XXIV.

In vain they look for the ungracious bloom Of rich apparel where it glow'd before,-- For Vanity has faded all to gloom, And lofty Pride has stiffen'd to the core, For impious Life to tremble at its doom,-- Set for a warning token evermore, Whereon, as now, the giddy and the wise Shall gaze with lifted hands and wond'ring eyes.

XXV.

The aged priest goes on each Sabbath morn, But shakes not sorrow under his gray hair; The solemn clerk goes lavender'd and shorn Nor stoops his back to the ungodly pair;-- And ancient lips that pucker'd up in scorn, Go smoothly breathing to the house of pray'r; And in the garden-plot, from day to day, The lily blooms its long white life away.

XXVI.

And where two haughty maidens used to be, In pride of plume, where plumy Death had trod, Trailing their gorgeous velvets wantonly, Most unmeet pall, over the holy sod; There, gentle stranger, thou may'st only see Two sombre Peacocks.

Age, with sapient nod Marking the spot, still tarries to declare How they once lived, and wherefore they are there.

HYMN TO THE SUN.

Giver of glowing light!

Though but a god of other days, The kings and sages Of wiser ages Still live and gladden in thy genial rays!

King of the tuneful lyre, Still poets' hymns to thee belong; Though lips are cold Whereon of old Thy beams all turn'd to worshipping and song!

Lord of the dreadful bow, None triumph now for Python's death; But thou dost save From hungry grave The life that hangs upon a summer breath.

Father of rosy day, No more thy clouds of incense rise; But waking flow'rs At morning hours, Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.

God of the Delphic fame, No more thou listenest to hymns sublime; But they will leave On winds at eve, A solemn echo to the end of time.

MIDNIGHT.

Unfathomable Night! how dost thou sweep Over the flooded earth, and darkly hide The mighty city under thy full tide; Making a silent palace for old Sleep, Like his own temple under the hush'd deep, Where all the busy day he doth abide, And forth at the late dark, outspreadeth wide

His dusky wings, whence the cold waters sweep!

How peacefully the living millions lie!

Lull'd unto death beneath his poppy spells; There is no breath--no living stir--no cry No tread of foot--no song--no music-call-- Only the sound of melancholy bells-- The voice of Time--survivor of them all!

TO A SLEEPING CHILD.

I.

Oh, 'tis a touching thing, to make one weep,-- A tender infant with its curtain'd eye, Breathing as it would neither live nor die With that unchanging countenance of sleep!

As if its silent dream, serene and deep, Had lined its slumber with a still blue sky So that the passive cheeks unconscious lie With no more life than roses--just to keep The blushes warm, and the mild, odorous breath.

O blossom boy! so calm is thy repose.

So sweet a compromise of life and death, 'Tis pity those fair buds should e'er unclose For memory to stain their inward leaf, Tinging thy dreams with unacquainted grief.

TO A SLEEPING CHILD.

II.

Thine eyelids slept so beauteously, I deem'd No eyes could wake so beautiful as they: Thy rosy cheeks in such still slumbers lay, I loved their peacefulness, nor ever dream'd Of dimples:--for those parted lips so seem'd, I never thought a smile could sweetlier play, Nor that so graceful life could chase away Thy graceful death,--till those blue eyes upbeam'd.

Now slumber lies in dimpled eddies drown'd And roses bloom more rosily for joy, And odorous silence ripens into sound, And fingers move to sound.--All-beauteous boy!

How thou dost waken into smiles, and prove, If not more lovely thou art more like Love!

TO FANCY.

Most delicate Ariel! submissive thing, Won by the mind's high magic to its hest-- Invisible embassy, or secret guest,-- Weighing the light air on a lighter wing;-- Whether into the midnight moon, to bring Illuminate visions to the eye of rest,-- Or rich romances from the florid West,-- Or to the sea, for mystic whispering,-- Still by thy charm'd allegiance to the will, The fruitful wishes prosper in the brain, As by the fingering of fairy skill,-- Moonlight, and waters, and soft music's strain, Odors, and blooms, and _my_ Miranda's smile, Making this dull world an enchanted isle.

FAIR INES.

O Saw ye not fair Ines?

She's gone into the West, To dazzle when the sun is down, And rob the world of rest: She took our daylight with her, The smiles that we love best, With morning blushes on her cheek, And pearls upon her breast.

O turn again, fair Ines, Before the fall of night, For fear the moon should shine alone, And stars unrivall'd bright; And blessed will the lover be That walks beneath their light, And breathes the love against thy cheek I dare not even write!

Would I had been, fair Ines, That gallant cavalier, Who rode so gaily by thy side, And whisper'd thee so near!

Were there no bonny dames at home, Or no true lovers here, That he should cross the seas to win The dearest of the dear?

I saw thee, lovely Ines, Descend along the shore, With bands of noble gentlemen, And banners waved before; And gentle youth and maidens gay, And snowy plumes they wore; It would have been a beauteous dream, --If it had been no more!

Alas, alas, fair Ines, She went away with song, With Music waiting on her steps, And shoutings of the throng; But some were sad, and felt no mirth, But only Musics wrong, In sounds that sang Farewell, Farewell, To her you've loved so long.

Farewell, farewell, fair Ines, That vessel never bore So fair a lady on its deck, Nor danced so light before,-- Alas, for pleasure on the sea, And sorrow on the shore!

The smile that blest one lover's heart Has broken many more!