Then for a beam of joy to light In memory's sad and wakeful eye! Or banish from the noon of night Her dreams of deeper agony. Shall song its witching cadence roll? That breath'd when soul was knit to soul, What visions wake! to charm-to melt!The lost, the lov'd, the dead are near! Oh hush that strain too deeply felt! And cease that solace too severe! But thou serenely silent art! By heaven and love wast taught to lend A milder solace to the heart, The sacred image of a friend. All is not lost! if yet possessed, To me that sweet memorial shine: If, close and closer to my breast, I hold that idol all divine. Or, gazing through luxurious tears, Melt o'er the lov'd, departed form, Till death's cold image half appears With life, and speech, and spirit warm. She looks-she lives-this tranced hour, Her bright eye seems a purer gem Than sparkles on the throne of power, Yes, genius, yes! thy mimic aid A treasure to my soul has given, Where beauty's canonized shade Smiles in the sainted hues of heaven. No spectre forms of pleasure fled, Thy soft'ning, sweet'ning, tints restore; For thou canst give us back the dead, E'en in the loveliest looks they wore. Then blest be nature's guardian muse, Whose hand her perish'd grace redeems! Whose tablet of a thousand hues The mirror of creation seems. From love began thy high descent; And call thee brightest of the Nine! THE EXILE OF ERIN. THERE HERE came to the beach a poor exile of Erin; The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill; For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing, To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill. But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion; For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean, Where once in the fire of his youthful emotion, He sung the bold anthem of Erin-go-bragh. 66 Sad is my fate! (said the heart-broken stranger,) The wild deer and wolf to a cover can flee; But I have no refuge from famine and danger, A home and a country remain not to me. |