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What is this world's delight? Lightning that mocks the night, Brief even as bright.
Virtue, how frail it is! Friendship how rare! Love, how it sells poor bliss For proud despair! But we, though soon they fall, Survive their joy, and all Which ours we call.
Whilst skies are blue and bright, Whilst flowers are gay, Whilst eyes that change ere night Make glad the day; Whilst yet the calm hours creep, Dream thou-and from thy sleep Then wake to weep.
LINES WRITTEN ON HEARING THE NEWS OF THE DEATH OF NAPOLEON
WHAT! alive and so bold, oh earth?
What! leapest thou forth as of old
How! is not thy quick heart cold?
What spark is alive on thy hearth? How! is not his death-knell knolled?
And livest thou still, Mother Earth? Thou wert warming thy fingers old O'er the embers covered and cold
Of that most fiery spirit, when it fled-What, Mother, do you laugh now he is
As to oblivion their blind millions fleet, "Who has known me of old," replied Staining that Heaven with obscene Earth,
Of their own likeness. What are
Trembling at that where I had stood before;
By force or custom? Man who man When will return the glory of your prime? would be, No more Oh, never more!
Out of the day and night
Fresh spring, and summer, and winter
Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight
No more-Oh, never more!
Must rule the empire of himself; in it
"Do you not hear the Aziola cry? Methinks she must be nigh," Said Mary, as we sate
In dusk, ere stars were lit, or candles brought;
And I, who thought
This Aziola was some tedious woman,
The very comfort that they minister
I scarce can bear, yet I,
When I return to my cold home, you ask
Full half an hour, to-day, I tried my lot
Of wearing on my brow the idle mask
one still said,
"She loves me-loves me not." And if this meant a vision long since fled
If it meant fortune, fame, or peace of thought
If it meant,-but I dread
To speak what you may know too well:
Still there was truth in the sad oracle.
The crane o'er seas and forests seeks her home;
No bird so wild but has its quiet
When it no more would roam; The sleepless billows on the ocean's breast
Therefore, if now I see you seldomer,
that I only fly
Your looks, because they stir
Break like a bursting heart, and die in foam,
And thus at length find rest. Doubtless there is a place of peace Where my weak heart and all its throbs will cease.
Would ne'er have thus relieved His heart with words,-but what his judgment bade
Would do, and leave the scorner unrelieved.
These verses are too sad
To send to you, but that I know, Happy yourself, you feel another's woe.
ONE word is too often profaned
For thee to disdain it. One hope is too like despair
For prudence to smother, And pity from thee more dear Than that from another.
I can give not what men call love,
And the Heavens reject not, The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,
WHEN passion's trance is overpast,
It were enough to feel, to see,
After the slumber of the year
A BRIDAL SONG
gether, Kindle their image like a star
In a sea of glassy weather.
THE golden gates of Sleep unbar
Where Strength and Beauty met to- Fairies! sprites! and angels keep her! Holiest powers, permit no wrong! And return, to wake the sleeper,
Dawn, ere it be long.