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If that high world, which lies beyond

Our own, surviving Love endears ;
If there the cherish'd heart be ford,

The eye the same, except in tearsHow welcome those untrodden spheres !

How sweet this very hour to die ! To soar from earth and find all fears

Lost in thy light-Eternity !It must be so : 'tis not for self

That we so tremble on the brink; And striving to o’erleap the gulf,

Yet cling to Being's severing link.
Oh! in that future let us think

To hold each heart the heart that shares,
With them the immortal waters drink,
And soul in soul grow deathless theirs.

Oh, snatch'd away in beauty's bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;

But on thy turf shall roses rear

Their leaves, the earliest of the year; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom. And oft by yon blue gushing stream

Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, And feed deep thought with many a dream,

And lingering pause and lightly tread; Fond wretch ! as her step disturb'd the dead ! Away! we know that tears are vain,

That death nor heeds nor hears distress : Will this unteach us to complain ?

Or make one mourner weep the less ?

And thou—who tell'st me to forget,
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.

My soul is dark-Oh! quickly string

The harp I yet can brook to hear;
And let thy gentle fingers fling

Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. If in this heart a hope be dear,

That sound shall charm it forth again ; If in these eyes there lurk a tear,

'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain : But bid the strain be wild and deep,

Nor let thy notes of joy be first: I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,

Or else this heavy heart will burst ; For it hath been by sorrow nurst,

And ached in sleepless silence long;
And now 'tis doom'd to know the worst,
And break at once-or yield to song.

I saw thee weep-the big bright tear

Came o'er that eye of blue;
And then methought it did appear

A violet dropping dew :
I saw thee smile—the sapphire's blaze

Beside thee ceased to shine;
It could not match the living rays

That fill'd that glance of thine.
As clouds from yonder sun receive

A deep and mellow dye,
Which scarce the shade of coming eve

Can banish from the sky,

Those smiles unto the moodiest mind

Their own pure joy impart ;
Their sunshine leaves a glow behind
That lightens o'er the heart.

When coldness wraps this suffering clay,

Ah, whither strays the immortal mind? It cannot die it cannot stay,

But leaves its darkened dust behind. Then, unembodied, doth it trace

By steps each planet's heavenly way? Or fill at once the realms of space,

A thing of eyes, that all survey ? Eternal, boundless, undecayed,

A thought unseen, but seeing allAll, all in earth, or skies display'd,

Shall it survey, shall it recall :
Each fainter trace that memory holds

So darkly of departed years,
In one broad glance the soul beholds,

And all that was, at once appears.
Before Creation peopled earth,

Its eye shall roll through chaos back; And where the furthest heaven had birth,

The spirit trace its rising track. And where the future mars or makes,

Its glance dilate o'er all to be,
While sun is quench'd or system breaks,

Fix'd in its own eternity.
Above or. Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear,

It lives all passionless and pure :
An age shall fleet like earthly year ;

Its years as moments shall endure.

Away, away, without a wing,

O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly;
A nameless and eternal thing,

Forgetting what it was to die.


Sun of the sleepless ! melancholy star!
Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far,
That show'st the darkness thou canst not dispel,
How like art thou to joy remembered well !
So gleams the past, the light of other days,
Which shines, but warms not with its powerless rays;
A night-beam Sorrow watcheth to behold,
Distinct, but distant-clear-but, oh, how cold !


THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew

still ! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride:

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf,
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord !


White as a white sail on a dusky sea,
When half the horizon's clouded and half free,
Fluttering between the dun wave and the sky,
Is hope's last gleam in man's extremity.
Her anchor parts ; but still her snowy sail
Attracts our eye amidst the rudest gale :
Though every wave she climbs divides us more,
The heart still follows from the loneliest shore.

A VICE-HUSBAND. 'Tis said that their last parting was pathetic,

As partings often are, or ought to be, And their presentiment was quite prophetic

That they should never more each other see, (A sort of morbid feeling, half poetic,

Which I have known occur in two or three,)
When kneeling on the shore upon her sad knee,
He left this Adriatic Ariadne.
And Laura waited long, and wept a little,

And thought of wearing weeds, as well she might;

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