houi> And earth and heaven were seas of light, And Zultna in her rose-wove bower Sate gazing on the horizon bright, Where white clouds float and turn to gold, Like garments in campeachy rolled, And fancy pictures angel pinions Far waving o'er those high dominions, 'Till, as she thought of pleasures gone, And Inez, tortured, dying, dead, And her own misery there alone, Her hopes destroyed, her true \oves fled, Her bleeding heart left desolate, And all the ills and woes of fate, She seized her harp and mournfully Sung of those joys no more to be. THE BANKS OF ZEVERE. The bright Sun is sinking o'er Italy's sea, And kissing Campania's rich gardens of roses, But, oh, his smile brings no pleasure to me, For my heart on the thorn-couch of sorrow reposes ; Sweetly gay rise the notes of the lover's guitar, As he greets his heart's bride in the valley cot near, But, ah, all my songs of delight are afar, Like a spirit's voice, heard on the banks of Zevere. How oft have I sat with sweet Inez upon Those rose-cushioned banks in our childhood's gay hours : And fancied delights ever new to be won In the great World of beauty and music and flowers ! How oft, O thou dear one ! 1 slumbered with thee In our moon-lighted bower in the spring of the year, And heard the birds singing on our apricot tree When we 'woke to delight on the banks of Zeme '' How oft in our eel, \rhen denied all I loved Of nature and art, I found pleasure in thee ; And in vigil and penance and weariness proved That more than devotion thy love was to me ! But, alas ! thou art dead and I am alone, Far from all that on earth or in heaven were dear ; My delights are all o'er for tho, Inez 1 art gone, And our bower blossoms not on the banks of Zevere. Julian had stood beside thebower, And heard, unseen, the mournful song, While every blushing, dewy flower Reproached him with fair Zulma's wrong ; But nature's voice, so soft, so still, Fails to o'er-rule ambition's pride, Or with atoning sorrow fill A lordly heart unsanctined. Julian approached, and greeted fair The sad, forsaken, lovely maid, And, eloquent in praise and prayer, Repeating all he oft had said, Implored compliance with his lovey Acceptance of his treasures all And she should ever ever prove The queen of banquet, bower and hall, And be his heart's eternal bride, His life, his sun, his hope, his heaven, And, when he gained his throne of pride, His royal name should soon be given. But, while the Prince besought and prayed, How sat and looked the insulted maid? Like her of Enna's rosy vale* When wooed by him of Acheron ;t Her brow so wan, her cheek so pale, Her tearful eye all brightly shone With pride and shame, disdain and scorn, And thus " Why was I ever born " So to be scoffed at ?" quick began The nun, while fierce her hot blood ran, * Proserpine. f Pluto. 9 98 And her small form, dilating, grew Like towering angel on the view. " Prince Julian, cease ! I charge thee, cease 1 "Are these thy notes of love and peace ? "Art thou to be a nation's king ? "Tuou false, deluding, guileful thing ! " The thoughts, that lightened spirits high " In gallant days of chivalry, " Throw not a wandering gleam o'er thee, " Thou craven knight of loselry ! " Vemeira is a noble name, "And it can never be that fame " Should Zulma's memory link with shame. " Shall I thy leman be ? O no ! " Never while 1 can wield a blow, " While poison drops or waters flow. " Rede thou a woman's spirit well "Ere thy own slavery thou dost tell, " And know that virtue is her heaven, " To things like thee, oh, never given ! "O Julian, Julian ! love like mine " Is quenchless,' deathless, for 'tis pure ; "E'en now it doth around thee twine " Fondly and will fore'er endure " The same as when thine eye first shone "O'er the same mirror as tny own. " Had'st thou been what I thought thee erst, " As gallant as thou wert at first, " Though doomed to groan in poverty, "'Mid malice, misery, wrong and ill, " The slave of fear a lord to me "I would have loved obeyed thee still, "And, with unsorrowing brow and eye, "Forsaken not and unforsaking, "When sleeping, kissed thy misery 11 Away, and sung to thee when waking. 