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To honor thine abandoned Urn?

Redoubled be her tears, its chords are No, no -- it is my sorrow's pride

riven! That last dear duty to fulfil;

It softened men of iron mould, Though all the world forget beside, It gave them virtues not their own; 'Tis meet that I remember still. No ear so dull, no soul so cold,

That felt not, fired not to the tone, For well I know, that such had been Till David's lyre grew mightier than Thy gentle care for him, who now

his throne ! Unmourned shall quit this mortal scene,

Where none regarded him, but thou: It told the triumphs of our King, And, oh! I feel in that was given

It wasted glory to our God; A blessing never meant for me; It made our gladdened valleys ring, Thou wert too like a dream of heaven, The cedars bow, the mountains nod; For earthly Love to merit thee.

Its sound aspired to heaven and

there abode! Since then, though heard on earth no


Devotion and her daughter Love, (Hebrew Melodies.

Still bid the bursting spirit soar She walks in beauty, like the night To sounds that seem as from above, Of cloudless climes, and starry skies :

In dreams that day's broad light can And all that's best of dark and bright

not remove.
Meet in her aspect and her eyes :
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

IF THAT HIGH WORLD. One shade the more, one ray the less, IF that high world, which lies beyond Had half impaired the nameless Our own, surviving Love endears; grace,

If there the cherished heart be fond, Which waves in every raven tress, The eye the same, except in tears

Or softly lightens o'er her face; How welcome those untrodden spheres! Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How sweet this very hour to die ! How pure, how dear their dwelling. To soar from earth and find all fears, place.

Lost in thy light - Eternity ! And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, It must be so : 'tis not for self So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

That we so tremble on the brink; The smiles that win, the tints that glow, And striving to o’erleap the gulf,

But tell of days in goodness spent, Yet cling to Being's severing link. A mind at peace with all below, Oh! in that future let us think A heart whose love is innocent!

To hold each heart the heart that

shares, With them the immortal waters drink,

And soul in soul grow deathless THE HARP THE MONARCH

THE harp the monarch minstrel swept,
The King of men, the loved of


ON Jordan's banks the Arab's camels Which Music hallowed while she wept

stray, O'er tones her heart of hearts had On Sion's hill the False One's yotaries given,


The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steepYet there — even there — O God! İhy

thunders sleep: There — where Thy finger scorched the

tablet stone! There — where Thy shadow to Thy peo

ple shone! Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire: Thyself -- none living see and not ex

pire! Oh! in the lightning let Thy glance

appear; Sweep from his shivered hand the op

pressor's spear; How long by tyrants shall thy land be

trod! How long Thy temple worshipless, oh



BEAUTY'S BLOOM, OH! snatched away in beauty's bloom, On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;

But on thy turf shall roses rear

Their leaves, the earliest of the year; And the wild cypress wave in tender

gloom. And oft by yon blue gushing stream

Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, And feel deep thought with many a

dream, And lingering pause and lightly tread; Fond wretch ! as if her step disturbed

the dead !

JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER. SINCE our Country, our God – oh, my

sire ! Demand that thy daughter expire; Since thy triumph was bought by thy

Away! we know that tears are vain, That death nor heeds nor hears dis

tress: Will this unteach us to complain?

Or make one mourner weep the less? And thou — who tell'st me to forget, Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wel.


Strike the bosom that's bared for thee

now! And the voice of my mourning is o'er, And the mountains behold me no more: If the hand that I love lay me low, There cannot be pain in the blow! And of this, oh, my father! be sure — That the blood of thy child is as pure As the blessing I beg ere it flow, And the last thought that soothes me



SUFFERING CLAY, WHEN coldness wraps this suffering

clay, Ah! whither strays the immortal

mind? It cannot die, it cannot stay,

But leaves its darkened dust behind. Then, unembodied, doth it trace

By steps each planet's heavenly way? Or fill at once the realms of space,

A thing of eyes, that all survey? Eternal, boundless, undecayed,

A thought unseen, but seeing all,
All, all in earth, or skies displayed,

Shall it survey, shall it recall :
Each fainter trace that memory holds

So darkly of departed years,
In one broad glance the soul beholds,

And all, that was, at once appears. Before Creation peopled earth,

Its eye shall roll through chaos back;

Though the virgins of Salem lament,
Be the judge and the hero unbent!
I have won the great battle for thee,
And my father and country are free!
When this blood of thy giving hath

gushed, When the voice that thou lovest is

hushed, Let my memory still be thy pride, And forget not I smiled as I died !

And where the furthest heaven had But through it there rolled not the birth,

breath of his pride : The spirit trace its rising track, And the foam of his gasping lay white And where the future mars or makes,

on the turf, Its glance dilate o'er all to be, And cold as the spray of the rockWhile sun is quenchcd or system breaks, beating surf. Fixed in its own eternity.

