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We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver, Streaking the darkness radiantly !-yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost for ever; Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings
Give various response to each varying blast, To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.
We rest-A dream has power to poison sleep;
We rise-One wandering thought pollutes the day; We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:
It is the same !-For, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free;
Nought may endure but Mutability.
the grave, whither thou goest.-ECCLESI ASTES. THE pale, the cold, and the moony smile
Which the meteor beam of a starless night
Ere the dawning of morn's undoubted light,
O man ! hold thee on in courage of soul
Through the stormy shades of thy worldly way. And the billows of cloud that around thee roll
Shall sleep in the light of a wondrous day, Where hell and heaven shall leave thee free To the universe of destiny.
This world is the nurse of all we know,
This world is the mother of all we feel,
To a brain unencompassed with nerves of steel;
TO * * * *
The secret things of the grave are there,
Where all but this frame must surely be,
No longer will live to hear or to see
Who telleth a tale of unspeaking death?
Who lifteth the veil of what is to come ?
The wide-winding caves of the peopled tomb?
TO • * * *
ΔΑΚΡΥΕΙ ΔΙΟΙΣΩ ΠΟΤΜOΝ ΑΠΟΤΜΟΝ.
Oh ! there are spirits in the air,
And genii of the evening breeze,
As star-beams among twilight trees :-
With mountain winds, and babbling springs,
And mountain seas, that are the voice
Thou didst hold commune, and rejoice
And thou hast sought in starry eyes
Beams that were never meant for thine,
To a fond faith! still dost thou pine ?
Ah ! wherefore didst thou build thine hope
On the false earth's inconstancy?
Of love, or moving thoughts to thee?
Yes, all the faithless smiles are fled
Whose falsehood left thee broken-hearted;
Night's ghosts and dreams have now departed;
Beside thee like thy shadow hangs,
Would scourge thee to severer pangs.
And all around
With a chilling sound,
Beneath the sinking moon.
The birds did rest
On the bare thorn's breast,
Which the frost bad made between.
Thine eyes glowed in the glare
As a fen-fire's beam
On a sluggish stream
That shook in the wind of night.
The night did shed
On thy dear head
Might visit thee at will.
STANZAS.-APRIL, 1814. Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon,
Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even : Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon,
And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven. Pause not! The time is past! Every voice cries, Away!
Tempt not with one last glance thy friend's ungentle mood : Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay
Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.
Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth;
And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.
head, The blooms of dewy spring shall gleam beneath thy feet : But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds
the dead, Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou and
peace may meet. The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose,
For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep; Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows;
Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves hath its appointed sleep. Thou in the grave shalt rest-yet till the phantoms flee Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee
erewhile, Thy remembrance, and repentance, and deep musings, are not From the music of two voices, and the light of one sweet smile.
FEELINGS OF A REPUBLICAN ON THE FALL OP
POEMS WRITTEN IN 1816.