99 " But these are dreams of paSsion yet " Surviving when its hope hath set ; "Vain mockeries of my bosom's sun "Quenched ere his journey is begun ! "I leave thee, Julian ! and be thou " Thy punishment no worse ! and now " There are thy gifts !" From neck of snow Her carkanet and then her zone Of jewels and her chains and rings She loosed and threw, disdainful, down ; " There, Julian, take the gilded things, " For which thou thought's! that I would sell " My virtue and now fare thee well 1" XIX. Bewildered, lost, abashed, oppressed By torrent passions wildly warring ; Defied, rlespised, disgraced, distressed, Each wildfire thought another marring ; Prince Julian stood unmoving where, In all the grandeur of despair, Zulma, like empress throned in power More than deserted nun, had left Her lover in that sundering hour When her proud heart of hope was 'reft, Overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings dread, Which for one error should atone, Since the same heart that error bred Throbbed with fond love for one alone. Zulma had hurried from his view Her form of love, her voice, her smile No more enchantment o'er him threw No more his sorrows could beguile ; She had been his and now was not He had been hers in grief and woe Now she had gone to be forgot - And he was left alone to " No ! " By Heaven '. it cannot, shall not be ! " Crown, sceptre, kingdom what are ye "To love and love's true paradise ? " Away, ye baubles ! Honor, rise ! 100 "Ambrose !" "My Lord !" "Caparison " The fleetest steed in all my stalls, " And bring the courser here anon " And guard thon well the castle walls t "I will the maid re-gain or die, " For Honor is man's majesty !" He vaulted on his mettled steed, And vanished in the forest dun, Then rose the hill and o'er the mead Rushed 'neath the last beam of the sun. of CANTO II. I. O Land of my birth ! Thou fair World of the West ! "With freedom and glory and happiness blest ! Thou nation upspiinging from forest and grove, Like wisdom's armed queen from the brain of high Jove ! Though thy winds are the coldest the North ever blows, And thy mountains the drearest when covered with snows; Though the warm fount of feeling is chilled ere it gushes, And pleasure's stream frozen while brightly it rushes ; Though thy sons like their clime are oft chilling and rude And rough as the oak in their own mountain wood ; Yet I love thee, my country ! as fondly as Tell Loved the Alpine Republic he rescued so well. For thy yeomen can circle the winter-eve hearth, Undreading oppression, and talk of the Earth, Whose bosom yields nurture to father and son, Leaving hearts pure and gay when the glad work is done; While the paeans they shout over glories by-gone Are echoed by virtues forever their own. O thou home of the rover o'er ocean's rude wave, Asylum of sorrow and fort of the brave ! Advance in thy Glory o'er forest and sea, Unrivalled, unconquered, heroic and free ! Though the rose bloom and fade in its holiday hour, And the sun-god be palled in the glory of power, And winter's cold breath blanch the blossoms of spring, Unlike the bright climes of whose riches I sing; Yet thy virtues bend not to each soothing breeze, Whose syren song lures through the soft shaded trees, Like the gay, grovelling sons of the tropical clime, 103 Whose skies are all glory whose earth is all crime. My own native Land ! far, oh, far be the day When minstrel, more worthy more fated, his lay Shall attune, of thy shame while his notes sadly swell Tale so tragic as mine with sorrow to tell ! II. The sunniest rose that ever blowed ^ In velvet vale of soft Cashmere ; The loveliest light that ever glowed O'er heaven in springtime of the year, Ne'er blushed and beamed more purely brigh' Than gentle Inez' sinless heart Upon that dreadful, fated night When doomed with all it loved to part. No spirit, gazing from above With eyes impearled.in pity's tears, Cherished more heavenly thoughts of love In glory's highest, brightest spheres, Than the pure, lovely, dying one, Dragged by that fiendlike sisterhood, When they had gory triumph won, With malice fierce and hate imbued, To the dim, dread refectory ; Where, telling fast their rosaries, And lifting many a saint-like eye To heaven with muttered groans and sighs s The demon conclave met to doom To living grave, to breathing tomb, The apostate, suffering, dying nun. The word hath passed the deed is done ! Ere morn gleams through the painted glass Of prison cell, or o'er the wall Of dark &t Clara light doth