TO A

VOICE THAT HAD BEEN LOST,

Vane, quid affectas faciem mihi ponere, pictor?
Aëris et linguæ sum filia;

Et, si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum.

AUSONIUS.

ONCE more, Enchantress of the soul,

Once more we hail thy soft controul.

Yet whither, whither didst thou fly?

To what bright region of the sky?

Say, in what distant star to dwell?
(Of other worlds thou seemst to tell)
Or trembling, fluttering here below,

Resolv'd and unresolv'd to go,

In secret didst thou still impart

Thy raptures to the Pure in heart?

Perhaps to many a desert shore,

Thee, in his rage, the Tempest bore;

Thy broken murmurs swept along,

Mid Echoes yet untun'd by song;

Arrested in the realms of Frost,

Or in the wilds of Ether lost.

-Far happier thou! 'twas thine to soar,

Careering on the winged wind.

Thy triumphs who shall dare explore?

Suns and their systems left behind,

No tract of space, no distant star,

No shock of elements at war,

Did thee detain. To thee 'twas giv'n

To mingle with the choirs of Heav'n!

WHILE on the cliff with calm delight she kneels,

And the blue vales a thousand joys recall,

See, to the last, last verge her infant steals!
O fly-yet stir not, speak not, lest it fall.
Far better taught, she lays her bosom bare,
And the fond boy springs back to nestle there.

TO THE FRAGMENT OF

A STATUE OF HERCULES,

COMMONLY CALLED

THE TORSO.

AND dost thou still, thou mass of breathing stone,

(Thy giant limbs to night and chaos hurl'd)

Still sit as on the fragment of a world;

Surviving all, majestic and alone?

What tho' the Spirits of the North, that swept

Rome from the earth, when in her pomp she slept,

Smote thee with fury, and thy headless trunk

Deep in the dust mid tower and temple sunk;

Soon to subdue mankind 'twas thine to rise,
Still, still unquell'd thy glorious energies!