« FöregåendeFortsätt »
OH! SNATCH'D AWAY IN BEAUTY'S BLOQM.
OR! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom,
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year, And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom :
And oft by yon blue gushing stream
Shall sorrow lean her drooping head,
And lingering pause, and lightly tread,
Away! we know that tears are vain,
That death nor heeds nor hears distress :
Or make one mourner weep the less?
eyes are wet.
MY SOUL IS DARK,
My soul is dark.-Oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear ; And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again ; If in these eyes there lurk a tear, ’T will flow, and cease to burn my
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 heavy heart will burst ; For it hath been by sorrow nurst,
And ached in sleepless silence long; And now 't is doom'd to know the worst,
And break at once-or yield to song.
I SAW THEE WEEP.
I saw thee weep, the big bright tear
Came o'er that eye of blue ;
A violet dropping dew:
Beside thee ceased to shine;
That fill?d that glance of thine.
As clouds from yonder sun receive
A deep and mellow dye,
Can banish from the sky,
Their own pure joy impart ;
That lightens o’er the heart.
THY DAYS ARE DONE.
The days are done, thy fame begun;
Thy country's strains record
The slaughters of his sword!
The freedom he restored!
Though thou art fall’n, while we are free
Thou shalt not taste of death! The generous blood that flow'd from thee
Disdain'd to sinķ beneath : Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath!
Thy name, our charging hosts along,
Shall be the battle-word!
From virgin voices pour'd !
Thou shalt not be deplored.
SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE.
WARRIORS and chiefs ! should the shaft or the sword
steel in the bosoms of Gath!
Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow,
Farewell to others, but never we part,
Thou whose spell can raise the dead,
Bid the prophet's form appear.
King, behold the phantom seer !”
saw, and fell to earth, as falls the oak, At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke.
“Why is my sleep disquieted ?
Fare thee well, but for a day;
“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.
WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFERING CLAY.
this suffering clay, Ah, whither strays the immortal mind? It cannot die, it cannot stay,
But leaves its darken'd dust behind. Then, unembodied, doth it trace
By steps each planet's heavenly way? Or Gill at once the realms of space,
A thing of eyes, that all survey?
Eternal, boundless, undecay'd,
A thought unseen, but seeing all, All, all in earth, or skies display'd,
Shall it survey, shall it recall : Each fainter trace that
And all, that was, at once appears.
eye shall roll through chaos back ; And where the furthest heaven had birth,
The spirit trace its rising track.
Its glance dilate o'er all to be,
Fix'd in its own eternity.
Above or love, hope, hate, or fear,
It lives all passionless and pure : An age shall fleet like earthly year ;
Its years as moments shall endure. Away, away, without a wing,
O'er all, through all, its thoughts shall fly; A nameless and eternal thing,
Forgetting what it was to die.
VISION OF BELSHAZZAR.
The king was on his throne,
The satraps throng'd the hall ;
O'er that high festival.