Bi se ad dar irgi beat or b
Like that is rvi ila via i had svent
Geraris i fer bicom. hedres, where
Blossom 1 the levitern and the homeysarkle:—
That be me Tage more and be would come
I: is dear Elen and her recage bime—
Lovell there in love and peace. And then be kiss'd
Her tears away, talk of the pleaSEZİ YERS
Which they should pass together-f the pride
He would take in his constancy. Oh hope
Is very eloquent; and as the boars
Pam'd by their fireside in calm cheerfulness.
Elen forgot to weep.
Of parting came; 'twas the first month of spring.
Like a green fan spread the horse-chesnut leaves,
A shower of yellow bloom was on the elm,
The daisies shone like silver, and the boughs
Were cover'd with their blossoms, and the sky
Was like an augury of hope, so clear
So beautifully blue. Love! oh young Love!
Why hast thou not security? Thou art
Like a bright river on whose course the weeds
Are thick and heavy: briars are on its banks,
And jagged stones and rocks are 'mid its waves.
Conscious of its own beauty, it will rush
Over its many obstacles, and pant
For some green valley as its quiet home.
Either it rushes with a desperate leap
Over its barriers, foaming passionate,
But prison'd still; or winding languidly
Becomes dark like oblivion, or else wastes
Itself away. This is Love's history !
They parted one spring evening; the green sea
Had scarce a curl upon its wave: the ship
Rode like a Queen of Ocean,-Ellen wept,
But not disconsolate, for she had hope;
She knew not then the bitterness of tears.
But night closed in, and with the night there came
Tempest upon the wind; the ocean light
Glared like a funeral pile; all else was black
And terrible as death.
Come from the ocean-one lone signal gun,
Asking for help in vain-follow'd by shrieks,
Borne by the ravening gale; then deepest silence;
Some gallant souls had perish'd. With the first
Dim light of morn we sought the beach; and there
Lay fragments of a ship, and human shapes,
A sight of living misery, met our gaze;
Ghastly and gash'd. But the worst sight of all
Seated upon a rock, drench'd by the rain,
Her hair torn by the wind, there Ellen sat,
Pale, motionless. How could love guide her there ?
A corpse lay by her, in her arms its head
Found a fond pillow; and o'er it she watch'd
As the young mother watches her first child.
It was her lover!
A SENSITIVE Plant in a garden grew,
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,
And it open'd its fan-like leaves to the light,
And closed them beneath the kisses of night.
And the Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt every where;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
The snow-drop, and then the violet,
Arose from the ground with warm rain wet,
And their breath was mix'd with fresh odours, sent
From the turf, like the voice and the instrument.
Then the pied-wind flowers, and the tulip tall,
And narcissi, the fairest among them all,
Who gaze on their eyes in the stream's recess,
Till they die of their own dear loveliness;
And the Naiad-like lily of the vale,
Whom youth makes so fair, and passion so pale, That the light of its tremulous bells is seen Through their pavilions of tender green;
And the hyacinth, purple and white, and blue,
Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew
Of music so delicate, soft, and intense,
It was felt like an odour within the sense;
And the wand-like lily, which lifted up,
As a Mænad, its moonlight-colour'd cup,
Till the fiery star, which is its eye,
Gazed through clear dew on the tender sky;
And the jessamine faint, and the sweet tuberose,
The sweetest flower for scent that blows;
And all rare blossoms from every clime,
Grew in that garden in perfect prime.
And on the stream whose inconstant bosom
Was prankt under boughs of embowering blossom,
With golden and green light slanting through
Their heaven of many a tangled hue,
Broad water-lilies lay tremulously,
And starry river-buds glimmer'd by,
And around them the soft stream did glide and dance, With a motion of sweet sound and radiance.
And the sinuous paths of lawn and of moss,
Which led through the garden along and across,
Some open at once to the sun and the breeze,
Some lost among bowers of blossoming trees,
Were all paved with daisies and delicate bells,
As fair as the fabulous asphodels;
And flowrets, which drooping as day droop'd too,
Fell into pavilions, white, purple, and blue,
To roof the glow-worm from the evening dew.
And from this undefiled Paradise
The flowers (as an infant's awakening eyes
Smile on its mother, whose singing sweet
Can first lull, and at last must awaken it,)
When Heaven's blithe winds had unfolded them,
As mine-lamps enkindle a hidden gem,
Shone smiling to Heaven, and every one
Shared joy in the light of the gentle sun;
For each one was interpenetrated
With the light and the odour its neighbour shed, Like young lovers whom youth and love make dear, Wrapp'd and fill'd by their mutual atmosphere.
But the Sensitive Plant which could give small fruit
Of the love which it felt from the leaf to the root,
Received more than all, it loved more than ever,
Where none wanted but it, could belong to the giver—
For the Sensitive Plant has no bright flower;
Radiance and odour are not its dower;
It loves, even like Love, its deep heart is full,
It desires what it has not, the beautiful!
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