pass Dimly and sickening all, ay, all Of that most wretched band, save one, Are kneeling at the tapered shrinei Before the Omniscient's holy throne, With zeal and fervor called divine, 103 V To chant their impious prayers to Him In whose dread, all-pervading eye Not even the heavenliest seraphim Are pure in their great piety! Alas ! that Heaven's most blessed boon, Religion, breathing peace and love, In man's polluted heart so soon The veriest creed of hell should prove ! III. Bruised, wounded, bleeding, lost to sense, Her wounds unstanched, her arm unset, The dying nun was hurried thence To that dark dungeon-vault, whence yet None hath returned to tell the gloom, The anguish of that living tomb. Unseen, unfelt, unknown, her fate O'er the fair vestal's head had past, And she was left all desolate Her doom was sealed the die was cast Ere, waking from her dreadful dream, She faintly said "I heard a scream " Of death, methought, O Dion ! say "Is Zulma saved ?" Then, .as she lay Leaning against the dungeon wall, She turned groaned and fell back again; "Oh, Dion ! love ! oh, tell me all, "Is Zulma safe?" Convulsive pain Came o'er her then and dimmed the eye Of yesternight's dread memory, And through her spirit's drear opaque She could not look she could not take Perception of her agony ; She knew 't was so but how or why It baffled her delirious brain To tell ; and then she thought again, And more distinct her memory grew Of what had passed and chill the dew Of anguish hung upon her brow, 104 Like frozen breath on freezing snow, As dim she caught the past and gone ; Yet she could not the dying one, Imagine why she was alone. She spake again, but faint and low " O Dion, thou didst often say " Thy love could master every woe, " And change the spirit's night to day; " It cannot be that thou should'st now " Disdain compliance with thy vow " Now, when I feel O Dion, come "And bear me hence I must go home'.' ; She listened then for some faint sound, And strove to rise and look around ; But all was midnight gloom and she Alone there in her agony. Still memory gathered link by link And still her wounds life's current bled With a death-thirst she longed to drink What flowed around her dungeon bed ; She scooped the fluid in her hand, And bore it to her lips 't was blood I And then her spirit lost command 'Mid horror, gloom, and solitude, While sense, beyond mere words to tell, O'er all the past began to swell And well she saw herihopeless doom, There buried in eternal gloom, Whence shrillest shriek and wildest cry Couli^l ne'er be heard, her agouy To tell, beyond her prison walls, Whtre murder's scream all vainly calls. No missal thore nor cross had she, O'er which to breathe her parting breath ; To cheer her in her misery, And balm the piercing dart of death ; For they had banned the dying nun And barred redeeming penitence ! Demons ! their hate her glory won 105 Her amulet was innocence ! So malice works its own reward, And weakest proves when most on guard, Foi never yet hath hatred wrought The deadly ruin which it sought, Untended by a deadlier blow Than that which laid its victim low. IV. A sound disturbed her solitude High chanting from the chapelry ; Like waitings from a gloomy wood When echoed by a gloomy sky, The distant swell of cloister strain And matin hymn came o'er her brain, And roused to life her slumbering pain. It was her dirge that morning song, And slowly rolled the nqjes along The cypress groves the vaults the cells- Like murder's midnight groan which tells The fearful deed most fearfully ; And there the lovely Inez lay In suffering's last extremity, While not a solitary ray Of light relieved the heart-felt gloom That palled her spirit in the tomb. It was a mockery of her woe A deadly taunt a spurn at heaven The mass of hell yelled out below A demon shout most madly given That laudatory paan, sent Through farthest vault through deepest cell, To agonize the punishment Of the fair one Heaven loved so well. But, oh, no fiend with things can cope Whom GOD has left to their own will .Giv'n o'er beyond all reach of hope, At hate's hell-cup to drink their fill; The deadliest demon, banned the most, 106 May fill archangel's holiest throne Ere mortal once forever lost, Can for his damning deeds atone. The light of heaven may beam o'er hell Dimly and touch