Phantasmion :: :: University of Virginia Library

See the bright stranger!
On wings of enchantment,
See how he soars!
Eagles! that high on the crest of the mountain,
Beyond where the cataracts gush from their fountain,
Look out o'er the sea and her glistering shores,
Cast your sun-gazing eyes on his pinions of light!
Behold how he glitters
Transcendantly bright!

Whither, ah whither,
To what lofty region
His course will he bend?
See him! O, see him! the clouds overtaking,
As tho' the green earth he were blithely forsaking;
Ah now, in swift circles behold him descend!
Now again like a meteor he shoots through the sky,
Or a star glancing upward,
To sparkle on high!

[Tho' I be young—ah! well-a-day!]

Tho' I be young—ah! well-a-day!
I cannot love these opening flowers;
For they have each a kindly spray

To shelter them from suns and showers;
But I may pine, oppressed with grief,
Robbed of my dear protecting leaf.

Since thou art gone, my mother sweet,
I weep to see the fledgling doves
Close nestling in a happy seat,
Each beside the breast it loves;
While I, uncared for, sink to rest,
Far, far from my fond mother's breast.

Sweet mother! in thy blessed sight
I too might blossom full and free;
Heaven then would beam with softer light;
But, could I rest upon thy knee
My drooping head, what need I care
How sickly pale and wan I were?

My face I view in pools and brooks,
When garish suns full brightly shine;
Ah! me! think I, those blooming looks,
And that smooth brow can ne'er be mine!
Sad heart! I charge thee to express
More truly all thy deep distress.

Deceitful roses leave my cheek,
Soft lilies join those happy flowers,
Which nothing stirs but zephyr meek,
Which nought oppresses but sweet showers;
While she lies dead I grieve to be
More like those living flowers than she.

O, what to me are landscapes green,
With groves and vineyards sprinkled o'er,
And gardens where gay plants are seen
To form a daily changing floor?
I dream of waters and of waves,
The tide which thy sea-dwelling laves.

Dearly I love the hours of night,
When bashful stars have leave to shine;
For all my visions rise in light,
While sun-lit spectacles decline;
And with those stars they fade away,
Or look as glow-worms look by day.

[Sylvan stag, securely play]

Sylvan stag, securely play,
'Tis the sportful month of May,
Till her music dies away
Fear no huntsman's hollo;
While the cowslip nods her head,
While the fragrant blooms are shed
O'er the turf which thou dost tread,
None thy traces follow.

In the odours wafted round,
Those that breathe from thee are drowned;
Echo voices not a sound,
Fleet one, to dismay thee;

On the budding beeches browse,
None shall come the deer to rouse;
Scattered leaves and broken boughs
Shall not now betray thee.

Sylvan deer! on branches fed,
'Mid the countless branches bred,
Mimic branches on thy head
With the rest are springing;
Smooth them on the russet bark,
Or the stem of cypress dark,
From whose top the woodland lark
Soars to heaven singing.

Bound along or else be still,
Sportive roebuck, at thy will;
Wilding rose and woodbine fill
All the grove with sweetness
Safely may thy gentle roe
O'er the piny hillocks go,
Every white-robed torrent's flow
Rivalling in fleetness.

Peaceful breaks for thee the dawn,
While thou lead'st thy skipping fawn,
Gentle hind, across the lawn
In the forest spreading:
Morn appears in sober vest,
Nor hath eve in roses drest,
By her purple hues exprest,
Aught of thy blood-shedding.

Milk-white doe, 'tis but the breeze
Rustling in the alder trees;
Slumber thou while honey-bees
Lull thee with their humming;
Though the ringdove's plaintive moan
Seem to tell of pleasure flown,
On thy couch with blossoms sown,
Fear no peril coming.

Thou amid the lilies laid,
Seem'st in lily vest array'd,
Fann'd by gales which they have made
Sweet with their perfuming;
Primrose tufts impearl'd with dew;
Bells which heav'n has steep'd in blue
Lend the breeze their odours too,
All around thee blooming.

None shall come to scare thy dreams,
Save perchance the playful gleams;
Wake to quaff the cooling streams
Of the sunlit river;
Thou across the faithless tide
Needest not for safety glide,
Nor thy panting bosom hide
Where the grasses shiver.

