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Isabel, a Dramatic Poem.
Agnes. Preserve me, Saints ! is that a living form
That waves her long and naked arms in air –
Although she seems most wretched-
Thus punished for its guilt-
My Lord, My Lord,
Again !-- Again !-No more-
1 come-I come[He flings himself from the window on the terrace-Agnes screams, and, endeavouring to save him, sinks to the ground. Scene changes.]
Scene 2d. The ruins of an ancient Abbey.--Moonlight.–At one end an inhabited part of the building, the rest presents the remains of an old Monastery. The Hymn of the Monks within :
'Tis midnight, and the stars are waking
'Tis midnight, and the sinner sleeps; The light of Heaven is darkly breaking,
Where lonely sorrow wakes and weeps.
Hath tolled to mark the hour of prayer,
Hath called them to the vesper there.
One gen'ral thought pervades the whole,
Had spread its flame from soul to soul. [Isabel rushes in—she looks as if pursued by some one whom she is anxious to avoid.) Isabel. Hide me, ye caverns of the earth-roll, roll,
Great mountains from your base and bury me.
Isabel, a Dramatic Poem.
A pause-Lindenberg appears, he looks earnestly round--at length he discovers Isabel Lin. Ha !-near me-Sorceress art thou hither come
To blight my happiness -has the grave sawned,
And broke iis peace to give thee back again?
The dying curse is hovering round thee now-
and gone-look, look on mc-
Off, monster-off-delirium is in my brain
What ho!-within-withinPerhaps these Monks may offer her some aidHe knocks at the convent gate-lights appear at the windows, and in a few moments some Monks enter from a low postern door. Lindenberg points to Isabel who lies on the earth at his feet—they raise her and support her in their arms, and Lindenberg continues to gaze on her without speaking—as they carry her into the monastery the scene closes.
Thou hast departed,- like a beauteous cloud
Fainting away in twilight,-i hou art flown
Like the last note of music, when its lone
The vision of my loneliness,-my love !
Thou wert the soothing spirit, which did move
And earth grew dim, and yon blue world of skies
Had nought to me, so beauteous as thine eyes,
But now I see thee buman,-faithless-wed !--
Soonet to Spring --Beaty.
SONNET TO SPRING.
I see thee-feel thee-life-renewing Spring !
Thou pourest through my veins a glowing flood,
"Till, doubly rapid, rushes my warm blood.
And now on earth thy magic is begun ;
A young creation springs, and the sweet sun
Pour forth their spirit in harmonious words,
Ah, Spring ! there is a season of the heart
O Beauty! words are poor and idle all,
Unskilled are they thy myst'ries to proclaim ;
Hath wak'd my harp-unused to glowing theme !
Hail minister of bliss ! whose balm can heal
The wounded mind-can soothe affliction strong ;
The poison'd arrow that hath rankled long
And, kneeling where thy majesty doth shine,
for lo ! its empire 's thine !
No treasons, Beauty, mar thy boundless reign.
Monarchs and slaves one fealty doth bind
Save that which burns for ihee through all mankind ;
Where Nature decks thee for herself alone:
With Summer's fairest fruits around thy throne ;
Mantled in brightest green or virgin snow,
Our orisons are thine-for thee they flow !
Without thee life were vain-Elysium cold ;
And Love-Ah! Love could never kindled be, Save by thy beams—and joy could ne'er unfold
His wanton wing, unless 'twas nerved by thee !
Union of ev'ry tie that most endears,
Emblem of Peace-bright rainbow mid our lears!
Of doubtful cadence--for to thee 'tis given From sparkling eyes to pour on all around
The language of the Stars—that speaks of Heaven! The Heathen decks his paradise with thee,
And blooming Houries light his blissful dream ; Thy form renew'd in Angel's guise we see,
To bless our Eden with a holier name!
O Time! thou stand'st alone-cold, and unmoved,
Thy frozen heart regards not Beauty's sheen; Here is sad proof that ihou hast never loved ;
This ruined Statue's pity-moving mein ; This sad memorial prostrate to thy rage,
Whose lips seem almost opening to complain, Whose Beauty's wreck is still a fragrant page,
Bright with the glories of thy earlier reign ! Yes ; pausing here thy trophied tale we trace,
And fancy, sorrowing, through a thousand years, Mourns o'er thy favour'd Rome's extinguished race,
Or drops for long-remember'd Greece her tears !
But let me gaze once more upon the sky;
The things of art are fading fast away, And Man, the puny moralist, must die,
But here is beauty that can ne'er decay ! Coeval with Eternity-that sate
Fast by the font of light, and quaffed its ray, Ere the world bounded from the hand of Fate,
Or Man was yet to mar the coming day!
1. In the days of my childhood, unfetter'd and free
From the hopes and the cares of less innocent hours, I have roam'd amid scenes that were lovely to me,
For Liberty breathed her swet light on the flowers ;
There was sunshine above me the sunshine of skies
Which the darkness of earth never turned into tears, Yet oh ! even that was less bright than the eyes
That sparkled around me-like stars in the spheres !
With the friends that I loved--and the hearts I ador'd ;
; And falsehood must dim the pure lustre of truth,
And feeling and passion no longer must be,
And the hearts that once made them so precious to me.
III. From the smile of contempt-and the frown of disdain,
Which the world ever flings on the friendless and lone, I have turn'd with a spirit no ills could restrain,
To those days of my childhood-now faded and gone : And as darkly and sad on their fleetness I dwelt,
And thought of the friends that could never return, On the tomb of my hopes and enjoyments I knelt,
And sweet were the tears that I pour'd on each urn !
Of resentment and wrong,
On thy innocence hung :-
In silence and lears,-
There was truth in that eye,
And ev'n malice defy.
In hatred and pride-
My beautiful bride!