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I found the thing I sought--and that was thee ;
VII. I loved all solitude--but little thought To spend I know not what of life, remote From all cominunion with existence, save The maniac and his tyraut: had I been Their fellow, many years cre this had seen My mind like theirs corrupted to its grave ; But who hath seen me writhe, or heard me rave? Percbauce in such a cell we suffer more Than the wreck'd sailor on his desert shore; The world is all before him--mine is here, Scarce twice the space they must accord my bier. What though he perish, he may lift his eye And with a dying glance upbraid the sky?--I will not raise my own in such reproof, Although I is clouded by my dungeon roof.
VIII. Yet do I feel at times my mind decline, But with a scose of its decay:--I see L’owonted lights alony my prison shine, And a strange demon, who is vexing me With pilfering pranks and petty pains, below The feeling of the healthful and the free; But much to one, who long hath sufferd so, Sickness of heart, and narrowness of place, And all that may be borne, or cau debase. I thought mine coemies had been but man, But spirits may be leagued with them--all earila Abandons-leaven forgets me;- in the dearılı Of such defence the powers of evil can, I may be, tempi me further, and prevail Against the outworn creature they assail. Why in this furnace is my spirit proved Like steel in tempering fire! because I loved ! Because I loved what not to love, and see, Was more or less than mortal, and than me.
IX. I once was quick in feeling-that is o'er ;--My scars are callous, or I should have dashid My brain against these bars as the sun tlash'd In mockery through them ;-if I bear and bore The much I have recounted, and the more Which liath no words, 't is that I would not die And sanction with self-slaughter the dull lie Which snared me here, and with the brand of shame Stainp madness deep into my memory, And woo compassion to a blighted naine, Sealing the sentence which
sake. While thou Ferrarı! when no longer dwell The ducal chiefs within thee, shalt fall down, Aud crumbling piece-mcal view thy hearthless balls, A poet's wreath shall be thine only crown, A poet's dungeon thy most far renown, While strangers wonder o'er thy unpeopled walls' And thou, Leonora! thou- who wert ashamed That such as I could love-who blush a to lear To less than inonarchis that thou couldst be deur, Go! tell thy brother that iny heart, untamed By grief, years, weariness-and it may be A taint of that he would impute to me, From long infection of a den like this, Where the mind rots congenial with the abyss, Adores thee sull;-and add-that when the towers And buttlements which guard his joyous hours Of banquet, dance, and revel, are forgol, Or left untended in a dull repose, This-this shall be a consecrated spot! But thou—when all that birth and beauty throws Of magic round thiec is excinci-shait have One if the laure whichi o'ershades my grave. No power in death can tear our names apart, As none in life could rend thee from my heart. Yes, Leonora ! it shall be our fate To be entwined for ever-but too late!
The subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend, the Hon. D. Kinnaird, for a Selection of Hebrew Melodies, and have been publislied, with the music, arranged by Mr BrauAM and Mr NatuN.
And all that is best of dark and briglas
Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellowd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray
the less, Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
low dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
But tell of days in goodness speni,
A heari wiose love is innocent!
SUE WALKS IN BEAUTY,
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of coudless climes and starry skies,
But we must wander witheringly,
In other lands to die;
Our own may never lie:
THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
The king of men, the loved of Heaven,
O'er tones her heart of hearts had given.
Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven!
That felt not, fired not to the tone,
Till David's lyre grew mightier than bis throne!
It wafted glory to our God;
The cedars bow, the mountains nod;
Jus sound aspired to Heaven and there abode!
Devotion and her daughter Love
To sounds that seem as from above,
OH! WEEP FOR THOSE. On! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream; Weep for the barp of Judah's broken shell Mourn-where their God hath dwelt the godless dwell! And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet? And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet? And Judah's melody once more rejoice The hearts that leap'd before its heavenly voice? Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, Ilow shall
ye flee away and be at rest! The wild-dove hath ber pesi, the fox his cave, Mankind their country-Israel but the grave!
IF THAT HIGH WORLD. Is that high world, which lies beyond
Our own, surviving love endears; If there the cherish d heart be fond,
The eye the same, except in tearsHow 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: 't is 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 theirs !
