Things of the lightning-pinion, wont to dwell
High o'er the reach of eagles, and to find
Joy in the rush of storms, -even such a doom
Was that high minstrel's in his dungeon-gloom.

But he was free at last!-the glorious land
Of the white Alps and pine-crowned Apennines,
Along whose shore the sapphire seas expand,
And the wastes teem with myrtle, and the shrines
Of long-forgotten Gods from Nature's hand
Receive bright offerings still-with all its vines,
And rocks, and ruins, clear before him lay;-
The seal was taken from the founts of day.

The winds came o'er his cheek-the soft winds, blending
All summer sounds and odours in their sigh;

The orange-groves waved round; the hills were sending
Their bright streams down; the free birds darting by,
And the blue festal heavens above him bending,

As if to fold a world where none could die.
And who was he that looked upon these things?

-If but of earth, yet one whose thoughts were wings

To bear him o'er creation; and whose mind
Was an air harp, awakening to the sway
Of sunny Nature's breathings unconfined,
With all the mystic harmonies that lay
Far in the slumber of its chords enshrined,
Till the light breeze went thrilling on its way.
There was no sound that wandered through the sky
But told him secrets in its melody.

Was the deep forest lonely unto him,

With all its whispering leaves? Each dell and glade
Teemed with such forms as on the moss-clad brim
Of fountains, in their sparry grottoes, played,
Seen by the Greek of yore through twilight dim,
Or misty noontide in the laurel shade.

-There is no solitude on earth so deep

As that where man decrees that man should weep!

But oh! the life in Nature's green domains,

The breathing sense of joy! where flowers are springing
By starry thousands on the slopes and plains,

And the grey rocks-and all the arched woods ringing,
And the young branches trembling to the strains
Of wild-born creatures, through the sunshine winging
Their fearless flight,-and sylvan echoes round,
Mingling all tones to one Æolian sound.

And the glad voice, the laughing voice of streams,
And the low cadence of the silvery sea,

And reed-notes from the mountains, and the beams

Of the warm sun-all these are for the free!

And they were his once more, the bard whose dreams Their spirit still had haunted. Could it be

That he had borne the chain? Oh! who shall dare
To say how much Man's heart uncrushed may bear?

So deep a root hath hope! but woe for this
Our frail mortality, that aught so bright,
So almost burthened with excess of bliss,
As the rich hour which back to summer's light
Calls the worn captive, with the gentle kiss
Of winds, and gush of waters, and the sight
Of the green earth, mus: so be bought with years
Of the heart's fever, parching up its tears,

And feeding, a slow fire, on all its powers,
Until the boon for which we gasp in vain,
If hardly won at length, too late made ours,
When the soul's wing is broken, comes like rain
Withheld till evening, on the stately flowers
Which withered in the noontide, ne'er again
To lift their heads in glory. So doth Earth
Breathe on her gifts, and melt away their worth.

The sailor dies in sight of that green shore,
Whose fields, in slumbering beauty, seemed to lie
On the deep's foarn, amidst its hollow roar
Called up to sunlight by his fantasy.

And when the shining desert-mists that wore

The lake's bright semblance, have been all passed by,
The pilgrim sinks beside the fountain wave,
Which dashes from its rock, too late to save.

Or if we live, if that too dearly bought,
And made too precious by long hopes and fears,
Remain our own-love, darkened and o'erwrought
By memory of privation-love, which wears
And casts o'er life a troubled hue of thought,
Becomes the shadow of our closing years,
Making it almost misery to possess

Aught watched with such unquiet tenderness.

Such unto him, the Bard, the worn and wild,
And sick with hope deferred, from whom the sky,
With all its clouds in burning glory piled,

Had been shut out by long captivity.

Such freedom was to Tasso.

As a child

Is to the mother, whose foreboding eye

In its too radiant glance from day to day,
Reads that which calls the brightest first away.

And he became a wanderer-in whose breast
Wild fear which, e'en when every sense doth sleep,

Clings to the burning heart, a wakeful guest,
Sat brooding as a spirit, raised to keep

Its gloomy vigil of intense unrest

O'er treasures burthening life, and buried deep

In cavern-tomb, and sought through shades and stealth,
By some pale mortal, trembling at his wealth.

But woe for those who trample o'er a mind!

A deathless thing! They know not what they do,
Nor what they deal with. Man perchance may bind
The flower his step hath bruised; or light anew
The torch he quenches; or to music wind
Again the lyre-string from his touch that flew ;—
But for the soul!-oh! tremble, and beware
To lay rude hands upon God's mysteries there!

For blindness wraps that world—our touch may turn
Some balance fearfully and darkly hung;

Or put out some bright spark whose ray should burn
To point the way a thousand rocks among;

Or break some subtle chain which none discern,
Though binding down the terrible, the strong,
The o'ersweeping passions, which to loose on life
Is to set free the elements for strife.

