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That likest thy Narcissus are ?
0, if thou have
Tell me but where,
JOHN MILTON, 1608–1674.
Like to the falling of a star,
HENRY KING, Bishop of Chichester, 1591-1669.
O No HOPE.
Reflected on the lake, I love
To see the stars of evening glow,
So restless in the wave below.
Thus heavenly Hope is all serene;
But earthly Hope, how bright soe’er,
Beauty still walketh on the earth and air,
The roses of the spring are ever fair,
There is an evening twilight of the heart
When its wild passion-waves are lull’d to rest, And the eye sees life’s fairy scenes depart,
As fades the day-dream in the rosy west. 'Tis with a nameless feeling of regret
We gaze upon them as they melt away,. And fondly would we bid them linger yet.
But Hope is 'round us with her angel lay, Hailing afar some happier moonlight hour; Dear are her whispers still, though lost their early power.
In youth the cheek was crimson'd with her glow
Her smile was loveliest then; her matin song Had heaven's own music, and the note of woe
Was all unheard her sunny bowers among. Life's little world of bliss was newly born;
We knew not, cared not, it was born to die,
With dancing heart we gazed on the pure sky,
Half realized her early dreams burst bright,
Its days of joy, its vigils of delight.
And the red lightnings threaten, still the air
The rainbow of the heart, was hovering there.
'Tis in life's noontide she is nearest seen, Her wreath the summer flower, her robe of summer green.
But though less dazzling in her twilight dress,
There's more of heaven's pure beam about her now; That angel-smile of tranquil loveliness,
Which the heart worships, glowing on her brow; That smile shall brighten the dim evening-star
That points our destined tomb, nor e'er depart
And hush'd the last deep beating of the heart;