When the joyous months are past,
Roses pine in autumn's blast,
When the violets breathe their last,
All that's sweet is flying:
Then the sylvan deer must fly,
'Mid the scatter'd blossoms lie,
Fall with falling leaves and die
When the flow'rs are dying.

[One face alone, one face alone]

One face alone, one face alone,
These eyes require;
But, when that longed-for sight is shewn,
What fatal fire
Shoots through my veins a keen and liquid flame,
That melts each fibre of my wasting frame!

One voice alone, one voice alone,
I pine to hear;
But, when its meek mellifluous tone
Usurps mine ear,
Those slavish chains about my soul are wound,
Which ne'er, till death itself, can be unbound.

One gentle hand, one gentle hand,
I fain would hold;
But, when it seems at my command,
My own grows cold;
Then low to earth I bend in sickly swoon,
Like lilies drooping 'mid the blaze of noon.

[Deem not that our eldest heir]

Deem not that our eldest heir
Wins too much of love and care;
What a parent's heart can spare,
Who can measure truly?
Early crops were never found
To exhaust that fertile ground,
Still with riches 'twill abound,
Ever springing newly.

See in yonder plot of flowers
How the tallest lily towers,
Catching beams and kindly showers,
Which the heav'ns are shedding:
While the younger plants below
Less of suns and breezes know,
Till beyond the shade they grow,
High and richly spreading.

She that latest leaves the nest,
Little fledgeling much carest,
Is not therefore loved the best,
Though the most protected;
Nor the gadding daring child,
Oft reproved for antics wild,
Of our tenderness beguiled,
Or in thought neglected.

'Gainst the islet's rocky shore
Waves are beating evermore,
Yet with blooms 'tis scattered o'er,
Decked in softest lustre:
Nature favours it no less
Than the guarded still recess,
Where the birds for shelter press,
And the hare-bells cluster.

[While the storm her bosom scourges]

While the storm her bosom scourges,
What can calm a troubled sea?
Will the heaving dashing surges
Tranquil through persuasion be?
Rest, my soul, like frozen ocean!
Let thy wavy tumult sleep!
Rise no more in vexed commotion,
Heedless where the gale may sweep.

Clouds that have the light partaken,
Round yon radiant planet rolled,
Lingering in the west forsaken,
Soon shall glimmer, wan and cold:
All our thoughts are gay and golden,
While the sun of hope they shroud;
Those bright beams no more beholden,
Turn again to watery cloud.

He that scorns the smiling valley,
Fragrant copse and gentle stream,
Forth for distant heights to sally,
Whence deceptive colours gleam;
Late shall find that cold and dreary,
'Tis but from afar they glow,
Shall not, when his feet are weary,
Win the blossomed vale below.

[Many a fountain cool and shady]

Many a fountain cool and shady
May the traveller's eye invite;
One among them all, sweet lady,
Seems to flow for his delight:
In many a tree the wilding bee
Might safely hide her honeyed store;
One hive alone the bee will own,
She may not trust her sweets to more.

Say'st thou, “Can that maid be fairer?
“Shows her lip a livelier dye?
“Hath she treasures richer, rarer?
“Can she better love than I?”
What form'd the spell, I ne'er could tell,
But subtle must its working be,
Since, from the hour, I felt its pow'r,
No fairer face I wish to see.

Light wing'd Zephyr, ere he settles
On the loveliest flower that blows,
Never stays to count thy petals,
Dear, delicious, fragrant rose!—

Her features bright elude my sight,
I know not how her tresses lie;
In fancy's maze my spirit plays,
When she with all her charms is night.

[The captive bird with ardour sings]

The captive bird with ardour sings,
Where no fond mate rewards the strain,
Yet, sure, to chant some solace brings,
Although he chants in vain:
But I my thoughts in bondage keep,
Lest he should hear who ne'er will heed,
And none shall see the tears I weep,
With whom 'twere vain to plead.

No glossy breast, no quivering plume,
Like fan unfurl'd to tempt the eye,
Reminds the prisoner of his doom,
Apart, yet all too night:
O would that in some shrouded place
I too were prisoned fancy free,
And ne'er had seen that beaming face,
Which ne'er will beam on me!

