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Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song,
9 Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among: Beneath them sit the agèd men, wise guardians of the poor. Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
ON AN ANTIQUE GEM BEARING THE HEADS OF
PERICLES AND ASPASIA.
When Athens was the land of fame;
When each was like a living flame;
His sovereignty was held or won :
Loved—but as freemen love alone,
Then eloquence first flashed below;
A woman sits with eye sublime,-
But, if their solemn love were crime,
He perished, but his wreath was won
He perished in his height of fame; Then sunk the cloud on Athens' sun,
Yet still she conquered in his name.
And feed his sacred flame.
Beside the ruined tower.
My own dear Genevieve !
Amid the lingering light.
The songs that make her grieve.
That ruin wild and hoary.
She listened with a flitting blush,
But gaze upon her face.
The Lady of the Land.
Interpreted my own.
Too fondly on her face.
Nor rested day nor night;
In green and sunny glade,-
This miserable Knight!
The Lady of the Land ;
And how she wept, and clasped his knees,
The scorn that crazed his brain ;
And that she nursed him in a cave;
A dying man he lay ;-
Disturbed her soul with pity!
The rich and balmy eve;
Subdued and cherished long !
I heard her breathe my name.
She fled to me and wept.
And gazed upon my face.
'Twas partly love, and partly fear, And partly 'twas a bashful art, That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.
I calmed her fears, and she was calm,
95 My bright and beauteous Bride.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace, Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face ; Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
But tell of days in goodness spent,