Give me that strain, of mournfal touch,
We used to love long, long ago,
Before our hearts had known as much
As now, alas! they bleed to know!
Sweet notes! they tell of former peace,
Of all, that look'd so rapturous then,
Now wither'd, lost-oh! pray thee, cease,
I cannot bear those sounds again!
Art thou, too, wretched? yes, thou art;
I see thy tears flow fast with mine-
Come, come to this devoted heart,
'Tis breaking, but it still is thine!
A VISION OF PHILOSOPHY.
"TWAS on the Red Sea coast, at morn, we met
The venerable man; a virgin bloom
Of softness mingled with the vigorous thought
That tower'd upon his brow; as when we see
The gentle moon and the full radiant sun
Shining in heaven together. When he spoke
'Twas language sweeten'd into song-such holy sounds
As oft the spirit of the good man hears,
Prelusive to the harmony of heaven,
When death is nigh! and still, as he unclosed
His sacred lips, an odour, all as bland
As ocean breezes gather from the flowers
That blossom in elysium, breathed around!
With silent awe we listen'd, while he told
Of the dark veil, which many an age had hung
O'er Nature's form, till by the touch of time
The mystic shroud grew thin and luminous,
And half the goddess beam'd in glimpses through it!
Of magic wonders that were known and taught
By him (or Cham or Zoroaster named)
Who mused, amid the mighty cataclysm,
O'er his rude tablets of primeval lore,
Nor let the living star of science sink
Beneath the waters, which ingulph'd the world!—
Of visions by Calliope revealed
To him, who traced upon his typic lyre
The diapason of man's mingled frame,
And the grand Doric heptachord of heaven!
With all of pure, of wondrous and arcane,
Which the grave sons of Mochus, many a night,
Told to the young and bright-hair'd visitant
Of Carmel's sacred mount!-Then, in a flow
Of calmer converse, he beguiled us on
Through many a maze of garden and of porch,
Through many a system, where the scatter'd light
Of heavenly truth lay, like a broken beam
From the pure sun, which, though refracted all
Into a thousand hues, is sunshine still,
And bright through every change!-he spoke of Him,
The lone, eternal One, who dwells above,
And of the soul's untraceable descent
From that high fount of spirit, through the grades
Of intellectual being, till it mix
With atoms vague, corruptible, and dark;
Nor even then, though sunk in earthly dross,
Corrupted all, nor its ethereal touch
Quite lost, but tasting of the fountain still!
As some bright river, which has roll'd along
Through meads of flowery light and mines of gold,
When pour'd at length into the dusky deep,
Disdains to mingle with its briny taint,
But keeps awhile the pure and golden tinge,
The balmy freshness of the fields it left!
And here the old man ceased-a wingèd train
Of nymphs and genii led him from our eyes.
The fair illusion fled! and, as I waked,
I knew my visionary soul had been
Among that people of aërial dreams
Who live upon the burning galaxy!
THE world had just begun to steal
Each hope, that led me lightly on,
I felt not as I used to feel,
And life grew dark and love was gone!
No eye to mingle sorrow's tear,
No lip to mingle pleasure's breath,
No tongue to call me kind and dear-
'Twas gloomy, and I wish'd for death!
But when I saw that gentle eye,
Oh! something seem'd to tell me then,
That I was yet too young to die,
And hope and bliss might bloom again!
With every beamy smile that cross'd
Your kindling cheek, you lighted home Some feeling which my heart had lost, And peace, which long had learn'd to roam! 'Twas then indeed so sweet to live,
Hope look'd so new and Love so kind,
That, though I weep, I still forgive
The ruin which they've left behind!
I could have loved you-oh, so well!—
The dream, that wishing boyhood knows,
Is but a bright beguiling spell,
Which only lives while passion glows:
But, when this early flush declines,
When the heart's vivid morning fleets,
You know not then how close it twines
Round the first kindred soul it meets!
Yes, yes, I could have loved, as one
Who, while his youth's enchantments fall,
Finds something dear to rest upon,
Which pays him for the loss of all!
IN slumber, I prithee, how is it
That souls are oft taking the air,
And paying each other a visit,
While bodies are-Heaven knows where?
Last night, 'tis in vain to deny it,
Your Soul took a fancy to roam,
For I heard her, on tiptoe so quiet,
Come ask, whether mine was at home.
And mine let her in with delight,
And they talk'd and they kiss'd the time through,
For, when souls come together at night,
There is no knowing what they mayn't do!
And your little Soul, Heaven bless her!
Had much to complain and to say,
Of how sadly you wrong and oppress her
By keeping her prison'd all day.
"If I happen," said she, "but to steal
For a peep now and then to her eye,
Or, to quiet the fever I feel,
Just venture abroad on a sigh;
"In an instant she frightens me in
With some phantom of prudence or terror, For fear I should stray into sin,
Or, what is still worse, into error!
So, instead of displaying my graces
Through look and through words and through mien, I am shut up in corners and places,
Where truly I blush to be seen!"
Upon hearing this piteous confession,
My Soul, looking tenderly at her,
Declared, as for grace and discretion,
He did not know much of the matter;
"But to-morrow, sweet Spirit!" he said,
Be at home after midnight, and then
I will come when your lady 's in bed,
And we'll talk o'er the subject again."
So she whisper'd a word in his ear,
I suppose to her door to direct him,
And-just after midnight, my dear,
Your polite little Soul may expect him.
To see thee every day that came,
And find thee every day the same,
In pleasure's smile or sorrow's tear
The same benign, consoling Dear!
To meet thee early, leave thee late,
Has been so long my bliss, my fate,
That life, without this cheering ray.
Which came, like sunshine, every day,
And all my pain, my sorrow chased,
Is now a lone and loveless waste.-
Where are the chords she used to touch?
Where are the songs she loved so much?
CANADIAN BOAT SONG.
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past."-P. 191.
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