When kindred birds fleet o'er the wave,
From yellow woods to green ones fly,

The captive hears the wild winds rave
Beneath a wint'ry sky!
And, when my loved one hence shall fleet,
Bleak, bleak will yonder heav'n appear,
The flowers will droop, no longer sweet,
And every leaf be sere.

116

[The sun may speed or loiter on his way]

The sun may speed or loiter on his way,
May veil his face in clouds or brightly glow;
Too fast he moved to bring one fatal day,
I ask not now if he be swift or slow.

I have a region, bathed in joyous beams,
Where he hath never gilded fruit or flower,
Hath ne'er lit up the glad perennial streams,
Nor tinged the foliage of an Autumn bower.

Then hail the twilight cave, the silent dell,
That boast no beams, no music of their own;
Bright pictures of the past around me dwell,
Where nothing whispers that the past is flown.

[Grief's heavy hand hath sway'd the lute]

Grief's heavy hand hath sway'd the lute;
'Tis henceforth mute:
Though pleasure woo, the strings no more respond
To touches light as fond,
Silenced as if by an enchanter's wand.

117

Do thou brace up each slackened chord,
Love, gentle lord;
Then shall the lute pour grateful melodies
On every breeze,
Strains that celestial choristers may please.

120

[Life and light, Anthemna bright]

Life and light, Anthemna bright,
Ere thy knell these rocks shall ring,
Joy and power, a gladdening dower,
Thou shalt shower on Palmland's king.
Floor of coral, roof of beryl,
Thou shalt find afar from peril,
While thy lovely child is dwelling
Where the palm and vine are swelling,
Crystal streams around her welling,
All the land her virtue telling.
Life and light, Anthemna bright,
Thou to Palmland's king art bringing:
Richest dower, fairest flower
Is from thee for Palmland springing.

141

[O sleep, my babe, hear not the rippling wave]

O sleep, my babe, hear not the rippling wave,
Nor feel the breeze that round thee lingering strays,
To drink thy balmy breath,
And sigh one long farewell.

Soon shall it mourn above thy wat'ry bed,
And whisper to me, on the wave-beat shore,
Deep murm'ring in reproach,
Thy sad untimely fate.

Ere those dear eyes had open'd on the light,
In vain to plead, thy coming life was sold,
O! wakened but to sleep,
Whence it can wake no more!

A thousand and a thousand silken leaves
The tufted beech unfolds in early spring,
All clad in tenderest green,
All of the self same shape:

A thousand infant faces, soft and sweet,
Each year sends forth, yet every mother views
Her last not least beloved
Like its dear self alone.

No musing mind hath ever yet foreshaped
The face to-morrow's sun shall first reveal,
No heart hath e'er conceived
What love that face will bring.

O sleep, my babe, nor heed how mourns the gale
To part with thy soft locks and fragrant breath,
As when it deeply sighs
O'er autumn's latest bloom.

148

[How gladsome is a child, and how perfect is his mirth]

How gladsome is a child, and how perfect is his mirth,
How brilliant to his eye are the daylight shews of earth!

149

But Oh! how black and strange are the shadows in his sight,
What phantoms hover round him in the darkness of the night!

Away, ye gloomy visions, I charge ye hence away,
Nor scare the simple heart that without ye were so gay;
Alas! when you are gone with all your ghastly crew,
What sights of glowing splendour will fade away with you!

He'll see the gloomy sky, and know 'tis here decreed,
That sunshine follow every storm, and light to shade succeed,
No more he'll dread the tempest, nor tremble in the dark,
Nor soar on wings of fancy far beyond the soaring lark.

I love thee, little brother, when smiles are on thy face,
I love thy eager merriment, thy never failing grace:
But when the shadow darkens thee and chills thy timid breast,
I'd watch from eve till daybreak that thou might'st be at rest.

157

[I tremble when with look benign]

I tremble when with look benign
Thou tak'st my offer'd hand in thine,
Lest passion-breathing words of mine
The charm should break:
And friendly smiles be forced to fly,
Like soft reflections of the sky,
Which, when rude gales are sweeping by,
Desert the lake.

Of late I saw thee in a dream,
The day-star pour'd his hottest beam,
And thou, a cool refreshing stream,
Didst brightly run:
The trees where thou wert pleased to flow,
Swell'd out their flowers, a glorious show,
While I, too distant doom'd to grow,
Pined in the sun.