And there lay the rider distorted and Above or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear,

pale, It lives all passionless and pure: With the dew on his brow and the rust An age shall fleet like earthly year;

on his mail; Its years as moments shall endure. And the tents were all silent, the banAway, away, without a wing,

ners alone, O'er all, through all, its thought shall | The lances unlifted, the trumpet unfly;

blown. A nameless and eternal thing, Forgetting what it was to die.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in

their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple

of Baal; THE DESTRUCTION OF And the might of the Gentile, unsmote SENNACHERIB.

by the sword,

Hath melted like snow in the glance of THE Assyrian came down like the wolf

the Lord ! on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in pur

ple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like STANZAS FOR MUSIC, stars on the sea,

(Miscellaneous Poems.) When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

THERE's not a joy the world can give

like that it takes away, Like the leaves of the forest when Sum

When the glow of early thought de mer is green,

clines in feeling's dull decay. That host with their banners at sunset

'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the

blush alone, which fades so fast, Like the leaves of the forest when

But the tender bloom of heart is gone, Autumn hath blown,

ere youth itself be past. That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

Then the few whose spirits float above

the wreck of happiness, For the Angel of Death spread his Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt or wings on the blast,

ocean of excess : And breathed in the face of the foe as The magnet of their course is gone, or he passed;

only points in vain And the eyes of the sleepers waxed

The shore to which their shivered sail deadly and chill,

shall never stretch again. And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

Then the mortal coldness of the soul

like death itself comes down; And there lay the steed with his nostrils It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare all wide,

not dream its own;

were seen:

That heavy chill has frozen o'er the

To sever for years, fountain of our tears,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold, And though the eye may sparkle still,

Colder thy kiss; 'tis where the ice appears.

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this. Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast,

The dew of the morning Through midnight hours that yield no

Sank chill on my brow more their former hope of rest;

I felt like the warning 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruined

Of what I feel now. turret wreath,

Thy vows are all broken, All green and wildly fresh without, but

And light is thy fame; worn and gray beneath.

I hear thy name spoken, Oh! could I feel as I have felt, or be

And share in its shame. what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept, They name thee before me, o'er many a vanished scene;

A knell to mine ear; As springs in deserts found seem sweet, A shudder comes o'er me all brackish though they be,

Why wert thou so dear? So midst the withered waste of life, They know not I knew thee, those tears would flow to me.

Who knew thee too well : Long, long shall I rue thee,

Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met —

In silence I grieve,
FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer

That thy heart could forget, For other's weal availed on high,

Thy spicit deceive. Mine will not all be lost in air,

If I should meet thee But waft thy name beyond the sky.

After long years, Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh:

How should I greet thee?
Oh! more than tears blood can tell,

With silence and tears.
When wrung from guilt's expiring eye,
Are in that word — Farewell!

These lips are mute, these eyes are dey;

But in my breast and in my brain, Fare thee well! and if for ever, Awake the pangs that pass not by,

Still for ever, fare thee well; The thought that ne'er shall sleep Even though unforgiving, never again.

'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. My soul nor deigns nor dares complain,

Though grief and passion there rebel : Would that breast were bared before I only know we loved in vain -

thee, I only feel — Farewell!— Farewell ! Where thy head so oft hath lain,

While that placid sleep came o'er thee

Which thou ne'er canst know again : WHEN WE TWO PARTED, Would that breast, by thee glanced over, WHEN we two parted

Every inmost thought could show!
In silence and tears,

Then thou wouldst at last discover
Half broken-hearted

'Twas not well to spurn it so.

Though the world for this commend But 'tis done - all words are idle thee

Words from me are vainer still; Though it smile upon the blow, But the thoughts we cannot bridle Even its praises must offend thee,

Force their way without the will. Founded on another's woe:

Fare thee well! — thus disunited, Although my many faults defaced me,

Torn from every nearer tie; Could no other arm be found,

Seared in heart, and lone, and blighted Than the one which once embraced me,

More than this I scarce can dic. To inflict a cureless wound? Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not: Love may sink by slow decay,

STANZAS TO AUGUSTA (LORD But by sudden wrench, believe not

BYRON'S SISTER). Hearts can thus be torn away; Though the day of my destiny's over,

And the star of my fate hath declined, Still thine own its life retaineth -- Thy soft heart refused to discover Still must mine, though bleeding, The faults which so many could find; beat;

Though thy soul with my grief was And the undying thought which pain

acquainted, eth

It shrunk not to share it with me, Is — that we no more may meet. And the love which my spirit hath

painted These are words of deeper sorrow

It never hath found but in thee. Than the wail above the dead; Both shall live, but every morrow

Then when nature around me is smiling, Wake us from a widowed bed.

The last smile which answers to mine,

I do not believe it beguiling, And when thou wouldst solace gather, Because it reminds me of 'thine;

When our child's first accents flow, And when winds are at war with the Wilt thou teach her to say “Father!”

ocean, Though his care she must forego? As the breasts I believed in with me,

If their billows excite an emotion, When her little hands shall press thee, It is that they bear me from thee.

When her lip to thine is pressed, Think of him whose prayer shall bless Though the rock of my last hope is thee,

shivered, Think of him thy love had blessed! And its fragments are sunk in the Should her lineaments resemble

Though I feel that my soul is delivered Those thou never more mayst see, To pain — it shall not be its slave. Then thy heart will softly tremble There is many a pang to pursue ine: With a pulse yet true to me.

They may crush, but they shall not

contemnAll my faults perchance thou knowest, They may torture, but shall not subdue

All my madness none can know; All my hopes, where'er thou goest,

'Tis of thee that I think Whither, yet with thee they go.

them. Every feeling hath been shaken; Though human, thou didst not deceive

Pride, which not a world could bow, Bows to thee — by thee forsaken,

Though woman, thou didst not for Even my soul forsakes me now:




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