University of Virginia Library

Alas! for sombre spirits, on whose gaze
From that dark Eld loom upward endlessly
Huge clouds of sad regretful memories
Not yet dissolved by weeping—on whose brows
The deep-wrung tears fall scaldingly for aye
From wounded hearts in tender mute reproach,
And filtering inward soak the shrinking brain,
And seethe it into madness—sure for them
No lovers' saint from out his vernal shrine
Scatters sweet missives; nor, when circles round
His festal day of freedom, gives them leave
To twine their thoughts in airy phantasies
And passionate dreams of blithest mimic love,
Such as gay youths and merry maidens wreathe—
Like twinkling films of frailest gossamer,
Rich with dense dew and rainbow'd thick with light,
That sheet the lawn at daybreak—wildly round
Each other's hearts, till clearest laughter comes
With morn, to chase the shadowy spells away:
And if for them some bird of purest wing
Should haply on the trellis'd window-sill
Alight, and startle the dull moveless air
Into strange life, warbling delicious notes
Strung by some fair-brow'd stranger far away,—
Speak—for thy woman's heart shall tell thee true—
Should not such spirits to that lingering bird
(Else being bard of such a strain, 'twere caught
And clasp'd too near the heart) in whispers say,
‘Fly! and when next above her fragrant bower
Who sent thee thou shalt droop thy homeward wing,
And half in mute love, half in weariness,
Nestle thy panting bosom close to hers,—
Then, ere its even swell have hush'd thee quite
To slumber, oh, bid Memory sweetly stir
The stillness in thy breast and waken thence
These notes I give to silence and to thee:—