By no life-giving moisture fed,
A wasted tree, I bow'd my head,

158

My sallow leaves and blossoms shed
On earth's green breast:
And silent pray'd the slumbering wind,
The lake, thy tarrying place, might find,
And waft my leaves, with breathings kind,
There, there, to rest.

165

[Ne'er ask where knaves are mining.]

Ne'er ask where knaves are mining.
While the nectar plants are twining:
To pull up the vine
They never incline,
With all their deep designing.

O ne'er for the dead sit weeping,
Their graves the dews are steeping:

166

And founts of mirth
Spring up from the earth,
Where they are at peace and sleeping.

Away with studious learning,
When heaven's bright lamps are burning:
In the glorious art
That gladdens the heart,
We cannot be more discerning.

Forget the blood that gushes
Where the fiery war-horse rushes:
The blood that glows,
As it brightly flows,
Is making us chant like thrushes.

When burden'd troops, advancing,
In cumbrous mail are glancing,
With garlands crown'd
We reel around,
While the earth and sky are dancing.

170

[How high yon lark is heavenward borne!]

How high yon lark is heavenward borne!
Yet, ere again she hails the morn,
Beyond where birds can wing their way
Our souls may soar to endless day,
May hear the heavenly quires rejoice,
While earth still echoes to her voice.

A waveless flood, supremely bright,
Has drown'd the myriad isles of light;
But ere, that ocean ebb'd away,
The shadowy gulf their forms betray,
Above the stars our course may run,
'Mid beams unborrow'd from the sun.

In this day's light what flowers will bloom,
What insects quit the self-made womb!
But ere the bud its leaves unfold,
The gorgeous fly his plumes of gold,

171

On fairer wings we too may glide,
Where youth and joy no ills betide.

Then come, while yet we linger here,
Fit thoughts for that celestial sphere,
A heart which, under keenest light,
May bear the gaze of spirits bright,
Who all things know, and nought endure
That is not holy, just, and pure.

174

175

[Newts and blindworms do no wrong]

Newts and blindworms do no wrong,
Spotted snakes from guilt are clear;
Smiles and sighs, a dang'rous throng,
Gentle spirit, these I fear;
Guard me from those looks of light,
Which only shine to blast the sight.

Serpents' tongues have ne'er been known
Simple maid from peace to sever,
But the voice whose thrilling tone
Tells of love that lasts for ever,
Gentle spirit—

176

Beetles black will never charm me,
Spiders weave no snares for me,
Thorny hedge-hogs cannot harm me,
But the brow where heaven I see,
Catching beams from sunny eyes,—
Guard me from that bright disguise!

177

[The winds were whispering, the waters glistering]

The winds were whispering, the waters glistering,
A bay-tree shaded a sun-lit stream;
Blasts came blighting, the bay-tree smiting,
When leaf and flower, like a morning dream,
Vanished full suddenly.

The winds yet whisper, the waters glister,
And softly below the bay-tree glide;
Vain is their cherishing, for, slowly perishing,
It doth but cumber the river side,
Leafless in summer-time,

189

[False Love, too long thou hast delay'd]

False Love, too long thou hast delay'd,
Too late I make my choice;
Yet win for me that precious maid,
And bid my heart rejoice,
Then shall mine eyes shoot youthful fire,
My cheek with triumph glow,
And other maids that glance desire,
Which I on one bestow.

Make her with smile divinely bland
Beam sunshine o'er my face,
And Time shall touch with gentlest hand
What she hath deign'd to grace;
O'er scanty locks full wreaths I'll wear;
No wrinkled brow to shade,
For joy will smooth the furrows there,
Which earlier griefs have made.

Though sports of youth be tedious toil,
When youth has pass'd away,
I'll cast aside the martial spoil
With her light locks to play;

190

Yea turn, sweet maid, from tented field
To rove where dewdrops shine,
Nor care what hand the sceptre wield,
So thou wilt grant me thine.

235

[He came unlook'd for, undesir'd]

He came unlook'd for, undesir'd,
A sun-rise in the northern sky:
More than the brightest dawn admir'd,
To shine and then for ever fly.

