 | Poems |  |
CANZONET.
O tell me not of frantic hours,
That follow pleasure's tread;
Nor deck the amaranthine bowers,
For hearts, whose ardour's fled.
That follow pleasure's tread;
Nor deck the amaranthine bowers,
For hearts, whose ardour's fled.
Display no more the festive mirth,
When darkness draws her veil,
For revel teems with hideous birth,
Blasphemous cries, diseases pale.
When darkness draws her veil,
For revel teems with hideous birth,
Blasphemous cries, diseases pale.
The hell-kite flaps her raven wing,
And fiends ride on the gale,
Infernal choirs exulting sing,
And tramp the burning vale.
And fiends ride on the gale,
Infernal choirs exulting sing,
And tramp the burning vale.
The dome, where thousand ideots wait
To feast their souls with mimicry,
The scenes that worldly hearts dilate,
Dispand no luring charms for me.
To feast their souls with mimicry,
The scenes that worldly hearts dilate,
Dispand no luring charms for me.
The swelling notes that peal along
The vaulted roof of majesty,
The choir, that chant the sacred song,
And raise the soul to ecstasy;
The vaulted roof of majesty,
The choir, that chant the sacred song,
And raise the soul to ecstasy;
17
The embowering groves of solitude,
Where crystal waters chiming flow,
Where the mind in pensive mood
Hangs on the scenes of heavenly glow;
Where crystal waters chiming flow,
Where the mind in pensive mood
Hangs on the scenes of heavenly glow;
Alone are joys that swell my breast,
And fan devotion's fire,
Charms, that blazon virtue's crest,
And tune an angel's lyre.
And fan devotion's fire,
Charms, that blazon virtue's crest,
And tune an angel's lyre.
Like the vapours that expand
A limpid stream, o'er Afric's plain,
Deluding e'er the wretch, whose hand,
Grasps the shade, and finds it pain;
A limpid stream, o'er Afric's plain,
Deluding e'er the wretch, whose hand,
Grasps the shade, and finds it pain;
The fickle god of pleasure rears
The joyous cup of revelry,
But ah! the chalice swims with tears
Wrung from the eye of agony.
The joyous cup of revelry,
But ah! the chalice swims with tears
Wrung from the eye of agony.
The barbed dart of black despair,
Twanged from the bow of madness,
Will pierce the bosom debonair,
And rankle in its sadness.
Twanged from the bow of madness,
Will pierce the bosom debonair,
And rankle in its sadness.
Then wish me, O, a lone recess,
Where scenes illusive fade,
Where smiles the seraph happiness,
Irradiate through the glade.
Where scenes illusive fade,
Where smiles the seraph happiness,
Irradiate through the glade.
There contemplation will survey
The jasper fields of light,
And pleasure through the live-long day
Will wear her vestments bright.
The jasper fields of light,
And pleasure through the live-long day
Will wear her vestments bright.
18
There will we twine a living wreath
To parted friends—and be forgiven,
Imbibe the glowing Spirits' breath,
And make our bosom—heaven.
To parted friends—and be forgiven,
Imbibe the glowing Spirits' breath,
And make our bosom—heaven.
| Poems | |