II.

On seeing the Elgin Marbles.

My spirit is too weak—mortality

Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,
And each imagin'd pinnacle and steep
Of godlike hardship, tells me I must die
Like a sick Eagle looking at the sky.
Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep

That I have not the cloudy winds to keep,
Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye.
Such dim-conceived glories of the brain.

Bring round the heart an undescribable feud; So do these wonders a most dizzy pain,

That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude Wasting of old Time-with a billowy mainA sun-a shadow of a magnitude.

SONNET.

ON A PICTURE OF LEANDER.

COME hither all sweet maidens soberly,
Down-looking aye, and with a chasten'd light,
Hid in the fringes of your eyelids white,
And meekly let your fair hands joined be,
As if so gentle that ye could not sce,

Untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright,
Sinking away to his young spirit's night,-
Sinking bewilder'd 'mid the dreary sea:

'Tis young Leander toiling to his death;
Nigh swooning, he doth purse his weary lips

For Hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile. O horrid dream! see how his body dips

Dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile: He's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!

ΤΟ

I.

THINK not of it, sweet one, so ;—

Give it not a tear;

Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go

Any, any where.

2.

Do not look so sad, sweet one,—

Sad and fadingly;

Shed one drop, then it is gone,

O'twas born to die.

3.

Still so pale? then dearest weep;
Weep, I'll count the tears,
And each one shall be a bliss

For thee in after years.

4.

Brighter has it left thine eyes
Than a sunny rill;

And thy whispering melodies

Are tenderer still.

5.

Yet-as all things mourn awhile
At fleeting blisses;

E'en let us too; but be our dirge
A dirge of kisses.

LINES.

I.

UNFELT, unheard, unseen,

I've left my little queen,
Her languid arms in silver slumber lying:
Ah! through their nestling touch,
Who-who could tell how much
There is for madness-cruel, or complying?

2.

Those faery lids how sleek!

Those lips how moist !-they speak, In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds:

Into my fancy's ear

Melting a burden dear,

How "Love doth know no fullness, and no bounds."

3.

True-tender monitors!

I bend unto your laws:

This sweetest day for dalliance was born!

So, without more ado,

I'll feel my heaven anew,

For all the blushing of the hasty morn.

SONNET.

ON THE SEA.

It keeps eternal whisperings around

Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound. Often 'tis in such gentle temper found,

That scarcely will the very smallest shell

Be mov'd for days from whence it sometime fell, When last the winds of heaven were unbound. Oh ye! who have your eye-balls vex'd and tir'd, Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;

Oh ye! whose ears are dinn'd with uproar rude, Or fed too much with cloying melody,

Sit ye near some old cavern's mouth, and brood Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quir'd!

SONNET.

On Leigh Hunt's Poem "The Story of Rimini."

WHO loves to peer up at the morning sun,

With half-shut eyes and comfortable cheek, Let him, with this sweet tale, full often seek For meadows where the little rivers run;

Who loves to linger with that brightest one

Of Heaven-Hesperus-let him lowly speak
These numbers to the night, and starlight meek,

Or moon, if that her hunting be begun.

He who knows these delights, and too is prone
To moralize upon a smile or tear,

Will find at once a region of his own,

A bower for his spirit, and will steer
To alleys where the fir-tree drops its cone,
Where robins hop, and fallen leaves are sear.

FRAGMENT.

WHERE'S the Poet? show him! show him,

Muses nine! that I may know him!
'Tis the man who with a man

Is an equal, be he King,
Or poorest of the beggar-clan,

Or any other wondrous thing

A man may be 'twixt ape and Plato; 'Tis the man who with a bird, Wren, or Eagle, finds his way to

All its instincts; he hath heard The Lion's roaring, and can tell What his horny throat expresseth, And to him the Tiger's yell

Comes articulate and presseth On his ear like mother-tongue.