some demon there ; But man, abandoned, bids farewell To hope, and weds his own despair. V. Another sound the stillness broke, And Inez' bleeding heart awoke ; It was the wailing of a clove, The death-song of a simple bird O'er her who died for heaven and love, And gladly were the soft notes heard. Perched on a cypress o'er her cell, The bird hailed not the glorious sun, But sadly sung the last farewell Of the pure, sweet, expiring nun, To eaith and earthly sins and woes And life so early in its close. As Inez listened to the strain, And longed to waft it back again, The shade of death was in her eye, The pulses of her being beat Faintly and death's last agony Came o'er her gently ; she could meet With pleasure now her dreadful fate, And perish in that fearful state Calmly which was so desolate. She had no light, -but darkness grew Familiar, for her spirit's sun Around her mellow lustre threw Just when her virgin sands had run, And as the fount of being dried, And the warm current redly flowed Her gory couch of clay beside, Her soul's last glance more brightly glowed With angel hope of heavenly love 107 Than ever sandalled saint could prove, By all his reverenced holy power, In nature's dreadful, dying hour. Feebly she sunk the crimson tide Gushed forth no more her heart was still ; Yet her lips trembled as she died " Dion forgive my wrongs !" And 'till Her features had collapsed in death That name was breathed with every breath. VI. A taper gleams amid the gloom A white-robed form approaches near It pauses by the dungeon tomb, And listens tensely as in fear, Or hope and now it moves again And .lifts the iron-bolted grate, And gazes o'er the cell of Pain, Doubting its lovely tenant's fate, Or longing to augment her woe : Demon ! go in thy victim's gone ! With noLseless footstep, sure and slow, Unseen, unheard, and all alone, The holy Abbess lists awhile, And then descends and with a smile Deadly and dark moves round the corse, Whose features are an Angel's still ; " Dead ? Aye, 'tis well it had been worse " For thee if I had gained my will "Or thou had'st lived till now '." She turned The lovely vestal's body o'er, And laughed aloud ; and then she spurned The corse upon its gory floor, And smiled as if she gave it pain ; And then she raised the beauteous nun "Aye, 'tis a blessed fate, sweet one ! " That thou hast wrought thyself again "Thou would'st not do it !" Then she threw The pale, cold corse in wrath away, 108 And yet more dark her features grew, As death had robbed her of her prey ; And still she stood, with fiendlike eye, Revelling in hatred's demon feast, And with low curse and muttered cry Banning e'en HIM who had released The vestal from her deadly power And raised the soul to Eden's bower, When a loud crash was heard and far The echo as of bolt and bar Shooting, went forth ! Where art thou now, Proud Abbess ? Ah ! theu soon wilt know ! The iron portal to the cell, The lifted grate had fallen how It nought avails for me to tell. Perchance, the wind had laid it low ; Or death-winged angel might have thrown The dreadful bars in anger down, Eternal justice to dispense To suffering, murdered innocence. Howe'er it was the Abbess there Was doomed to perish with the dead, In silence, darkness and despair, And meet the fate her sentence said. There could be no relief no, none She had gone forth, unseen, alone, And from that subterranean cell No cry arose to human ear ; It was an earthly, mortal hell, Beyond hope's sun-illumined sphere. She shook the bars but they were fast She shrieked but echo mocked her pain ; She gazed around buj shadows past Like fiends and she sunk down again. And then remorse was leagued with fear, And both like vipers gnawed her heart ; And horrid sounds were in her ear That cried " What dost thou here ? depart !" Her heart became a globe of fire Whose flame, unceasing, mounted higher, And maddening horror, in its dread, Sov.l-harrowing sights forever bred, V r :':':", her fu-'rre eyes, i^ :v_ .-^.i-.ot strain, Ine rr~-r' ; rr madness of her ': But i<'-,H' v :- ialed ; so P.-": Is crirr-"! v;ien phrenzie:'. Ly i?a?. Vli. Unshrived, she there must die in all Her unforgiven guilt and woe ; On either side a dungeon wall, And wrath above and death below, Unsoothed, unpitied and alone, Without a single orison, Without a tear to mourn her fate, Or look of grief compassionate, Or holy rite or orris pall Or requiem chanted forth by all The holy vestal sisterhood, Who round her erst admiring stood As if Maria had been given To them in other form from heaven. But such be guilt's dark fate fore'er '. She there must perish there to dust, UIK affined, turn in dungeon drear, Accursed below among the just All entrance barred eternally ! Tortured by terror maddening, She heard e'en now the dread decree Of changeless judgment round her ring, Forestalling suffering's numbered hours And madness sprung from agony ! Darkly the storm of misery lowers, And darker yet it soon will be, For hope hath perished in her heart, And mortal and immortal pain Are mingling, with o'erwhelming art, In writhing breast and whirling biain, 19 110 And Sin uprears her giant form And mad Remorse like spectre stands, Gnawed by the fangs of venomed worm, Outstretching far his gory hands To warn too late to tell at last The victim that her day hath past ; And yet more dreadful thoughts arise, More fearful shadows blast her view, And wilder are her echoed cries, And colder is the dungeon-dew. VIII. Time flies strength fails but madness grows Stronger and darker in its mood, And fevered Fear delirious throws O'er all the gloom a robe of blood ; x And now she sinks beside the nun, There like a song-lulled angel sleeping, And smiling as her woes were done, And she in Heaven was vigils keeping, And grasps her cold and bloodless hand Convulsively, and to her heart Folds it as if the fiends that stand Exulting by would tear apart The living and the dead the dove In sacrifice inhuman slain, And wretch who slew it ! Guilt doth prove A wretched comforter in pain, In fear and death ; it will, perforce, Seek consolation from a corse. She starts as if an adder stung ! A demon voice of mirth had rung Through all the chambers of her brain ; She listens now it comes again, Blended with laughter %vild and rude, And echoes through the fatal cell, And cries aloud "Thy soul's imbrued "With blood of innocence ; 'tis well That on thy victim's lifeless breast Ill u Thou should'st sink in eternal irest !" Her bursting heart could hear no more, The last extremity had come ; She grovelled on the cold clay floor In speechless anguish at her doom ; Gazed with a maniac look, that told What horrors o'er her bosom rolled, Upon the nun who slept as still As infant that hath drank its fill ; - And then with shriek that might appal A fiend, against the dungeon wall Dashed headlong groaned and died! 'Tispast, The more than mortal suffering. Alas ! I would it were the last ! But earthly minstrel dare not sing Of fates beyond the farthest ken Of starry-eyed philosophy ; Among the abodes of mortal men He finds enough of misery To break the heart and rack the brain That feels or thinks of human pain. The scene is past and she is dead ; Perchance, her sufferings could atone, And the blood tears her wrung heart shed, For deeds of death which she had done ; Perchance, they could not but her doom Is sealed fore'er, and through the gloom, That shrouds unknown futurity, I will not pierce ; enough for me, She died in such despair as few Devoid of wretchedness could view. Her fate hath past her soul hath fled And peace attend the unsinning Dead ! IX. Life scarce had parted and her fate Passed o'er the haughty Abbess there, Ere steps approached the iron grate, And voices, as in last despair, Echoed above the fatal cell ; > The portal's raised and they descend, The sisterhood ; now note ye well, Fair vestals ! ere ye ween to wend In sin's broad path, sin's vvoful end I The highest boon of heaven may prove Tire bitterest dreg in misery's cup, And spirits born of heaver, and love By guilt be lost and given up To state abhorring and abhorred And not adoring and adored ! Long was the anxious search and quest Ere they coald trace their Abbess there. And anguish probed full many a breas* As they stood gazing in despair On murdered and on murderess ; " Jesu Maria ! give us grace ! " Oh, shield us in our dread distress, "For ah, it is a fearful place t" I pause not now to paint the scene The natural ills of life suffice, Without o'er sorrows that have been Brooding till mortal pleasure dies, To gloom the heart and cloud the way That shone so brightly yesterday. Together from the dungeon cell The corses were in silence borne, Vhile lingering tolled the funeral knei?