Who then to power and glory shall restore
That which our evil rashness hath undone !

Who unto mystic harmony once more

Attune those viewless chords ?-There is but One!
He that through dust the stream of life can pour,
The Mighty and the Merciful alone.

-Yet oft His paths have midnight for their shade—
He leaves to Man the ruin Man hath made.

THE NECROMANCER.

Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please?

Resolve me of all ambiguities?

Perform what desperate enterprises I will?

I'll have them fly to India for gold,

Ransack the ocean for orient pearl,

And search all corners of the New-found World

For pleasant fruits and princely delicates.'

MARLOW'S Faustus.

AN old man on his deathbed lay, an old yet stately man;
His lip seemed moulded for command, though quivering now, and

wan;

By fits a wild and wandering fire shot from his troubled eye,

But his pale brow still austerely wore its native mastery.

There were gorgeous things from lands afar, strewn round the mystic room;

THE NECROMANCER.

435

From where the orient palm-trees wave, bright gem and dazzling plume;

And vases with rich odour filled, that o'er the couch of death
Shed forth, like groves from Indian isles, a spicy summer's breath.

And sculptured forms of olden time, in their strange beauty white,
Stood round the chamber solemnly, robed as in ghostly light;
All passionless and still they stood, and shining through the gloom,
Like watchers of another world, stern angels of the tomb.

'Twas silent as a midnight church, that dim and mystic place, While shadows cast from many thoughts o'erswept the old man's face.

He spoke at last, and low and deep, yet piercing was the tone, To one that o'er him long had watched, in reverence and alone.

"I leave," he said, "an empire dread, by mount, and shore, and sea,

Wider than Roman Eagle's wing e'er traversed proudly free;
Never did King or Kaiser yet such high dominion boast,

Or Soldan of the sunbeam's clime, girt with a conquering host.

"They hear me-they that dwell far down where the sea-serpent lies,

And they, the unseen, on Afric's hills that sport when tempests

rise;

And they that rest in central caves, whence fiery streams make

way,

My lightest whisper shakes their sleep, they hear me, and obey.

"They come to me with ancient wealth-with crown and cup of

gold,

From cities roofed with ocean-waves, that buried them of old ; They come from Earth's most hidden veins, which man shall

never find,

With gems that have the hues of fire deep at their heart enshrined.

"But a mightier power is on me now- -it rules my struggling

breath;

I have swayed the rushing elements-but still and strong is Death!

I quit my throne, yet leave I not my vassal-spirits free

Thou hast brave and high aspirants, 'youth!-my Sceptre is for thee!

"Now listen! I will teach thee words whose mastery shall compel

The viewless ones to do thy work, in wave, or blood, or hell!
But never, never mayst thou breathe those words in human ear,
Until thou'rt laid, as I am now, the grave's dark portals near."
His voice in faintness died away,-and a sudden flush was seen,
A mantling of the rapid blood o'er the youth's impassioned mien~~-

A mantling and a fading swift, a look with sadness fraught ;

And that too passed-and boldly then rushed forth the ardent thought.

"Must those high words of sovereignty ne'er sound in human ear?

I have a friend-a noble friend-as life our freedom dear!
Thou offerest me a glorious gift-a proud majestic throne,
But I know the secrets of his heart-and shall I seal mine own?

"And there is one that loves me well, with yet a gentle love—
Oh! is not her full, boundless faith, all power, all wealth above?
Must a deep gulf between the souls, now closely linked, be set?
Keep, keep the Sceptre !-leave me free, and loved and trustful
yet!"

Then from the old man's haughty lips was heard the sad reply"Well hast thou chosen !-I blame thee not-I that unwept must die.

Live thou, beloved and trustful yet !-No more on human head Be the sorrows of unworthy gifts from bitter vials shed!"

ULLA; OR, THE ADJURATION.

"Yet speak to me! I have outwatched the stars,
And gazed o'er heaven in vain, in search of thee.
Speak to me! I have wandered o'er the earth,
And never found thy likeness. Speak to me!
This once-once more !"

Manfred.

"THOU'RT gone!-thou'rt slumbering low,
With the sounding seas above thee:
It is but a restless woe,

But a haunting dream to love thee !
Thrice the glad swan has sung

To greet the spring-time hours,
Since thine oar at parting flung

The white spray up in showers.

There's a shadow of the grave on thy hearth and round thy home;

Come to me from the ocean's dead!-thou art surely of them-come!"

In the Iceland summer night,

Far gazing o'er a glassy flood,

From a dark rock's beetling height.

"I know thou hast thy bed

Where the sea-weed's coil hath bound thee;

The storm sweeps o'er thy head,

But the depths are hushed around thee.