His love, conferr'd without a claim,
Perchance was like the fitful blaze,

236

Which lives to light a steadier flame,
And, while that strengthens, fast decays.

Glad fawn along the forest springing,
Gay birds that breeze-like stir the leaves,
Why hither haste, no message bringing,
To solace one that deeply grieves?

Thou star that dost the skies adorn,
So brightly heralding the day,
Bring one more welcome than the morn,
Or still in night's dark prison stay.

240

[Yon changeful cloud will soon thy aspect wear]

Yon changeful cloud will soon thy aspect wear
So bright it grows:—and now, by light winds shaken,
O ever seen yet ne'er to be o'ertaken!
Those waving branches seem thy billowy hair.
The cypress glades recall thy pensive air;
Slow rills, that wind like snakes amid the grass,
Thine eye's mild sparkle fling me as they pass,
Yet murmuring cry, This fruitless quest forbear!
Nay e'en amid the cataract's loud storm,
Where foamy torrents from the crags are leaping,
Methinks I catch swift glimpses of thy form,
Thy robe's light folds in airy tumult sweeping;
Then silent are the falls: 'mid colours warm
Gleams the bright maze beneath their splendour sleeping.

248

[I was a brook in straitest channel pent]

I was a brook in straitest channel pent,
Forcing 'mid rocks and stones my toilsome way,
A scanty brook in wandering well nigh spent;

249

But now with thee, rich stream, conjoin'd I stray,
Through golden meads the river sweeps along,
Murmuring its deep full joy in gentlest undersong.

I crept through desert moor and gloomy glade,
My waters ever vex'd, yet sad and slow,
My waters ever steep'd in baleful shade:
But, whilst with thee, rich stream, conjoin'd I flow,
E'en in swift course the river seems to rest,
Blue sky, bright bloom, and verdure imag'd on its breast.

And, whilst with thee I roam through regions bright,
Beneath kind love's serene and gladsome sky,
A thousand happy things that seek the light,
Till now in darkest shadow forc'd to lie,
Up through the illumin'd waters nimbly run,
To shew their forms and hues in the all revealing sun.

256

[By the storm invaded]

By the storm invaded
Ere thy arch was wrought,
Rainbow, thou hast faded
Like a gladsome thought,
And ne'er mayst shine aloft in all earth's colours fraught.

257

Insect tranced for ever
In thy pendent bed,
Which the breezes sever
From its fragile thread,
Thou ne'er shalt burst thy cell and crumpled pinions spread.

Lily born and nourish'd
'Mid the waters cold,
Where thy green leaves flourish'd,
On the sunburnt mould
How canst thou rear thy stem and sallow buds unfold?

Snowy cloud suspended
O'er the orb of light,
With its radiance blended
Ne'er to glisten bright,
It sinks, and thou grow'st black beneath the wings of night.

272

[I thought by tears thy soul to move]

I thought by tears thy soul to move,
Since smiles had proved in vain;
But I from thee nor smiles of love,
Nor tears of pity gain:
Now, now I could not smile perforce
A sceptred queen to please:
Yet tears will take th' accustom'd course
Till time their fountain freeze.

My life is dedicate to thee,
My service wholly thine:
But what fair fruit can grace the tree
Till suns vouchsafe to shine?
Thou art my sun, thy looks are light,
O cast me not in shade!
Beam forth ere summer takes its flight,
And all my honours fade.

When, torn by sudden gusty flaw,
The fragile harp lies mute,
Its tenderest tones the wind can draw
From many another lute;
But when this beating heart lies still,
Each chord relax'd in death,
What other shall so deeply thrill,
So tremble at thy breath?

287

[Blest is the tarn which towering cliffs o'ershade]

Blest is the tarn which towering cliffs o'ershade,
Which, cradled deep within the mountain's breast,
Nor voices loud, nor dashing oars invade:
Yet e'en the tarn enjoys no perfect rest,
For oft the angry skies her peace molest,
With them she frowns, gives back the lightning's glare,
Then rages wildly in the troubled air.

This calmer lake, which potent spells protect,
Lies dimly slumbering through the fires of day,
And when yon skies, with chaste resplendence deck'd,
Shine forth in all their stateliest array,
O then she wakes to glitter bright as they,
And view the face of heaven's benignant queen
Still looking down on hers with smile serene!

What cruel cares the maiden's heart assail,
Who loves, but fears no deep felt love to gain,
Or, having gain'd it, fears that love will fail!
My power can soothe to rest her wakeful pain,
Till none but calm delicious dreams remain,
And, while sweet tears her easy pillow steep,
She yields that dream of bliss to ever welcome sleep.

295

[What means that darkly-working brow]

What means that darkly-working brow,
Melledina?
Whose heart-strings art thou wresting now,
Melledina?
The dearest pleasure follows pain,
But thou with grief shalt aye remain,
And for thyself hast forged the chain,
Melledina!

Ah, dream of sullen skies no more,
Sad Leucoia!
The roughest ocean hath a shore,
Sweet Leucoia!
A steadfast shore the billows kiss,
And oft some fancied joy to miss,
Prepares the heart for higher bliss,
Young Leucoia!

309

[Methought I wander'd dimly on]

Methought I wander'd dimly on,
But few faint stars above me shone,
When Love drew near:
“The night,” said he, “is dark and damp,
To guide thy steps receive this lamp
Of crystal clear.”

Love lent his torch,—with ready hand
The splendid lamp by his command
I strove to light;
But strove in vain; no flame arose,
Unchanged, unfired as moonlit snows,
It sparkled bright.

Again on wings as swift as thought
The boy a glittering cresset brought
Of sunny gold:
Full sure 'twas worth a monarch's gaze,
And how I toil'd to make it blaze
Can scarce be told.

Deprived of hope I stood perplex'd,
And, through my tears, what offer'd next
Obscurely floated:
One other lamp Love bade me take,
Mine eye its colour, size or make,
But little noted;

Till soon, (what joys my soul inspire!)
From far within a steady fire
Soft upward steals;
And O how many a tender hue,

310

What lines to loveliest nature true,
That beam reveals!

Now what reck I of burnish'd gold,
Or crystal cast in statelier mould?—
This lamp be mine,
Which makes my path where'er I go,
With warm reflected colours glow,
And light divine.

341

[“The spring returns, and balmy budding flow'rs]

“The spring returns, and balmy budding flow'rs
Revive in memory all my childish hours,
When pleasures were as bright and fresh, though brief,
As petals of the May or silken leaf.

But now when kingcups ope their golden eyes,
I see my darling's brighten with surprise,
And rival tints that little cheek illume
When eglantine displays her richest bloom.

Dear boy! thou art thy mother's vernal flow'r,
Sweeter than those she loved in childhood's hour,
And spring renews my earliest ecstasy,
By bringing buds and fresh delights for thee.”

343

[Full oft before some gorgeous fane]

Full oft before some gorgeous fane
The youngling heifer bleeds and dies;

344

Her life-blood issuing forth amain,
While wreaths of incense climb the skies.

The mother wanders all around,
Through shadowy grove and lightsome glade;
Her foot-marks on the yielding ground
Will prove what anxious quest she made.

The stall where late her darling lay
She visits oft with eager look:
In restless movements wastes the day,
And fills with cries each neighbouring nook.

She roams along the willowy copse,
Where purest waters softly gleam:
But ne'er a leaf or blade she crops,
Nor couches by the gliding stream.

No youthful kine, though fresh and fair,
Her vainly searching eyes engage;
No pleasant fields relieve her care,
No murmuring streams her grief assuage.

348

[See yon blithe child that dances in our sight!]

See yon blithe child that dances in our sight!
Can gloomy shadows fall from one so bright?
Fond mother, whence these fears?
While buoyantly he rushes o'er the lawn,
Dream not of clouds to stain his manhood's dawn,
Nor dim that sight with tears.

No cloud he spies in brightly glowing hours,
But feels as if the newly vested bowers
For him could never fade:
Too well we know that vernal pleasures fleet,
But having him, so gladsome, fair, and sweet,
Our loss is overpaid.

Amid the balmiest flowers that earth can give
Some bitter drops distil, and all that live
A mingled portion share;
But, while he learns these truths which we lament,
Such fortitude as ours will sure be sent,
Such solace to his care.

