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And the world's waste have driven him far from For 'tis his nature to advance or die ; [those, He stands not still, but or decays, or grows
Into a boundless blessing, which may vie With the immortal lights in its eternity!
The moon is up, and yet it is not night :
A single star is at her side, and reigns
The odorous purple of a newborn rose, [it glows, Which streams upon her stream, and glass'd within
Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar,
(gray. The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone--and all is
Egeria! sweet creation of some heart
The nympholepsy of some fond despair ; Or, it might be, a beauty of the earth, Who found a more than common votary there Too much adoring ; whatsoe'er thy birth, [forth. Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied The mosses
of thy fountain still are sprinkled With thine Elysian water-drops ; the face Of thy cave-guarded spring, with years unwrinkled, Reflects the meek-eyed genius of the place, Whose green, wild margin now no more erase Art's works ; nor must the delicate waters sleep, Prison'd in marble, bubbling from the base
Of the cleft statue, with a gentle leap
Fantastically tangled; the green hills
The sweetness of the violet's deep blue eyes, Kiss'd by the breath of heaven, seems colour'd by its
skies. Here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover, Egeria! thy all-heavenly bosom beating For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover; The purple Midnight veil'd that mystic meeting With her most starry canopy, and seating Thyself by thine adorer, what befell? This cave was surely shaped out for the greeting
Of an enamour'd goddess, and the cell Haunted by holy love--the earliest oracle !
I see before me the gladiator lie :
And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow
The arena swims around him : he is gone,
wretch who won.
All this rush'd with his blood. Shall he expire,
And thou, too, of the snow-white plume!
On thy war-horse through the ranks
Like a stream which burst its banks,
There, where death's brief pang was quickest,
Of the eagle's burning crest;
Who could then her wing arrest,
Fell, or fled along the plain;
THERE's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away,
[dull decay; When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast,
(self be past. But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itThen the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness
[cess: Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt or ocean of exThe magnet of their course is gone, or only points in vain,
(stretch again. The shore to which their shiver'd sail shall never Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down;
[own; It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears,
[ice appears. And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth dis
tract the breast, Through midnight hours that yield no more their for.
mer hope of rest;
'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and
gray beneath. Oh could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a van
ish'd scene : As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be,
[flow to me. So, mid the wither'd waste of life, those tears would
Well! thou art happy, and I feel
That I should thus be happy too;
Warmly, as it was wont to do.
Some pangs to view his happier lot:
Would hate him if he loved thee not!
I thought my jealous heart would break;
I kiss'd it for its mother's sake.
Its father in its face to see;
And they were all to love and me.
While thou art bless'd I'll not repine ;
My heart would soon again be thine.
Had quench'd at length my boyish flame,
My heart in all, save hope, the same.