ON JORDAN'S BANKS. On Jordan's banks the Arabs' camels stray, On Sion's hill the False One's votaries pray, The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steepYet there--even there-Oh God! thy thunders sleep : There-where thy finger scorch'd the tablet stone ! There-where thy shadow to thy people shone! Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire : Thyself -none living see and not expire! Oh! in the lightning let thy glance appear! Sweep from his shiver'd hand the oppressor's spear : How long by tyrants shall thy land be trod? How long thy temple worshipless, Oh God!
THE WILD GAZELLE.
Exulting yet may bound,
That gush on holy ground;
May glance in tameless transport by :A step as fleet, an eye more bright,
Hath Judah witness'd there ; And o'er her scenes of lost delight
Inhabitants more fair.
Than Israel's scatterd race;
In solitary grace:
JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER. SINCE our country, our God-Oh, my sire! Demand that thy daughter expire; Since thy triumph was bought by thy vowStrike the bosom that's bared for thce now! And the voice of my mourning is o'er, And the mountains bebold 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 sureThat the blood of thy child is as pure As the blessing I beg ere it flow, And the last thought that soothes me below. 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 gushd, When the voice that thou lovest is hushid, Let my memory still be thy pride, And forget not I smiled as I died!
The triumplis of her chosen sop,
The slaughters of his sword! The deeds he did, the fields he won,
The freedom he restored!
OII! SNATCH'D AWAY IN BEAUTY'S BLOOM.
On! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom,
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year;
Shall sorrow leau her drooping head,
And lingering pause, and lightly tread,
Foud wretcli! as if hier step disturb'd the dead ! Away! we know that tears are vain,
That death nor hiceds nor hears distress :
Or make one mourner weep the less ?
Though thou art fall'n, while we are free
Thou shall not taste of death! The
generous blood that flow'd from thee Disduond to sink beneith : Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath :
Thy name, our charging hosts along.
Shall be the battle-word! Thy fall, the theme of cloral song
From virgin voices pour'd! To weep would do thy glory wrong:
Thou shalt not be deplored.
SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE.
WARRIORS aud cliefs! should the shaft or the sword
MY SOUL IS DARK. My soul is dark. -Oh! quickly string
The barp I yet csn brook to hear; And let thy gentle lingers thing
Jis melio; murmurs per mine ear. If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall curm it forth again; If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
'T will flow, and cease to burn my brain :
But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first: I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this beavy heart will burst; For it hath been by sorrow purst,
And ached in sleepless silenre long; And now 't is doom'd to know the worst,
And break at once-or yield to song.
I SAW TIIEE WEEP.
I saw thee weep-the big bright tear
Came o'er that eye of blue;
A violei dropping dew :
Beside thee ceased to shine, li could not match the living rays
That filld that glance of thine. As clouds from yonder sun receive
A deep and mellow dye, Which scarce the sbade of coming eve
Cau banish from the sky,
Their owo pure joy import;
That lightens o'er the heart.
Tror whose spell can raise the dead,
Bid the prophet's form appear. « Samuel, raise thy buried head!
kin;, behold the plantom seer!» Cartlı ywn'd; he stood the centre of a cloud: Light changed in hue, retiring from his shroud Death stood all glassy in his fixed eye ; llis land was withers and lis veins were dry; lis foot, in bony wbiteness, glitter'd there, Shrunken and sinewless, and ghasily bare : From lips that moved not and unbreathing frame, Like cavernd winds, the hollow accents came. Saul saw, and fell to earth, as fills the oak, At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke.
« Why is my clerp disquieted ?
THY DAYS URE DOVE.
Tuy days are done, ily fume begun;
Thy country s strains record
And the falchion by thy side
An age shall fleet like earthly year ;
Its years as moments shall endure. Away, a way, without a wing,
O'er all, through all, its thoughts shall fly; A nameless and eternal thing,
Forgetting w bat it was to die.
« ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE PREACHER.» FAME, wisdom, love, and power were mine,
And health and youth possess'd me;
And lovely forms caress'd me;
And felt my soul grow tender;
Was mine of regal splendour.
