Who, if he sometimes caught his fire from Heaven,
Would oftener snatch it from the depths of Hell;
The fiercer passions owned his wondrous spell;
Titanic grief that will not yield to Time;
Revenge, Remorse, and Hate unquenchable,—
The weltering offspring of Despair and Crime,-
Touched by his wand, uprise in agony sublime!
But, lo! what vision bursts upon my sight!
What shapes, what hues, yon opening doors unfold!
What rainbow forms are glancing in the light
Showered from yon gorgeous roof of fretted gold!
Whence spring the dazzling tints I now behold?
Where am I, where?—I live, I breathe again!
What glorious triumphs of the days of old
Are gathered 'round: Ausonia, France, and Spain,
Your brightest dreams I see; I have not toiled in vain!
There Guido's Mary looks in faith on high;
There Salvi's Nun in silent prayer doth bow;
There Claude's bright, rippling wave and sunset sky,
Salvator's storm-rent rock and mountain brow,
And Poussin's classic glooms are gathering now;–
There Carlo Dolci's matchless anguish droops;
There golden Titian's living beauties glow;
There graceful Watteau spreads his courtly groups;
And 'neath his ponderous cross, Del Sarto's SAVIOUR stoops!
There bright Giorgione's blue-eyed consort shines,
A rival star to Titian's gay brunette;
There pure Coreggio's reading mourner pines;
And crystal Cuyp's delicious sun hath set;
There Spagnoletto's dying Anchoret,
And Caravaggio's slaughtered Martyrs lie;
There deep, clear Ruysdael's Twilight lingers yet;
Romano's battle steeds are thundering by;
And Cagliari's Feast salutes the broad, blue sky!
There, too, Albano's Sea Nymphs float along;
Guercino's Hagar sheds upbraiding tears;
Piombo's Lazar in his faith is strong;
And Vinci's Judith still the charger bears;-
There polished Teniers' festive evening wears;
Velasquez's Infant smiles in fadeless youth;
Zampieri's Sibyl lifts the veil of years;
Hobbema's sunlit slopes, and mill-stream smooth,
And Rembrandt's shadowy power, reflect immortal truth!
And more, yet more! the fierce Giotto there,
His victim tortured, triumphs in his pain;
There Mazzuoli's Vision, bright and fair,
From robber-spoilers hath escaped again;
And Berretino's Sabines shriek in vain!
There full of faith the good St. Bruno dies;
There Snyders' yelling bloodhounds burst their chain:
There gorgeous Rubens' emblemed Triumphs rise;
And Vandyck's Charles uplifts his mild, reproachful eyes.
The sun hath sunk behind yon city gay,
Where purple hues are fleckering all the sky;
And Twilight weaves her web of night and day;
And, one by one, the stars look out on high;
But as the feathery clouds sail slowly by
The crimson flush that tracks their monarch's way,
Each snow-white billow takes a deeper dye,
Each silvery wreath grows brighter in the ray,
Till all have shared the spell, and, smiling, passed away!
And thus my heart, when I have ceased to gaze,
Enchanting Florence, on thy fanes sublime,
Will strive to trace the bright, immortal blaze
That rises round thee from the depths of Time!
And though I leave thee for a colder clime;
Still memory's halo, lingering pensively,
Shall steep my soaring visions as they climb;
Till many an aim, wish, feeling, hope shall be
To brighter issues touched by thoughts of thine and thee!
FOR ever thine, whate'er this heart betide;
For ever mine, where'er our lot be cast;
Fate, that may rob us of all wealth beside,
Shall leave us love-till life itself be past.
The world may wrong us; we will brave its hate;
False friends may change, and falser hopes decline; Though bowed by cankering cares, we smile at Fate, Since thou art mine, beloved, and I am thine!
For ever thine; when circling years have spread
Time's snowy blossom's o'er thy placid brow;
When youth's rich glow, its "purple light," hath fled,
And lilies bloom where roses flourish now;—
Say, shall I love the fading beauty less
Whose spring-tide radiance has been wholly mine?— No; come what will, thy steadfast truth I'll bless, In youth, in age,-thine own, for ever thine!
For ever thine; at evening's dewy hour,
When gentle hearts to tenderest thoughts incline;
When balmiest odours from each closing flower
Are breathing 'round me,-thine, for ever thine!
For ever thine; 'mid Fashion's heartless throng;
In courtly bowers, at Folly's gilded shrine;
Smiles on my cheek, light words upon my tongue,
My deep heart still is thine,-for ever thine!
For ever thine; amid the boisterous crowd,
Where the jest sparkles, with the sparkling wine,
I never breathe thy gentle name aloud,
But drink to thee, in thought,-for ever thine!
I would not, sweet, profane that silvery sound,
The depths of love could such rude hearts divine;
Let the loud laughter peal, the toast go round,
My inmost thoughts are thine,-for ever thine!
For ever thine, whate'er this heart betide;
For ever mine, where'er our lot be cast;
Fate, that may rob us of all wealth beside,
Shall leave us love,-till life itself be past!
WE MET WHEN LIFE AND HOPE WERE NEW.
WE met when life and hope were new,
When all we looked on smiled;
And Fancy's wand around us threw
Enchantments, sweet as wild:
Ours were the light and bounding hearts
The world had yet to wring;
The bloom, that when it once departs,
Can know no second spring.
What though our love was never told,—
Or breathed in sighs alone;
By signs that would not be controlled,
Its growing strength was shown:-
The touch that thrilled us with delight;
The glance by art untamed;
In one short moon, as brief as bright,
The tender truth proclaimed.
We parted, chilling looks among;
My inmost soul was bowed;
And blessings died upon my tongue,
I dared not breathe aloud :—
A pensive smile, serene and bland,
One thrilling glance-how vain!
A pressure of thy yielding hand;
We never met again!
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