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FOR A DESIGN OF A BUTTERFLY RESTING
ON A SKULL.
CREATURE of air and light,
Emblem of that which may not fade or die,
To chase the south-wind through the glowing sky?
What lures thee thus to stay,
With Silence and Decay,
Fix'd on the wreck of cold Mortality?
The thoughts once chamber'd there,
Have gather'd up their treasures, and are gone-
They that have burst the prison-house are flown?
If thou wouldst trace their way
Earth hath no voice to make the secret known.
A BUTTERFLY RESTING ON A SKULL.
Who seeks the vanish'd bird
By the forsaken nest and broken shell?-
Yet free and joyous in the woods to dwell.
Take the bright wings of morn!
Thy hope calls heaven-ward from yon ruin'd cell.
THE LOST PLEIAD.
"Like the lost Pleiad seen no more below."
AND is there glory from the heavens departed? -Oh! void unmark'd !-thy sisters of the sky Still hold their place on high,
Though from its rank thine orb so long hath started, Thou, that no more art seen of mortal
Hath the night lost a gem, the regal night?
Though thou art exil'd thence
No desert seems to part those urns of light,
They rise in joy, the starry myriads burning-
To them the sailor's wakeful eye is turning
Unchang'd they rise, they have not mourn'd for thee.
Couldst thou be shaken from thy radiant place
Swept by the wind away?
Wert thou not peopled by some glorious race,
Why, who shall talk of thrones, of sceptres riven?
A world sinks thus-and yon majestic heaven
THE SLEEPER ON MARATHON.
I LAY upon the solemn plain
And by the funeral mound, Where those who died not there in vain, Their place of sleep had found. "Twas silent where the free blood gush'd, When Persia came array'd— So many a voice had there been hush'd, So many a footstep stay'd.
I slumber'd on the lonely spot,
I slumber'd-but my rest was not