In this bad world, when mists and couchant storms
Hide Heaven's fine circlet, springs aloft in faith
Above the clouds that threat him, to the fields
Of ether, where the day is never veil'd
With intervening vapours; and looks down
Serene upon the troublous sea, that hides
The earth's fair breast, that sea whose nether face
To grovelling mortals frowns and darkens all;
But on whose billowy back, from man conceal'd
The glaring sunbeam plays.
LO! on the eastern summit, clad in grey,
Morn, like a horseman girt for travel, comes;
And from his tower of mist,
Night's watchman hurries down,
THERE was a little bird upon
It perch'd upon a ruined pinnacle,
And made sweet melody.
The song was soft, yet cheerful, and most clear,
For other note none swell'd the air but his.
It seem'd as if the little chorister,
Sole tenant of the melancholy pile,
Were a lone hermit, outcast from his kind,
Yet withal cheerful.-I have heard the note
Echoing so lonely o'er the aisle forlorn,
-Much musing-
O PALE art thou, my lamp, and faint
Thy melancholy ray;
When the still night's unclouded saint
Through my lattice leaf-embower'd, '
Fair she sheds her shadowy beam;
And o'er my silent sacred room,
Casts a checquer'd twilight gloom;
I throw aside the learned sheet,
I cannot chuse but gaze, she looks so mildly sweet.
Sad vestal why art thou so fair,
Or why am I so frail?
Methinks thou lookest kindly on me, Moon,
And cheerest my lone hours with sweet regards! Surely like me thou'rt sad, but dost not speak Thy sadness to the cold unheeding croud; So, mournfully compos'd, o'er yonder cloud Thou shinest, like a cresset, beaming far From the rude watch-tower, o'er the Atlantic wave,
O GIVE me music-for my soul doth faint;
I am sick of noise and care, and now mine ear
Longs for some air of peace, some dying plaint,
That may the spirit from its cell unsphere.
Hark how it falls! and now it steals along,
Like distant bells upon the lake at eve,
When all is still; and now it grows more strong,
As when the choral train their dirges weave,
Mellow and many-voiced; where every close,
O'er the old minster roof, in echoing waves reflows.
Oh! I am wrapt aloft. My spirit soars
Beyond the skies, and leaves the stars behind.
Lo! angels lead me to the happy shores,
And floating pæans fill the buoyant wind.
Farewell! base earth, farewell! my soul is freed,
Far from its clayey cell it springs,-
AH! who can say, however fair his view,
Through what sad scenes his path may lie!
Ah! who can give to others' woes his sigh,
Secure his own will never need it too!
Let thoughtless youth its seeming joys pursue,
Soon will they learn to scan, with thoughtful eye, The illusive past and dark futurity;
AND must thou go, and must we part!
Yes, Fate decrees, and I submit ;
The pang that rends in twain my heart,
Oh, Fanny, dost thou share in it!
Thy sex is fickle,—when away,
Some happier youth may win thy
WHEN I sit musing on the checquer'd pasî,
(A term much darken'd with untimely woes,)
My thoughts revert to her, for whom still flows
The tear, though half disown'd ;--and binding fast
Pride's stubborn cheat to my too yielding heart,
I say to her, she robb'd me of my rest,
When that was all my wealth.-'Tis true my breast
Received from her this wearying lingering smart ;
Yet ah! I cannot bid her form depart;
Though wrong'd, I love her-yet in anger love, For she was most unworthy.-Then I prove Vindictive joy; and on my stern front gleams, Thron'd in dark clouds, inflexible
The native pride of my much injur’d heart.
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