TO THYRZA. WITHOUT a stone to mark the spot, And say, what truth might well have said, By all, save one, perchance forgot, Ah, whererefore art thou lowly laid? By many a shore and many a sea To bid us meet - no ne'er again! That softly said, "We part in peace," Had taught my bosom how to brook, With fainter sighs, thy soul's release. And didst thou not, since Death for thee Who held, and holds thee in his heart? Oh! who like him had watched thee here? Till all was past? But when no more Shall they not flow, when many a day Affection's mingling tears were ours? Ours too the glance none saw beside; The kiss, so guiltless and refined That Love each warmer wish forbore, Those eyes proclaimed so pure a mind, Even passion blushed to plead for more. The tone, that taught me to rejoice, The pledge we wore I wear it still, But where is thine?-ah, where art thou? Oft have I borne the weight of ill, But never bent beneath till now! Well hast thou left in life's blest bloom I would not wish thee here again; But if in worlds more blest than this Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere, Impart some portion of thy bliss, To wean me from mine anguish here. Teach me too early taught by thee! It fain would form my hope in heaven! SONNET. TO GENEVRA. THINE eyes' blue tenderness, thy long fair hair, That but I know thy blessed bosom fraught With mines of unalloyed and stainless thought — I should have deemed thee doomed to earthly care. With such an aspect, by his colors blent When from his beauty-breathing pencil oorn, (Except that thou hast nothing to repent,) The Magdalen of Guido saw the morn Such seem'st thou - but how much more excellent! With naught Remorse can claim, nor Virtue scorn. STANZAS. AWAY, away, ye notes of woe, Be silent, thou once soothing strain, I dare not trust those sounds again. On what I am on what I was. The voice that made those sounds more sweet A dirge, an anthem o'er the dead! Is worse than discord to my heart! "Tis silent all! - but on my ear The well-remembered echoes thrill; I hear a voice I would not hear, A voice that now might well be still; Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep, Then turned from earth its tender beam. Must pass, when heaven is veiled in wrath, Will long lament the vanished ray That scattered gladness o'er his path. ΤΟ OH Lady! when I left the shore, The distant shore, which gave me birth, Yet here, amidst this barren isle, I view my parting hour with dread. Though far from Albin's craggy shore, But wheresoe'er I now may roam, |