Remembrance can discover,
Would Jure me to live over,
Of pleasure unembillerd;
That calld not while it glitter'd.
And spells, is won from farming;
Oh! who hath power of charming?
Nor music's voice can lure it;
The soul that must cudure it.
VISION OF BELSHAZZAR, The king was on his throne,
The satraps throng'd the ball; A thousand bright lamps shone
O'er that high festival. A thousand cups of gold,
In Judah deem d divineJehovah's vessels hold
The godless heathen's wine! In that same hour and hall,
The fingers of a land Came forth against the wall,
And wrote as if on sand : The fingers of a man,
A solitary hand Along the letters ran,
And traced them like a wand.
WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFERING
Ah, whither strays the imınortal mind?
But leaves its darken'd dust behind.
By steps each planet's heavenly way?
A thing of eyes, that all survey!
A thought unseen, but seeing all,
Shall it survey, shall it recal:
So darkly of departed years,
And all, that was, at once appears.
Its eye shall roll through chaos back :
The spirit trace its rising track.
Its flance dilate o'er all to be,
Fix'd in its own eternity.
Tulives all passionless and pure :
The monarch saw, and shook,
And bade no more rejoice;
Aud tremulous his voice. « Let the men of lore appear,
The wisest of the carth,
Which mar our royal mirth.» Chaldea's seers are good,
But here they have no skill; And the unknown letters stood,
Untol and awful still. And Babel's men of age
Are wise aud deep in lore; But now they were not sace,
They saw-but knew no more. A captive in the land,
A stranger and a youth,
Ile saw that writing's truth.
The prophecy in view; He read it on that night,
The morrow proved it true. « Belshazzar's grave is made,
Ilis kingdom pass d away; Be, in the balance weighid,
Is light and worthless clay. The shroud, his robe of state,
His canopy, the stove; The Mede is at his cate!
The Persian on his throne »
SUN OF TUE SLEEPLESS! Sun of the sleepless! melancholy star! Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far,
That show'st the darkness thou canst not dispel,
On many an eve, the high spot wlience I gazed
rays from the mountain that shone on thy shrine.
WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU
DEEMST IT TO BE.
Were my bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be,
BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT DOWY
I have lost for that faith more than thou canst bestow.
HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE,
We sat down and wept by the waters
Of Babel, and thought of the day When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters,
Made Salem's higle places his prey; And ye, oh lier desolate daughters!
Were scatter'd all weeping away. While sadly we gazed on the river
Which rollid on in freedom below, They demanded the song ; but, oli never
That triumph the stranger shall know! May this right hand be withier'd for ever,
Erc it string our higi harp for the foe! On the willow that harp is suspended, —
Ob Salem! its sound should be free;
But left ine that token of thee :
With the voice of the spoiler by me!
Ou, Mariamne! now for thee
The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding; Revenge is lost in agony,
And wild remorse to rage succeeding. Oh, Mariamne! where art thou ?
Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading : Ah, couldst thou-thou wouldst pardon now,
Though Heaven were lo my prayer unlieeding. And is she dead ?--and did they dare
Obey my frenzy's jealous raving?
The sword that smole her 's o'er me waving: But thou art cold, my murder 'd love!
And this dark heart is vainly craving For her who soars alone above,
And leaves my soul unworthy saving: She's fone, who shared
diadem! She sunk, with her my joys entoubing : I swept that flower from Judali's stem
Whose leaves for me alone were blooming And mine's the guilt, and mine the hell,
This boson's desolation dooming: And I have earn 'd those tortures well,
Which unconsumed are still consuming'
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIE. The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold: And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea. When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green. That lost with their banners at sunset were seen : Like the leaves of the forest whep autumn hath blosa, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, Aud breathed in the face of the foe as he passd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still.' And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, but through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride And the foam of his fasping lay wbite on the turf, ind cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew ou bis brow and the rust on his mail; and the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet uoblown. jud the widows of Ishur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Bial;
In the might of the Gentile, usmote by the “wer 1, liath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord'