Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover! And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, The shadow of the dome of pleasure Where was heard the mingled measure It was a miracle of rare device, A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw : It was an Abyssinian maid, Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me To such a deep delight 'twould win me That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caves of ice! THE PAINS OF SLEEP. ERE on my bed my limbs I lay, No wish conceived, no thought exprest, But yester-night I prayed aloud Up-starting from the fiendish crowd Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me: A lurid light, a trampling throng, Sense of intolerable wrong, And whom I scorned, those only strong! Thirst of revenge, the powerless will Still baffled, and yet burning still! Desire with loathing strangely mixed Deeds to be hid which were not hid, So two nights passed the night's dismay The third night, when my own loud scream And having thus by tears subdued The unfathomable hell within To know and loathe, yet wish and do! And whom I love, I love indeed. LIMBO. 'Tis a strange place, this Limbo-not a Place, Lank Space, and scytheless Time with branny hands Not mark'd by flit of Shades,-unmeaning they But that is lovely-looks like human Time,- That stops his earthly task to watch the skies; With scant white hairs, with foretop bald and high, As 'twere an organ full of silent sight, His whole face seemeth to rejoice in light!— не seems to gaze at that which seems to gaze on him! Hell knows a fear far worse, A fear-a future state;-'tis positive Negation! NE PLUS ULTRA. SOLE Positive of Night! Fate's only essence! primal scorpion rod— Arms the Grasp enorm― The Intercepter The Substance that still casts the shadow Death!- The unrevealable, And hidden one, whose breath Gives wind and fuel to the fires of Hell! Ah! sole despair Of both th' eternities in Heaven! Sole interdict of all-bedewing prayer, Save to the Lampads Seven Reveal'd to none of all th' Angelic State, That watch the throne of Heaven! Ar the house of a gentleman, who, by the principles and corresponding virtues of a sincere Christian, consecrates a cultivated genius and the favorable accidents of birth, opulence, and splendid connections, it was my good fortune to meet, in a dinner-party, with more men of celebrity in science or polite literature, than are commonly found collected round the same table. In the course of conversation, one of the party reminded an illustrious poet, then present, of some verses which he had recited that morning, and which had appeared in a newspaper under the name of a War-Eclogue, in which Fire, Famine, and Slaughter were introduced as the speakers. The gentleman so addressed replied, that he was rather surprised that none of us should have noticed or heard of the poem, as it had been, at the time, a good deal talked of in Scotland. It may be easily supposed, that my feelings were at this moment not of the most comfortable kind. Of all present, one only knew, or suspected me to be the author; a man who would have established himself in the first rank of England's living poets, if the Genius of our country had not decreed that he should rather be the first in the first rank of its philosophers and scientific benefactors. It appeared the general wish to hear the lines. As my friend chose to remain silent, I chose to follow his example, and Mr. ***** recited the poem. This he could do with the better grace, being known to have ever been not only a firm and active Anti-Jacobin and Anti-Gallican, but likewise a zealous admirer of Mr. Pitt, both as a good man and a great statesman. As a poet exclusively, he had been amused with the Eclogue; as a poet he recited it; and in a spirit, which made it evident, that he would have read and repeated it with the same pleasure, had his own name been attached to the imaginary object or agent. : After the recitation, our amiable host observed, that in his opinion Mr. ***** had overrated the merits of the poetry; but had they been tenfold greater, they could not have compensated for that malignity of heart, which could alone have prompted sentiments so atrocious. I perceived that my illustrious friend became greatly distressed on my account; but fortunately I was able to preserve fortitude and presence of mind enough to take up the subject without exciting even a suspicion how nearly and painfully it interested me. |