By the hour of our parting-thus sweetly delayed,- ness, Pain, and peril — and hate - and contention - and sadness; Though changes the darkest and brightest betide,-Thy friendship shall soothe me, thy counsels shall guide, And thy memory at once be my solace and pride! LINES, WRITTEN IN THE ANGEL OF THE WORLD, AN ARABIAN TALE, BY THE REV. G. CROLY. I. Ir is a sunny vision-a deep dream— Too full of beauty for the heart to dwell, II. We turn away with dim, delirious sense From that so fervid blaze; and seek repose 104 ON THE ANGEL OF THE WORLD. From Eastern splendour and magnificence, From gorgeous palaces, and clouds of rose, Sceptres and thrones, and diamond-crested brows,Pluming our spirits' pinions at the page, Where sweet Floranthe warbles forth her woes In strains, of power each turbulent thought to 'suage, And bid the Passions cease their fierce, wild war, to wage! III. Surpassing Lyrist! from thy powerful hand, The thunders and keen lightnings of the Muse Speed forth in glorious might !-Thou canst command The noon-tide burst of poesy;-yet infuse Ere day's last rainbow-beams have vanished into shade! A FAREWELL. Have we not loved, as none have ever loved, MATURIN. I. YES, I will join the world again, And though my mirth may be but pain, At least it shall be loud! II. 'Tis true, to bend before the shrine Of heartless revelry, Is slavery to a soul like mine; Yet better thus in chains to pine, Than ever crouch to thee! III. Ay, better far to steep the soul Bid joy's unholy sounds controul The maddening thoughts that o'er it roll, Than wither 'neath thy pride. IV. Yet I have loved thee-ah, how well! V. The stubborn pride, none else might rein, Hath stooped to love and thee; But, as the pine upon the plain, Bent by the blast, springs up again, So shall it fare with me. |