EARL HENRY. Oh! I were most base, Not loving Oropeza. True, I woo'd her, Hoping to heal a deeper wound; but she EARL HENRY. Ah! was that bliss I caught her arms; the veins were swelling on them That kindled love with love. And when her sire, Oh! what if all betray me? what if thou? Who in his dream of hope already grasp'd Of ancient feuds pour'd curses on my head, But thou art stern, and with unkindly countenance SANDOVAL Anxiously, Henry! reasoning anxiously. EARL HENRY. Blessings gather round her! I swore, and with an inward thought that seem'd I would exchange my unblench'd state with hers- [EARL HENRY relires into the wood SANDOVAL (alone). O Henry! always strivest thou to be great She, nothing trembling, led me through that gloom, The whirl-blast comes, the desert-sands rise up And to that covert by a silent stream, Which, with one star reflected near its marge, Fragrant with flowering trees-I well remember To that sweet bower! Then Oropeza trembled- SANDOVAL. A rude and scaring note, my friend! EARL HENRY. Oh! no! I have small memory of aught but pleasure. And shape themselves: from Earth to Heaven they Gaily from thy mother-stalk Wert thou danced and wafted highSoon on this unshelter'd walk Flung to fade, to rot and die. O give me, from this heartless scene released, TO AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN AT THE Or lies the purple evening on the bay THEATRE. MAIDEN, that with sullen brow Sittest behind those virgins gay, Like a scorch'd and mildew'd bough, Leafless 'mid the blooms of May! Him who lured thee and forsook, Oft I watch'd with angry gaze, Soft the glances of the youth, But no true love in his eye. Lothing thy polluted lot, Hie thee, Maiden, hie thee hence! Seek thy weeping Mother's cot, With a wiser innocence. Thou hast known deceit and folly, Inly arm'd, go, Maiden! go. Mother sage of Self-dominion, Firm thy steps, O Melancholy! Mute the sky-lark and forlorn, While she moults the firstling plumes, That had skimm'd the tender corn, Or the bean-field's odorous blooms: Soon with renovated wing Shall she dare a loftier flight, Upward to the day-star spring, And embathe in heavenly light. LINES COMPOSED IN A CONCERT-ROOM. NOR cold, nor stern, my soul! yet I detest These feel not Music's genuine power, nor deign Hark the deep buzz of Vanity and Hate! Scornful, yet envious, with self-torturing sneer Of the calm glossy lake, O let me hide Unheard, unseen, behind the alder-trees, Breathes in his flute sad airs, so wild and slow, Makes the cock shrilly on the rain-storm crow, Whom his own true-love buried in the sands! The things of Nature utter; birds or trees, Or where the stiff grass 'mid the heath-plant waves, THE KEEPSAKE. THE tedded hay, the first fruits of the soil, And, more beloved than they, her auburn hair. In the cool morning twilight, early waked * One of the names (and meriting to be the only one) of the Myosotis Scorpioides Palustris, a flower from six to twelve inches high, with blue blossom and bright yellow eye. It has the same name over the whole Empire of Germany (Vergissmein nicht) and, we believe, in Denmark and Sweden The silk upon the frame, and work'd her name Believe me, while in bed you lay, You made us grow devouter! In the place where you were going; This World has angels all too few, And Heaven is overflowing! TO A LADY. WITH FALCONER'S "SHIPWRECK." AH! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams, In arched groves, the youthful poet's choice; Nor while half-listening, 'mid delicious dreams, To harp and song from lady's hand and voice; Nor yet while gazing in sublimer mood On cliff, or cataract, in Alpine dell; Nor in dim cave with bladdery sea-weed strew'd, Framing wild fancies to the ocean's swell; Our sea-bard sang this song! which still he sings, And sings for thee, sweet friend! Hark, Pity, hark! Now mounts, now totters on the Tempest's wings, Now groans, and shivers, the replunging Bark! Cling to the shrouds!" In vain! The breakers roar Death shrieks! With two alone of all his clan Forlorn the poet paced the Grecian shore, No classic roamer, but a shipwreck'd man! Say then, what muse inspired these genial strains, name Of Gratitude! Remembrances of Friend, Or absent or no more! Shades of the Past, Which Love makes Substance! Hence to thee I send, O dear as long as life and memory last! I send with deep regards of heart and head, Sweet maid, for friendship form'd! this work to thee: And thou, the while thou canst not choose but shed A tear for Falconer, wilt remember me. TO A YOUNG LADY. ON HER RECOVERY FROM A FEVER. WHY need I say, Louisa dear! A lovely convalescent; The sunny Showers, the dappled Sky, The little Birds that warble high, Their vernal loves commencing, Will better welcome you than I With their sweet influencing. SOMETHING CHILDISH, BUT VERY NATURAL. WRITTEN IN GERMANY. IF I had but two little wings, But in my sleep to you I fly : I'm always with you in my sleep! Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids: HOME-SICK. WRITTEN IN GERMANY. "T IS sweet to him, who all the week Sincere, affectionate, and gay, But what is all, to his delight, Who having long been doom'd to roam, Throws off the bundle from his back, Before the door of his own home? Home-sickness is a wasting pang; This feel I hourly more and more: There's Healing only in thy wings, Thou Breeze that playest on Albion's shore! ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION. Do you ask what the birds say? The Sparrow, the Dove, The Linnet and Thrush, say, "I love and I love!" In the winter they 're silent-the wind is so strong, What it says, I don't know, but it sings a loud song. But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, And singing, and loving-all come back together But the Lark is so brimful of gladness and love, Its own sweet self-a love of Thee That seems, yet cannot greater be! THE VISIONARY HOPE. SAD lot, to have no Hope! Though lowly kneeling Though obscure pangs made curses of his dreams, That Hope, which was his inward bliss and boast, Which waned and died, yet ever near him stood, Though changed in nature, wander where he wouldFor Love's Despair is but Hope's pining Ghost! For this one Hope he makes his hourly moan, He wishes and can wish for this alone! Pierced, as with light from Heaven, before its gleams (So the love-stricken visionary deems) Disease would vanish, like a summer shower, Whose dews fling sunshine from the noon-tide bower! Or let it stay! yet this one Hope should give Such strength that he would bless his pains and live. RECOLLECTIONS OF LOVE. How warm this woodland wild Recess! Love surely hath been breathing here, And this sweet bed of heath, my dear! Swells up, then sinks, with faint caress, As if to have you yet more near. Eight springs have flown, since last I lay On seaward Quantock's heathy hills, Where quiet sounds from hidden rills Float here and there, like things astray, And high o'erhead the sky-lark shrills No voice as yet had made the air Be music with your name; yet why That asking look? that yearning sigh? That sense of promise every where? Beloved! flew your spirit by? As when a mother doth explore The rose-mark on her long-lost child I met, I loved you, maiden mild! As whom I long had loved beforeSo deeply, had I been beguiled. You stood before me like a thought, Has not, since then, Love's prompture deep, THE HAPPY HUSBAND. A FRAGMENT. OFT, oft methinks, the while with Thee I breathe, as from the heart, thy dear And dedicated name, I hear A promise and a mystery, A pledge of more than passing life, A pulse of love, that ne'er can sleep! A feeling that upbraids the heart With happiness beyond desert, That gladness half requests to weep! Nor bless I not the keener sense And unalarming turbulence Of transient joys, that ask no sting, From jealous fears, or coy denying; Wheel out their giddy moment, then A more precipitated vein Of notes, that eddy in the flow Of smoothest song, they come, they go, And leave the sweeter under-strain ON REVISITING THE SEA-SHORE, AFTER LONG ABSENCE, UNDER STRONG MEDICAL RECOMMENDATION NOT TO BATHE. God be with thee, gladsome Ocean! How gladly greet I thee once more! Ships and waves, and ceaseless motion, And men rejoicing on thy shore. Dissuading spake the mild Physician, "Those briny waves for thee are Death!" But my soul fulfill'd her mission, And lo! I breathe untroubled breath! Fashion's pining sons and daughters, That seek the crowd they seem to fly, Trembling they approach thy waters; And what cares Nature, if they die ? Me a thousand hopes and pleasures, Dreams (the soul herself forsaking), Tearful raptures, boyish mirth; Silent adorations, making A blessed shadow of this Earth! O ye hopes, that stir within me, I cannot die, if Life be Love. THE COMPOSITION OF A KISS. CUPID, if storying legends* tell aright, On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc! O dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, So sweet, we know not we are listening to it, Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my Thought, Yea with my Life and Life's own secret Joy: Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused, Into the mighty vision passing-there As in her natural form, swell'd vast to Heaven! Awake, my soul! not only passive praise Sweet sounds transpired, as when th' enamour'd dove Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears, Pours the soft murm'ring of responsive love. III. MEDITATIVE POEMS, IN BLANK VERSE. Yea, he deserves to find himself deceived, Schiller. Mute thanks and secret ecstasy! Awake, Thou first and chief, sole Sovereign of the Vale! O struggling with the darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars, Or when they climb the sky or when they sink : Companion of the Morning-Star at dawn, Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn Co-herald: wake, O wake, and utter praise' Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth? Who fill'd thy countenance with rosy light? Who made thee Parent of perpetual streams? And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad! HYMN BEFORE SUN-RISE, IN THE VALE Who gave you your invulnerable life, OF CHAMOUNY. Besides the Rivers Arve and Arveiron, which have their sources in the foot of Mont Blanc, five conspicuous torrents rush down its sides, and within a few paces of the Glaciers, the Gentiana Major grows in immense numbers, with its "flowers of loveliest blue." HAST thou a charm to stay the Morning-Star In his steep course? So long he seems to pause *Effinxit quondam blandum meditata laborem Basia lasciva Cypria Diva manâ. Ambrosia succos occultâ temperat arte, Fragransque infuso nectare tingit opus. Sufficit et partem mellis, quod subdolus olim Non impune favis surripuisset Amor. Decussos violæ foliis ad miscet odores Et spolia æstivis plurima rapta rosis. Addit et illecebras et mille et mille lepores, Et quot Acidalius gaudia Cestus habet. Er his composuit Dea basia; et omnia libang Lavenias nitide sparsa per ora Cloës Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven |