Of lively portraiture display'd,
Softly on my eyelids laid.
And as I wake, sweet music breathe,
Above, about, or underneath.
Sent by some spirit to mortals' good,
Or th' unseen Genius of the wood.
But let my due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloister's pale;
And love the high embowed roof,
With antique pillars massy proof,
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light.
There let the pealing organ blow
To the full-voiced quire below,
In service high, and anthems clear,
As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
Dissolve me into ecstasies,
And bring all heaven before mine eyes.
And may at last my weary age
Find out the peaceful hermitage.
The hairy gown and mossy cell,
Where I may sit and rightly spell
Of every star that heaven doth shew,
And every herb that sips the dew:
Till old experience do attain
To something like prophetic strain.
These pleasures, Melancholy, give,
And I with thee will choose to live.
PASSIONS OF CIVILIZED MAN.
THINK not, school-polish'd man,
That liv'st amid the silken ceremony
Of civilized connexion, and dost quaff
Life like strong wine, and drain'st the gilded cup Of pleasure to the very dregs, that those
Wild deserts and inhospitable wastes,
Where the fierce sunbeam seems to scorch the tear Of pity from the flashing eye, alone
Are big with horror; for within the glare
Of dazzling cities, and 'mid crowds that throng
The temples, halls, and gorgeous palaces,
Which boasted reason builds, and pride sustains,
Dark passion walks abroad in the bright sun;
And in the glow of fashion's midnight splendour,
Strifes, wrongs, and crimes, do live tumultuously
In men with fiendlike hearts, demoniac spirits,
And fierce hyena natures.- -Raise the veil,
My trembling hand; and, oh! let fashion, pride,
And rank, behold! Look at yon piteous thing!
Once beautiful as Hebe, on whose form
The bright eye wept in ecstasy of joy,
And in whose gentle bosom early love
Slept like the fires on Hecla's burning hill,
Wrapt in the chastity of snows; but now
How dim her eye, how pale her cheek, how dried
With potent sorrow and dark grief the breast,
First worshipp'd, and then wrong'd, and spurn'd,
and loathed,
And left to perish in increase of crime,
Multiplying through the dark infinitude
Of guilt and horror.-Tell me, then, ye vain,
Is there a beast in Afric's burning soil,
Though full-gorged with the blood of innocents, Like the fell monster that could make such ruin?
Behold yon smiling wretch, who stands above
The prostrate body of his early friend;
First he defiled the idol of his heart,
Then pierced that heart with steel he had before
Sear'd with accursed deeds. And what is, then,
The savage who drinks reeking blood, and eats
The flesh of his fierce foe in joyful rage,
To one of fashion's darling children, seen
So black in heart, so gorgon-like in mind?
No more!-the soul shrinks back with horror. Oh!
Ye wretched, thoughtless, heartless multitudes,
That over unsophisticated nature
Pretend to shudder. Oh! be still, be still;
First quell the strife, the tumult, rack, and rage,
Of thy innumerable and mighty cities;
Be the loud song of phrensied triumph hush'd,
And be the flesh-gorged sword of ghastly war
In pity sheath'd. Black stalker in the gloom
Of ruffian midnight, hold thy desperate hand!
Look up, look up, O Vengeance! deign to raise
Thy burning eye-ball from the thirsty steel,
And wipe that passionate foam and frothy rage
From thy parch'd lips. Down, down, rebellious
flow
Of the hot blood,-shrink up, thou bitter gall,-
Lie still, envenom'd tongue: hold hand, hold heart,
From deeds most devilish; and every wild,
And mad, and drunken energy of flesh,
The rush and war of mortal elements
Against the Godhead,-pause!
DEATHLESS AFFECTION.
"OH! let me only breathe the air,
The blessed air, that's breathed by thee,
And, whether on its wings it bear
Healing or death, 'tis sweet to me!
There, drink my tears, while yet they fall,—
Would that my bosom's blood were balm,
And, well thou know'st I'd shed it all,
To give thy brow one minute's calm.
Nay, turn not from me that dear face,
Am I not thine, thy own lov'd bride,
The one, the chosen one, whose place
In life or death is by thy side!
Think'st thou that she, whose only light
In this dim world from thee hath shone,
Could bear the long, the cheerless night,
That must be hers, when thou art gone?-
That I can live, and let thee go,
Who art my life itself? No, no!
When the stem dies, the leaf that grew
Out of its heart must perish too!
Then turn to me, my own love, turn,
Before, like thee, I fade and burn;
Cling to these yet cool lips, and share
The last pure life that lingers there!"
She fails-she sinks-as dies the lamp
In charnel airs, or cavern damp,
So quickly do his baleful sighs
Quench all the sweet light of her eyes!
One struggle-and this pain is past.
FRIENDSHIP.
MANY sounds were sweet,
Most ravishing, and pleasant to the ear;
But sweeter none than voice of faithful friends-
Sweet always, sweetest heard in loudest storm.
Some I remember, and will ne'er forget,
My early friends, friends of my evil day;
Friends in my mirth, friends in my misery too;
Friends given by God in mercy and in love;
My counsellors, my comforters, and guides;
My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy;
Companions of my young desires; in doubt,
My oracles, my wings in high pursuit.
Oh! I remember, and will ne'er forget,
Our meeting sports, our chosen sacred hours;
Our burning words, that uttered all the soul;
Our faces beaming with unearthly love;
Sorrow with sorrow sighing, hope with hope
Exulting, heart embracing heart entire.
As birds of social feather helping each
His fellow's flight, we soar'd into the skies,
And cast the clouds beneath our feet, and earth,
With all her tardy leaden-footed cares,
And talk'd the speech, and ate the food, of heaven.
I DWELL in groves that gilt are with the sun,
Sit on the banks by which clear waters run;
In summers hot, down in a shade I lie,
My music is the buzzing of a fly;
I walk in meadows, where grows fresh green grass, In fields, where corn is high, I often pass;
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