And life in me: there was a horrid kind
Of sympathy between us, as if they
Had lost a part of death to come to me,
And I the half of life to sit by them,
We were in an existence all apart
From heaven or earth and rather let me see
Death all than such a being !
Myr.

And the end ?
Sar. At last I sate marble, as they, when rose
The hunter, and the crew; and smiling on me-
Yes, the enlarged but noble aspect of
The hunter smiled upon memI should say
His lips, for his eyes moved not_and the woman's
Thin lips relaxed to something like a smile.
Both rose, and the crown'd figures on each hand
Rose also, as if aping their chief shades
Mere mimics even in death-but I sate still :
A desperate courage crept through every limb,
And at the last I feared them not, but laugh'd
Full in their phantom faces. But then then
The hunter laid his hand on mine: I took it,
And grasp'd it, but it melted from my own,
While he too vanish'd, and left nothing but
The memory of the hero, for he look'd so.

Myr. And was the ancestor of heroes, too,
And thine no less.
Sar.

Ay, Myrrha, but the woman,
The female who remain'd, she flew upon me,
And burnt my lips up with her noisome kisses,
And, flinging down the goblets on each hand,
Methought their poisons flow'd around us, till
Each form'd a hideous river. Still she clung;
The other phantoms, like a row of statues,
Stood dull as in our temples, but she still

Embraced me, while I shrunk from her, as if,
In lieu of her remote descendant, I
Had been the son who slew her for her incest.
Then-then a chaos of all loathsome things
Throng'd thick and shapeless: I was dead yet feeling
Buried and raised again-consumed by worms,
Purged by the flames, and wither'd in the air !
I can fix nothing further of my thoughts,
Save that I longed for thee, and sought for thee,
In all these agonies, and woke and found thee.

Myr. So shalt thou find me ever at thy side,
Here and hereafter, if the last may be.
But think not of these things—the mere creations
Of late events acting upon a frame
Unused to toil, yet over-wrought by toil
Such as might try the sternest.
Sar.

I am better.
Now that I see thee once more, what was seen
Seems nothing.

SATAN AT HEAVEN'S GATE.
But bringing up the rear of this bright host,

A Spirit of a different aspect waved
His wings, like thunder-clouds above some coast

Whose barren beach with frequent wrecks is paved; His brow was like the deep when tempest-tost;

Fierce and unfathomable thoughts engraved
Eternal wrath on his immortal face,
And where he gazed a gloom pervaded space.

THE SHIPWRECK. 'Twas twilight, for the sunless day went down

Over the waste of waters ; like a veil,

Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown

Of one who hates us, so the night was shown, And grimly darkled o'er their faces pale,

And hopeless eyes, which o'er the deep alone Gazed dim and desolate; twelve days had Fear Been their familiar, and now Death was here. Some trial had been making at a raft,

With little hope in such a rolling sea,
A sort of thing at which one would have laugh'd,

If any laughter at such time could be,
Unless with people who too much have quaff’d,

And have a kind of wild and horrid glee,
Half epileptical, and half hysterical :
Their preservation would have been a miracle.
At half past eight o'clock, booms, hencoops, spars,

And all things, for a chance, had been cast loose, That still could keep afloat the struggling tars,

For yet they strove, although of no great use: There was no light in heaven but a few stars,

The boats put off o'ercrowded with their crews; She gave a heel, and then a lurch to port, And going down head foremost-sunk, in short, Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell,

Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave, Then some leap'd overboard with dreadful yell,

As eager to anticipate their grave;
And the sea yawn'd around her like a hell,

And down she suck'd with her the whirling wave,
Like one who grapples with his enemy,
And strives to strangle him before he die.
And first one universal shriek there rush'd,

Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash

Of echoing thunder : and then all was hushid,

Save the wild wind, and the remorseless dash
Of billows: but at intervals there gush'd,

Accompanied with a convulsive splash,
A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry
Of some strong swimmer in his agony.

There were two fathers in this ghastly crew,

And with them their two sons, of whom the one Was more robust and hardy to the view,

But he died early; and when he was gone, His nearest messmate told his sire, who threw

One glance on him, and said, “Heaven's will be I can do nothing," and he saw him thrown (done, Into the deep without a tear or groan. The other father had a weaklier child,

Of a soft cheek, and aspect delicate ; But the boy bore up long, and with a mild

And patient spirit held aloof his fate ; Little he said, and now and then he smiled,

As if to win a part from off the weight He saw increasing on his father's heart, With the deep deadly thought, that they must part. And o'er him bent his sire, and never raised

His eyes from off his face, but wiped the foam From his pale lips, and ever on him gazed,

And when the wish'd for shower at length was come, And the boy's eyes, which the dull film half glazed,

Brightened, and for a moment seem'd to roam,
He squeezed from out a rag some drops of rain
Into his dying child's mouth—but in vain.
The boy expired—the father held the clay,

nd looked upon it long, and when at last

Death left no doubt, and the dead burthen lay.

Stiff on his heart, and pulse and hope were past, He watch'd it wistfully, until away

'Twas borne by the rude wave wherein 'twas cast. Then he himself sunk down, all dumb and shivering, And gave no sign of life, save his limbs quivering. Now overhead, a rainbow, bursting through

The scattering clouds, shone-spanning the dark sea, Resting its bright base on the quivering blue:

And all within its arch appeared to be Clearer than that without, and its wide hue

Wax'd broad and waving, like a banner free, Then changed like to a bow that's bent, and then Forsook the dim eyes of these shipwreck'd men, It changed, of course; a heavenly cameleon,

The airy child of vapour and the sun, Brought forth in purple, cradled in vermilion.

Baptized in molten gold, and swathed in dun. Glittering like crescents o'er a Turk's pavilion,

And blending every colour into one.

With twilight it again came on to blow,

But not with violence; the stars shone out, The boat made way: yet now they were so low,

They knew not where nor what they were about. Some fancied they saw land, and some said “No!”

The frequent fog-banks gave them cause to doubt, Some swore that they heard breakers, others guns, And all mistook about the latter once. As morning broke, the light wind died away,

When he who had the watch sung out and swore If 'twas not land that rose with the sun's ray,

He wish'd that land he never might see more;