eyes— The life still there, upon her
hair—the death upon her eyes.
“Avaunt! to-night my heart is light.
No dirge will I upraise,
But waft the angel on her flight with
a paean of old days!
Let no bell toll!—lest
her sweet soul, amid its hallowed mirth,
Should catch the note, as it doth float
up from the damned Earth.
To friends above, from fiends below, the
indignant ghost is riven—
From Hell unto a high estate far up within
the Heaven—
From grief and groan to a golden throne
beside the King of Heaven.”
1844.
* * * *
*
Thou wast that all to me, love,
For which my soul did pine—
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
And all the flowers were mine.
Ah, dream too bright to last!
Ah, starry Hope! that didst
arise
But to be overcast!
A voice from out the Future
cries,
“On! on!”—but o’er
the Past
(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering
lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!
For, alas! alas! with me
The light of Life is o’er!
“No more—no more—no
more”—
(Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
Or the stricken eagle soar!
And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy dark eye glances,
And where thy footstep gleams—
In what ethereal dances,
By what eternal streams!
Alas! for that accursed time
They bore thee o’er
the billow,
From love to titled age and crime,
And an unholy pillow!
From me, and from our misty clime,
Where weeps the silver willow!
1835
* * * *
*
Type of the antique Rome! Rich reliquary
Of lofty contemplation left to Time
By buried centuries of pomp and power!
At length—at length—after
so many days
Of weary pilgrimage and burning thirst,
(Thirst for the springs of lore that in
thee lie,)
I kneel, an altered and an humble man,
Amid thy shadows, and so drink within
My very soul thy grandeur, gloom, and
glory!
Vastness! and Age! and Memories of Eld!
Silence! and Desolation! and dim Night!
I feel ye now—I feel ye in
your strength—
O spells more sure than e’er Judaean
king
Taught in the gardens of Gethsemane!
O charms more potent than the rapt Chaldee
Ever drew down from out the quiet stars!
