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His eyes cast downward with ingenuous shame,
His conscious cheeks, conscious of praise or blame,
At once lit up as with a holy flame!

He thirsts for knowledge, speaks but to inquire;
And soon with tears relinquished to the sire,
Soon in his hand to Wisdom's temple led,
Holds secret converse with the mighty dead;
Trembles and thrills and weeps as they inspire,
Burns as they burn, and with congenial fire!"
Like her most gentle, most unfortunate,18

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Crowned but to die who in her chamber sate
Musing with Plato, though the horn was blown,
And every ear and every heart was won,
And all in green array were chasing down the sun!
Then is the Age of Admiration! 19 - Then
Gods walk the earth, or beings more than men;
Who breathe the soul of inspiration round,
Whose very shadows consecrate the ground!
Ah! then comes thronging many a wild desire,
And high imagining and thought of fire!
Then from within a voice exclaim's "Aspire!
Phantoms, that upward point, before him pass,
As in the cave athwart the wizard's glass;
They, that on youth a grace, a lustre shed,
Of every age- the living and the dead!
Thou, all-accomplished SURREY, thou art known;
The flower of knighthood, nipt as soon as blown!
Melting all hearts but Geraldine's alone!
And, with his beaver up, discovering there
One who loved less to conquer than to spare,
Lo! the Black Warrior, he, who, battle-spent,
Bare-headed served the captive in his tent!

Young B

in the groves of Academe,

Or where Ilyssus winds his whispering stream;
Or where the wild bees swarm with ceaseless hum,
Dreaming old dreams-a joy for years to come;
Or on the rock within the sacred fane;

21

Scenes such as MILTON sought, but sought in vain: 20
And MILTON's self (at that thrice-honored name
Well may we glow as men, we share his fame)-
And MILTON's self, apart with beaming eye,
Planning he knows not what that shall not die!
(0, in thy truth secure, thy virtue bold,
Beware the poison in the cup of gold,

The asp among the flowers! Thy heart beats high,
As bright and brighter breaks the distant sky!
But every step is on enchanted ground.

Danger thou lov'st, and Danger haunts thee round. A
Who spurs his horse against the mountain-side;
Then, plunging, slakes his fury in the tide?
Draws, and cries ho! and, where the sunbeams fall,
At his own shadow thrusts along the wall?
Who dances without music; and anon
Sings like the lark then sighs as woe-begone,
And folds his arms, and, where the willows wave,
Glides in the moonshine by a maiden's grave?
Come hither, boy, and clear thy open brow.
Yon summer-clouds, now like the Alps, and now
A ship, a whale, change not so fast as thou.

He hears me not!—Those sighs were from the heart.
Too, too well taught, he plays the lover's part.
He who at masques, nor feigning nor sincere,
With sweet discourse would win a lady's ear,

Lie at her feet and on her slipper swear
That none were half so faultless, half so fair,
Now through the forest hies, a stricken deer,
A banished man, flying when none are near;
And writes on every tree, and lingers long
Where most the nightingale repeats her song;
Where most the nymph, that haunts the silent grove,
Delights to syllable the names we love.

Two on his steps attend, in motley clad;

One woful-wan, one merry but as mad;

Called Hope and Fear. Hope shakes his cap and bells,
And flowers spring up among the woodland dells.
To Hope he listens, wandering without measure
Through sun and shade, lost in a trance of pleasure;
And, if to Fear but for a weary mile,

Hope follows fast and wins him with a smile.
At length he goes a pilgrim to the shrine,
And for a relic would a world resign!

A glove, a shoe-tie, or a flower let fall

What though the least, Love consecrates them all!
And now he breathes in many a plaintive verse;
Now wins the dull ear of the wily nurse

At early matins ('t was at matin-time
That first he saw and sickened in his prime),
And soon the Sibyl, in her thirst for gold,
Plays with young hearts that will not be controlled.
"Absence from thee as self from self it seems
Scaled is the garden-wall; and, lo! her beams
Silvering the east, the moon comes up, revealing
His well-known form along the terrace stealing.
– O, ere in sight he came, 't was his to thrill
A heart that loved him though in secret still.

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"Am I awake? or is it . . . can it be An idle dream? Nightly it visits me!

That strain," she cries, "as from the water rose;
Now near and nearer through the shade it flows!
Now sinks departing-sweetest in its close!"
No casement gleams; no Juliet, like the day,
Comes forth and speaks and bids her lover stay.
Still, like aërial music heard from far

As through the doors of Paradise ajar,
Nightly it rises with the evening-star.

"She loves another! Love was in that sigh!
On the cold ground he throws himself to die.
Fond youth, beware! Thy heart is most deceiving.
Who wish are fearful; who suspect, believing.

And soon her looks the rapturous truth avow.
Lovely before, O, say how lovely now! 23

She flies not, frowns not, though he pleads his cause;
Nor yet nor yet her hand from his withdraws;
But by some secret power surprised, subdued,
(Ah! how resist? And would she if she could?)
Falls on his neck as half unconscious where,
Glad to conceal her tears, her blushes, there.
Then come those full confidings of the past;
All sunshine now, where all was overcast.
Then do they wander till the day is gone,
Lost in each other; and when night steals on,
Covering them round, how sweet her accents are!
O, when she turns and speaks, her voice is far,
Far above singing! But soon nothing stirs
To break the silence-joy like his, like hers,
Deals not in words; and now the shadows close,
Now in the glimmering, dying light she grows

Less and less earthly! As departs the day,
All that was mortal seems to melt away,
Till, like a gift resumed as soon as given,
She fades at last into a spirit from Heaven!

Then are they blest indeed; and swift the hours
Till her young sisters wreathe her hair in flowers,
Kindling her beauty—while, unseen, the least
Twitches her robe, then runs behind the rest,
Known by her laugh that will not be suppressed.
Then before All they stand the holy vow
And ring of gold, no fond illusions now,
Bind her as his. Across the threshold led,
And every tear kissed off as soon as shed,
His house she enters there to be a light
Shining within, when all without is night;
A guardian-angel o'er his life presiding,
Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing;
Winning him back, when mingling in the throng,
From a vain world we love, alas! too long,
To fireside happiness, and hours of ease
Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.
How oft her eyes read his! her gentle mind
To all his wishes, all his thoughts inclined;
Still subject ever on the watch to borrow
Mirth of his mirth, and sorrow of his sorrow.
The soul of music slumbers in the shell,
Till waked and kindled by the master's spell;
And feeling hearts-touch them but rightly
A thousand melodies unheard before ! 24

Nor many moons o'er hill and valley rise Ere to the gate with nymph-like step she flies,

— pour

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