361

[Their armour is flashing]

Their armour is flashing,
And ringing and clashing,

362

Their looks are wild and savage!
With deeds of night
They have darken'd the light,
They are come from reckless ravage!
O bountiful Earth,
With famine and dearth,
With plague and fire surround them;
Thy womb they have torn
With impious scorn;
Let its tremblings now confound them!
Our cause maintain,
For as dew to the plain,
Or wind to the slumbering sea,
Or sunny sheen
To woodlands green,
So dear have we been to thee.

The new-blown flowers,
From thy fairest bowers,
Their rifling hands have taken;
And the tree's last crop,
That was ready to drop,
From the boughs have rudely shaken;
Through deep green dells,
Where the bright stream wells,
Like diamond with emerald blending;
Through shelter'd vales,
Where the light wind sails,
High cedars scarcely bending;
Through lawn and grove,
Where the wild deer rove,
They have rush'd like a burning flood:
For morning's beam,
Or the starry gleam,
Came fire, and sword, and blood.

Then lend us thy might,
Great Earth, for the fight,

363

O help us to quell their pride:
Make our sinews and bones
As firm as the stones,
And metals that gird thy side;
May the smould'ring mountains,
And fiery fountains
Inflame our vengeful ire,
And beasts that lurk
In thy forests murk,
Their tameless rage inspire;
While from caves of death
Let a sluggish breath
O'er the spoilers' spirits creep;
O send to their veins
The chill that reigns
In thy channels dark and deep.

But if those we abhor
Must triumph in war,
Let us sink to thy inmost centre,
Where the trump's loud sound,
Nor the tramp and the bound,
Nor the conqueror's shout can enter;
Let mountainous rocks,
By earthquake shocks,
High o'er our bones be lifted;
And piles of snow,
Where we sleep below,
To the plains above be drifted;
If the murderous band
Must dwell in the land,
And the fields we loved to cherish,
From the land of balm
Let cedar and palm
With those that rear'd them perish.

376

[Ah, where lie now those locks that lately stream'd]

Ah, where lie now those locks that lately stream'd
'Mid gales that fann'd in vain the fever'd cheek?
Low let them rest, ye winds,
The heart now rests in peace.

How vainly, while the tortur'd bosom heav'd,
Restless as waves that lash'd her sea-beat haunt,
We strove to cool that cheek
Which death too quickly chill'd!

Like wreaths of mist, that some lone rock o'erhang,
And seem intent to melt the crags away,
While with soft veil they hide
Its tempest-riven head;

We hover'd round thee on the lonesome beach,
And sought to calm thy brow with dewy hand,
Thy wild unquiet eye
With pitying glances met.

“O fly with us,” we whisper'd; “from glad hearts,
From mirthful bands that meet on moon-light shores,
We came to watch thee pace
This melancholy strand.

“A captive thou, an exile here confin'd;
But fatal passion to more galling chains,
To exile more unblest,
Thy blinded spirit dooms.

“O fly with us; no dangerous choice we know,
Mild heavenly influence guides our gentle lives,
Obedient as yon tide,
Sway'd by the circling moon.

“O fly with us, free, free as ocean gale,
To roam at large, releas'd from sorrow's power.”—
Ah no!—far happier scenes,
More blissful change, be thine!

377

Through fields of radiance let thy spirit stray,
While these fair relics, shrin'd in ocean's depth,
Shall gleam like purest pearl,
Caress'd by winds and waves.

381

[Poor is the portrait that one look portrays]

Poor is the portrait that one look portrays,
It mocks the face on which we lov'd to gaze;
A thousand past expressions all combin'd,
The mind itself depictur'd by the mind,

382

That face contains which in the heart is shrin'd.
Yet, dearest mother, if on lasting brass
Thy very self to future times might pass,
Ill could I bear such monument to build
For future times with dearer memories fill'd:
Ah no! thy fadeless portrait in my breast
From earth shall vanish when I sink to rest;
But, ere to join thee on glad wings I go,
Thy sun-like influence, beaming here below,
In sorrow's hour, when earthly hope betrays me,
To heav'n above, my hope's best aim, shall raise me,
In hours of bliss when heav'n almost seems here,
For thy sweet memory claim the tribute tear;
So yon bright orb doth tearful incense gain
From glittering lake, swift rill, and humid plain,
Yet dries the spray that trembled in the shower,
And shines reflected from each dripping flower.