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Marred his repose, the influxes of sense,
0, for Medea's wondrous alchemy, Which wheresoe'er it fell made the earth gleam With bright flowers, and the wintry boughs exhale From vernal blooms fresh fragrance! O, that God, 675 Profuse of poisons, would concede the chalice Which but one living man has drained, who now, Vessel of deathless wrath, a slave that feels No proud exemption in the blighting curse
He bears, over the world wanders for ever,
ΔΑΚΡΥΣΙ ΔΙΟΙΣΩ ΠΟΤΜ ON ΑΠΟΤΜ Ο Ν. .
[To COLERIDGE.] O! THERE are spirits of the air,
And genii of the evening breeze,
As star-beams among twilight trees :-
With mountain winds, and babbling springs,
And moonlight seas, that are the voice
Thou didst hold commune, and rejoice
And thou hast sought in starry eyes
Beams that were never meant for thine,
To a fond faith! still dost thou pine ?
Ah! wherefore didst thou build thine hope
On the false earth's inconstancy?
Of love, or moving thoughts to thee?
Yes, all the faithless smiles are fled
Whose falsehood left thee broken-hearted ;
Night's ghosts and dreams have now departed;
This fiend, whose ghastly presence ever
Beside thee like thy shadow hangs,
Would scourge thee to severer pangs.
AWAY! the moor is dark beneath the moon,
Rapid clouds have drank the last pale beam of even: Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon, And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.
Pause not! The time is past! Every voice cries, Away!
Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle mood: Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay:
Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.
Away, away! to thy sad and silent home;
Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth; Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come,
And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.
The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine
head: The blooms of dewy spring shall gleam beneath thy feet: But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds
the dead, Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou and
peace may meet.
The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose,
For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep: Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows ;
Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves, hath its appointed sleep. Thou in the grave shalt rest-yet till the phantoms flee Which that house and heath and garden made dear to
thee erewhile, Thy remembrance, and repentance, and deep musings are
not free From the music of two voices and the light of one sweet
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver, Streaking the darkness radiantly !-yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost for ever: . Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings
.Give various response to each varying blast, To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.
We rest.--A dream has power to poison sleep;
We rise.—One wandering thought pollutes the day; We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away :
It is the same !-For, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free:
Nought may endure but Mutability.