- \nd sullen echoes moaned forlorn ; :\nd shrouded in their vestments white- fhey laid them side by side, and kept Their vigils through the livelong night; Vhite breathlessly the dead ones slap 11 . \s softly and as peacefully \s twin-bom cherubs e'er could be ! The wakeful sisters watched alone, \.nd many a holy rite was done To foil the fiend and save the soul yf i .,,. ,,.v, oi^ce held hi eh cor'" r> 113 O'er penance deep and vow austere, For many a long and sinful year. The lovely innocent, that there Lay in her death the loveliest, Demanded not a single prayer For heaven was on her look imprest. They watched they prayed night waned and morn, Like holy hope in Eden born, Blushed the stained glass and casements through, And gave the gloomy scene to view. X. To die to feel the spirit trembling, Fainting, sinking in the breast, While yet the vivid eye is sembling Life and vigor unpossessed ; To see the mortal frame decaying, The temple's pillars breaking down, And know the soul will soon be straying Over climes and realms unknown ; While warm affection hovers o'er The couch of death, with wailing prayer Imploring lengthened life once more In all the anguish of despair ; And we behold and feel and know All that is felt for us and yet Beside perceive the overthrow Of hopes on which the heart is set, And picture in our dying hour Anguish unknown till we are dead, And conscious, hopeless misery's power, And tears from being's fountains shed ; Oh, this is awful and might make A mighty spirit groan and quake. But, ah, 't is worse to think that we, The proud, high, sentient lords of earth, Must moulder into dust and be Or clay or nothing ! At our birth It was decreed that we should die, 10* 114 iiut not that we should rotting lie With every foul and loathsome thing Blending our ashes ; fling, oh, fling My corse in ocean's booming wave, Or burn item the funeral pyre, But lay it not in reeking grave, To glimmer with corruption's fire ! St Clara's funeral bell is knelling With the solemn voice of death, And far the mournful notes are swelling. While from postern far beneath Issue the white-robed virgin train, Chanting low the requiem strain, Over the dark and dismal tomb Of one in being's roseate bloom, And one in sallow, withered age, Departed from life's tragic stage. Where sorrow never wakes to weep, And ill and wrong torment no more, And homeless wanderers sweetly sleep. And hate and pride and pain are o'er, They lay the vestals finally. Above them waves a cypress tree, Entwined with briar and rosemary, And round them sleep the mighty dead.. Who centuries since forever fled ; A silent nation unannoyed By all they suffered or enjoyed. The ceremonial pomp is past The vestals vanish, one by one The holy Father is the last, And even he hath slowly gone. And stillness reigns o'er all the scene? That is so peaceful and serene ; A stillness greatly eloquent When pious spirits bow and feel Delicious melancholy, sent Fro-m heaven, o'er all their being stea'. With purifying breathings mild; 115 And they become like little child, Gentle and docile, purely good, In their communing solitude, And look from earth to heaven with eye Of sage reflecting piety, Comparing man's allotment here With glories of a brighter sphere. XI. O Love ! the holiest name in heaven, The purest, sweetest thing below ! Why are thy joys to torture given? Thy raptures unto wailing woe ? Why should thy fondest votaries prove Faithful even unto death in vain ? Or why, despite thy vows, O Love ! Should all thy blisses close in pain? No voice was heard no form was seen Within the church-yard's lonely bound, And Dion, from his weedy screen, Rose mournfully and gazed around. Long had he lain unnoted where He fell with lovely Inez long He wrestled with his wild despair When he beheld his deadly wrong. He watched each leaden-winged hour For some faint note of joy or grief, 'Till Destiny's most dreaded power To him had almost been relief. But nought allayed his dread suspense 'Till Inez and her murderess Were borne to that lone mansion, whence iNo tenant ever found egress. Then flashed the whole revealment dire O'er noble Dion's heart and brain, And lit a wild and wasting fire Of wrath which nothing could restrain, Or mitigate, save that sad doom 116 She met, who laid in neighboring tomb. Few vaunt ancestral power and pride, And wear a noble blazoned name, 'Mid war's rich spoils and glory's tide Raised to the grandest pitch of fame, Who bear such in-born virtue, worth, Honor and truth as he whose birth Was his least merit ; few could vie With Dion in nobility ! With rolling eye, and brow of gloom, And pallid cheek and trembling tread, Dion approached the robbing temb Where Inez slept among the Dead, And bowed his throbbing head upon The golden-lettered tablet stone Despairingly, while forth his tears Unbidden gushed. "In youthful years "I little recked of fate like this ; " I weened the world was full of bliss " And man most blessed in life Alas I "lam not now the thing I was. " O Inez ! O my bosom's bride ! " Could'st thoa have told me ere thou died " Thy love changed not no happier fate " Than now to die could me await. "But, oh, my love ! the act that proved " Thy death told truly how thou loved "One to whom thou wert more than heaven- " Thy very life for me was given ! " Thou art avenged, sweet love ! by ONE " With whom the dread right dwells alone, " And nought remains for me below " To do for thee, my love ! and now " It is too late for me to strive " With Destiny ; none bid me live " To be their comfort thou art gone, "And I am lost, undone, alone ! " Inez I forgive the murderous deed It is to meet thee that I bleed 117 " And die upon thy virgin tomb " O Inez ! love ! I come I come !" He drew his poniard, looked on high For the last time with gleaming eye, Then laid him down the grave beside And clove his heart ! The purple tide Gushed like a torrent and he died ! The last glance of his spirit turning To her for whom his heart was burning. XII. The autumnal sun's rich evening beams Blush o'er Cantabria's billowy sea, And Lusian fields and groves and streams, Like angel smiles, celestially ; And clustering vines hang purpling o'er The shrubbery mantled palisade, And golden orange, cypress hoar, And cork tree rough and yew, whose shade The dead alone doth canopy, And sunken glen and dim defile, Alike in nature's bounties free, Refract the soul-inspiring smile Of Autumn queen-muse of the heart ! And as soft evening's hues depart, Like holy hopes that smile in death, And twilight robes the fading sky With beauty felt, not seen beneath The spreading palm, the lover's eye Burns as he tunes his soft guitar, And-sees his own dear maid afar, Approaching her rose-woven bower To solemnize love's sacred hour. And lordly prince and shepherd hind, And lady proud and simple maid Enjoy alike the season kind, When flowers grow lovelier as they fade, And being's joys and sorrows own, And all the heart hath lost or won, 118 Alike ; to all, be state and name Or high or low, heaven is the same, And nature smiles as sweetly on The cottage as the palace throne. Eve shadows dim the varied scene, And the calm sunlight wanes away, While one lone cloud of lustre sheen Still wears the rays of parting day, And hangs upon the zenith sky, Like hope the sad heart lingering by. XIII. Looming in shadowy twilight o'er Tajo's broad bay afar is seen, Scudding the wave toward Lusian shore, A rapid sailing brigantine ; And now it grows upon the eye, White sail, dark hulk, and rising prow ; And swells upon the evening sky Like castle turretted with snow ; And now the hurrying Sea-boys crowd Round the tall mast and furl each shroud, And full the rushing wake is heard Blent with command's shrill-uttered word, And many a heart throbs fondly now To meet its loves and find its home, As the light vessel crinkles slow The waters which no longer foam. The brigantine is moored the crew Are busy, boisterous, glad and gay, And jovial crowds are there ; but who Through the dense throng makes rapid way With look so proudly desolate ? : Tis ZULMA, who hath borne her fate And yet will bear 'till being's close, AH she hath lost and still can lose, With an unshrinking spirit none Can tame or crush ; she is alone In desolation but she bears 119 Her lofty brow unblanched, and throws Around an eye undimmed by tears, And, as she hurries on, she grows Stronger, as if her spirit stood Prepared for woe of all degree, And agony and solitude, And horror, pain and misery. She pauses in a hilly grove And looks with bitter smile