We are not happy, sweet! our state

Is strange and full of doubt and fear; More need of words that ills abate ;Reserve or censure come not near Our sacred friendship, lest there be No solace left for thee and me.

Gentle and good and mild thou art,
Nor can I live if thee appear
Aught but thyself, or turn thine heart
Away from me, or stoop to wear
The mask of scorn, although it be
To hide the love thou feelst for me.

LINES.

FAR, far away, O ye
Halcyons of Memory!
Seek some far calmer nest
Than this abandoned breast;
No news of your false spring
To my heart's winter bring:
Once having gone, in vain
Ye come again.

Vultures, who build your bowers
High in the future's towers!

Withered hopes on hopes are spread;
Dying joys, choked by the dead,
Will serve your beaks for prey
Many a day.

SONG.

RARELY, rarely, comest thou,
Spirit of Delight!

Wherefore hast thou left me now

Many a day and night?

Many a weary night and day "Tis since thou art fled away.

How shall ever one like me
Win thee back again?
With the joyous and the free
Thou wilt scoff at pain.
Spirit false thou hast forgot

All but those who need thee not.

As a lizard with the shade

Of a trembling leaf,

Thou with sorrow art dismayed;

Even the sighs of grief

Reproach thee, that thou art not near, And reproach thou wilt not hear.

Let me set my mournful ditty
To a merry measure :

Thou wilt never come for pity,

Thou wilt come for pleasure;

Pity then will cut away

Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.

I love all that thou lovest,

Spirit of Delight!

The fresh Earth in new leaves drest,
And the starry night;

Autumn evening, and the morn
When the golden mists are born.

I love snow, and all the forms
Of the radiant frost;

I love waves, and winds, and storms,
Every thing almost

Which is Nature's, and may be

Untainted by man's misery;

I love tranquil solitude,

And such society

As is quiet, wise, and good:

Between thee and me

What difference? but thou dost possess The things I seek, not love them less.

I love Love-though he has wings,
And like light can flee,

But, above all other things,

Spirit, I love thee;

Thou art love and life! O come,

Make once more my heart thy home.

A FRAGMENT.

As a violet's gentle eye
Gazes on the azure sky,

Until its hue grows like what it beholds;
As a gray and empty mist
Lies like solid amethyst,

Over the western mountain it enfolds,
When the sunset sleeps
Upon its snow;

As a strain of sweetest sound Wraps itself the wind around, Until the voiceless wind be music too; As aught dark, vain and dull, Basking in what is beautiful,

Is full of light and love.

ΤΟ

MUSIC, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;

Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken ;

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.

LINES

WRITTEN ON HEARING THE NEWS OF THE DEATH

OF NAPOLEON.

WHAT! alive and so bold, O Earth?

Art thou not over-bold?

What! leapest thou forth as of old

In the light of thy morning mirth,
The last of the flock of the starry fold?
Ha! lea best thou forth as of old?

Are not the limbs still when the ghost is fled,
And canst thou move, Napoleon being dead?

How! is not thy quick heart cold?

What spark is alive on thy hearth?