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Lilies for a bridal bed,
There the voluptuous nightingales
Are awake through all the broad On the living grave I bear,
noonday. Scatter them without a tear,
When one with bliss or sadness fails,
And through the windless ivy-boughs,
Sick with sweet love, droops dying
Watching to catch the languid close
The wings of the weak melody,
Till some new strain of feeling bear
The song, and all the woods are Semi-chorus I. of Spirits (as Asia and
mute; Panthea pass into the forest).
When there is heard through the dim
air The path through which that lovely The rush of wings, and, rising there twain
Like many a lake-surrounded flute, Have passed, by cedar, pine, and Sounds overflow the listener's brain yew,
So sweet that joy is almost pain. * And each dark tree that ever grew, Is curtained out from heaven's wide
blue. Nor sun nor moon nor wind nor rain
[From the same.] Can pierce its interwoven bowers;
VOICE in the air, singing. Nor aught save where some cloud of dew,
ACT II., SCENE V. Drifted along the earth-creeping | Life of Life! thy lips enkindle breeze
With their love the breath between Between the trunks of the hoar
And thy smiles, before they dwindle, Hangs each a pearl in the pale flowers Make the cold air fire, then screen Of the green laurel blown anew,
Faints, entangled in their mazes.
Through the vest which seems to hide
As the radiant lines of morning
Through the clouds, ere they divide
them; And this atmosphere divinest Shrouds thee wheresoe'er thou shinest.
And all that did then attend and follow,
of my sweet pipings.
Fair are others; none beholds thee
(But thy voice sounds low and tender, Like the fairest), for it folds thee From the sight — that liquid splen
dor; And all feel, yet see thee never, As I feel now, lost for ever!
Lamp of Earth! where'er thou movest, Its dim shapes are clad with bright
ness, And the souls of whom thou lovest
Walk upon the winds with lightness, Till they fail, as I am failing, Dizzy, lost, yet unbewailing!
I sang of the dancing stars,
I sang of the dædal earth, And of heaven, and the Giant wars,
And love, and death, and birth. And then I changed my pipings, Singing how down the vale of
a reed : Gods and men, we are all deluded
thus; It breaks in our bosom, and then
we bleed. All wept
- as I think both ye now
would, If envy or age had not frozen your
blood At the sorrow of my sweet
HYMN OF PAN.
We come, we come;
Where loud waves are dumb
The cicale above in the lime, And the lizards below in the
grass, Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was,
Listening to my sweet pipings.
Liquid Peneus was flowing,
And all dark Tempe lay
The light of the dying day,
lawns, And the brink of the dewy
War is the statesman's game, the priest's
delight, The lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's
trade, And to those royal murderers whose
mean thrones Are bought by crimes of treachery and
gore, The bread they eat, the staff on which
they lean. Guards, garbed in blood-red livery, sur
round Their palaces, participate the crimes That force defends, and from a nation's
rage Secure the crown, which all the curses
reach That famine, frenzy, woe, and penury
breathe. These are the hired bravos who defend The tyrant's throne.
ONE WORD IS TOO OFTEN PROFANED. ONE word is too often profaned
I can give not what men call love;
But wilt thou accept not
And the Heavens reject not:
The desire of the moth for the star, For prudence to smother,
Of the night for the morrow, And Pity from thee more dear
The devotion to something afar Than that from another.
From the sphere of our sorrow?
1793–1835. [Felicia DOROTHEA BROWNE was born in Liverpool, Sept. 25, 1793, and published her first poems in 1803. She married Captain Hemans, 1812, and died in Dublin, May 16, 1835. Her principal works are: Tales and Historic Scenes, 1816; The Forest Sanctuary, 1826; Lays of Many Lands, 1826; Records of Woman, 1828; Songs of the Affections, 1830; Scenes and Hymns of Life, 1834. She also published various dramas and translations.)
And the reindeer bounds through the THE VOICE OF SPRING.
pasture free, I COME, come! ye have called me
And the pine has a fringe of softer green, long,
And the moss looks bright where my I come o'er the mountains with light and
step has been. song; Ye may trace my step o'er the waken- I have sent through the wood-paths a ing earth,
gentle sigh, By the winds which tell of the violet's And called out each voice of the deepbirth,
blue sky, By the primrose stars in the shadowy From the night-bird's lay through the grass,
starry time, By the green leaves opening as I pass.
In the groves of the soft Hesperian
clime, I have breathed on the South, and the To the swan's wild note by the Iceland chestnut-flowers
lakes, By thousands have burst from the forest- When the dark fir-bough into verdure bowers :
breaks. And the ancient graves, and the fallen fanes,
From the streams and founts I have Are veiled with wreaths on Italian
loosed the chain; plains.
They are sweeping on to the silvery - But it is not for me, in my hour of
They are flashing down from the moun. To speak of the ruin or the tomb !
They are flinging spray on the forestI have passed o'er the hills of the stormy boughs, North,
They are bursting fresh from their sparry And the larch has hung all his tassels
And the earth resounds with the joy of The fisher is out on the sunny sea,
Come forth, Oye children of gladness, And the sounding aisles of the dim
come! Where the violets lie may now be your To the anthem of the free.
home. Ye of the rose-cheek and dew-bright The ocean-eagle soar'd eye,
From his nest, by the white ware's And the bounding footstep, to meet me
And the rocking pines of the forest With the lyre, and the wreath, and the
roar'd: joyous lay,
Such was their welcome home. Come forth to the sunshine, not stay.
There were men with hoary hair
Amidst that pilgrim band: Away from the dwellings of care-worn
Why had they come to wither there, men,
Away from their childhood's land? The waters are sparkling in wood and glen;
There was woman's fearless eye, Away from the chamber and dusky Lit by her deep love's truth; hearth,
There was manhood's brow serenely The young leaves are dancing in breezy high, mirth,
And the fiery heart of youth. Their light stems thrill to the wild-wood strains,
What sought they thus afar? And Youth is abroad in my green do
Bright jewels of the mine? mains.
The wealth of seas? che spoils of
No— 'twas a faith's pure shrine.
Yes, call that holy ground,
Which first their brave feet trod! On a stern and rock-bound coast;
They have left unstain'd what there they And the woods, against a stormy sky,
found Their giant branches toss'd;
Freedom to worship God! And the heavy night hung dark,
The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moor'd their THE HOMES OF ENGLAND.
bark On the wild New England shore.
The stately homes of England,
How beautiful they stand, Not as the conqueror comes,
Amidst their tall ancestral trees, They, the true-hearted, came;
O’er all the pleasant land ! Not with the roll of the stirring drums, The deer across their greensward bound And the trumpet that sings of fame; Through shade and sunny gleam,
And the swan glides past them with the Not as the flying come,
sound In silence, and in fear;
Of some rejoicing stream. They shook the depths of the desert's gloom
The merry homes of England With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Around their hearths by night,
What gladsome looks of household Amidst the storm they sang :
love Till the stars heard, and the sea; Meet in the ruddy light!