below "Ah, such is man's alluring love, " And such his faith in lonely woe !" Then quick she turned and onward went, With hurried footstep, till the towers Of her own convent rose and sent Their omened shadows o'er her ; hours Long past returned and sadness hung On Zulma's heart with that dead weight Which kills the victim, when a young Maid who had known the vestal's flight Traversed her way and quickly told The tragic tale of what had past. Zulma shrieked not, but fiercely rolled O'er brain and heart the worst the last Wild storm of ruin ; hope fell dead, And her high spirit 'neath its own Intensity was crushed ; she said Nothing responsive sigh nor groan, Nor scream nor cry was heard ; she threw Her bleeding eye to heaven and bowed A moment as in prayer then grew As desperation calm ; a crowd, As toward St Clara's towers she went, Followed in mute astonishment That she should thus defy despair And heriown certain ruin dare. Soon ceased their marvel Zulma came Beneath the window of her cell, And upward gazed and spake the name Most dear of her who once did dwell 120 In peace and love within that wall ; Then she looked round and dwelt on all Objects and scenes that Inez erst Loved fondly and she heaved a sigh Convulsively ; her heart had burst ! Yet still she gazed with mournful eye On dusky wall and cypress grove In silence, while the crowd came near ; And fast her soul of light and love Was journeying to a holier sphere. XIV. " Jesu Maria ! who art thou ? "Christ and the Virgin shield us now !" A war-steed dashes through the throng A horseman leaps upon the ground, And rushes like a maniac strong Toward dying Zulma, while around Gather the crowd to mark the scene For one so mournful ne'er had been. Zulma looked up a faint smile passed, Like silvery moonbeam on the wave f O'er lip and eye and then it cast Behind the death hue of the grave. Low bowed the horseman, Julian, there, And fearful was his agony ; He kneeled, like statue of despair, In hopeless, speechless misery ; And long his quivering lips essayed To frame his torturing thoughts in vain, And long he writhed and groaned and prayed In all the energy of pain. " Zulma" he said at last, but wild Came then the memory of his wrong, And how he had the maid beguiled Afar, and held deluded long, And then as wanton thing appraised, And often as his eye he raised 121 To her calm though unbending look, Whose sad reproof he could not brook, He felt abashed, o'erwhelmed and lost To all he loved and prized the most. But life was ebbing fast away From Zulma's broken heart and now, While yet was left a conscious ray Of soul, or ne'er, his words must flow. "Zulma ! forgive the wretch who kneels "Before wronged virtue ! What he feels '"T were vain to say his last desire " Is pardon from thy lips !" The fire Of being, that had sunk and waned In Zulma's bosom, burned again Brightly a moment and there reigned A majesty 'mid all her pain Which daunted Julian, as she strove To rise upon a maiden's breast ; " Prince Julian ! that thou had'st my love, "And that in thine I was most blest, " 'T is needless now to own ; my doom "Is sealed forever a,nd the tomb "Must be the resting-place of one "Who once who yet loves thee alone ; "Thou hast my pardon while I live " Forgive thyself as I forgive !" Backward she fell faint grew her breath Life left her cheek, her brow, her eye ; Slow o'er her heart came chilling death Zulma is in eternity ! There is no tear for Julian none No purpose, pleasure, hope or aim ; Himself detesting, left alone, And hating all that he had done, A wretch what was to him a throne? Outcast from joy, .bereft of love, Abandoned by his peace of mind, 11 122 Wkat should his altered being prove But a deep blot on human kind ? So rolls the tempest of remorse O'er Julian, as beside the corse Of her he loved beyond the scope Of common spirit, feeling, hope, He bows in agony unknown, Save to the few whose hopes and And feelings catch the lofty tone Of thought, that maddens or endears. Night palls the skies, but Julian there Lies broken hearted in Despair. r. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below lOm-ll, '50(2555)470 THE LIBRARY BNTTBRSITY ( ' LO A UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY i| || || || I I I I | A A 000035829 PS Pairfield - 1651 F161 1 of Melpomene PS 16 F161 1