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To honor thine abandoned Urn? No, no — it is my sorrow's pride
That last dear duty to fulfil; Though all the world forget beside,
'Tis meet that I remember still.
Redoubled be her tears, its chords are
riven! It softened men of iron mould,
It gave them virtues not their own; No ear so dull, no soul so cold,
That felt not, fired not to the tone, Till David's lyre grew mightier than
his throne !
For well I know, that such had been
Thy gentle care for him, who now Unmourned shall quit this mortal scene,
Where none regarded him, but thou: And, oh! I feel in that was given
A blessing never meant for me; Thou wert too like a dream of heaven,
For earthly Love to merit thee.
It told the triumphs of our King,
It wasted glory to our God;
The cedars bow, the mountains nod;
there abode ! Since then, though heard on earth no
more, Devotion and her daughter Love, Still bid the bursting spirit soar
To sounds that seem as from above, In dreams that day's broad light can
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY.
(Hebrew Melodies. SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes, and starry skies: And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless
grace, Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear their dwelling
place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
IF THAT HIGH WORLD. IF that high world, which lies beyond
Our own, surviving Love endears; If there the cherished heart be fond,
The eye the same, except in tears How welcome those untrodden spheres !
How sweet this very hour to die ! To soar from earth and find all fears,
Lost in thy light — Eternity! It must be so : 'tis not for self
That we so tremble on the brink; And striving to o'erleap the gulf,
Yet cling to Being's severing link. Oh! in that future let us think To hold each heart the heart that
shares, With them the immortal waters drink, And soul in soul grow deathless
THE HARP THE MONARCH
MINSTREL SWEPT. The harp the monarch minstrel swept, The King of men, the loved of
Heaven, Which Music hallowed while she wept O'er tones her heart of hearts had
ON JORDAN'S BANKS. On Jordan's banks the Arab's camels
stray, On Sion's hill the False One's votaries
OH! SNATCHED AWAY IN
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
The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steepYet there even there
O God! Thy 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
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
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 wet.
JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER. SINCE our Country, our God – oh, my
sire ! Demand that thy daughter expire; Since thy triumph was bought by thy
VOW 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
WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS
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?
Though the virgins of Salem lament,
gushed, When the voice that thou lovest is
hushed, Let my memory still be thy pride, And forget not I smiled as I died !
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;
To sever for years,
Colder thy kiss;
Sorrow to this.
That heavy chill has frozen o'er the
fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still,
'tis where the ice appears. Though wit may flash from fluent lips,
and mirth distract the breast, Through midnight hours that yield no
more their former hope of rest; 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruined
turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but
worn and gray beneath. Oh! could I feel as I have felt, or be
what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept,
o'er many a vanished scene; As springs in deserts found seem sweet,
all brackish though they be, So midst the withered waste of life,
those tears would flow to me.
The dew of the morning
Sank chill on my brow I felt like the warning
Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame; I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
Why wert thou so dear?
Who knew thee too well: — Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met
In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee
After long years, How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
FAREWELL! IF EVER FONDEST
PRAYER. FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer
For other's weal availed on high, Mine will not all be lost in air,
But waft thy name beyond the sky. 'Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh:
Oh! more than tears of blood can tell, When wrung from guilt's expiring eye, Are in that word — Farewell!
Farewell ! These lips are mute, these eyes are dry;
But in my breast and in my brain, Awake the pangs that pass not by, The thought that ne'er shall sleep
again. My soul nor deigns nor dares complain,
Though grief and passion there rebel : I only know we loved in vain
I only feel — Farewell ! — Farewell!
FARE THEE WELL.
FARE thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever, fare thee well; Even though unforgiving, never
'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before
thee, Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thec
Which thou ne'er canst know again : Would that breast, by thee glanced over,
Every inmost thought could show! Then thou wouldst at last discover
'Twas not well to spurn it so.
WHEN WE TWO PARTED.
In silence and tears,
Though the world for this commend
thee — Though it smile upon the blow, Even its praises must offend thee,
Founded on another's woe:
But 'tis done - all words are idle
Words from me are vainer still;
Force their way without the will.
Torn from every nearer tie;
More than this I scarce can dic.
Although my many faults defaced me,
Could no other arm be found,
To inflict a cureless wound?
Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not:
STANZAS TO AUGUSTA (LORD Love may sink by slow decay, 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.
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,
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
wave, 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 me: With a pulse yet true to me.
They may crush, but they shall not
contemn All 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 — not of 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,
me, Bows to thee by thee forsaken,
Though woman, thou didst not for. Even my soul forsakes me now: