When friends are met, and goblets crown'd, And smiles are near that once enchanted, Unreach'd by all that sunshine round, My soul, like some dark spot, is haunted By thee, thee, only thee. Whatever in fame's high path could waken My spirit once, is now forsaken For thee, thee, only thee. Like shores, by which some headlong bark I have not a joy but of thy bringing, Like spells that naught on earth can break, THOSE EVENING BELLS. THOSE evening bells! those evening bells! Those joyous hours are past away! OFT, IN THE STILLY NIGHT. OFT, in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Of other days around me; The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus, in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Of other days around me. When I remember all The friends, so link'd together, Like leaves in wintry weather, Whose garland's dead, And all but he departed! Thus, in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. WEEP NOT FOR THOSE. WEEP not for those whom the veil of the tomb, Death chill'd the fair fountain ere sorrow had stain'd it, "Twas frozen in all the pure light of its course, And but sleeps till the sunshine of heaven has unchain'd it, To water that Eden where first was its source ! Weep not for those whom the veil of the tomb, In life's happy morning, hath hid from our eyes, Ere sin threw a blight o'er the spirit's young bloom, Or earth had profaned what was born for the skies. Mourn not for her, the young Bride of the Vale, Our gayest and loveliest, lost to us now, Ere life's early lustre had time to grow pale, And the garland of love was yet fresh on her brow! Oh! then was her moment, dear spirit, for flying From this gloomy world, while its gloom was unknown; And the wild hymns she warbled so sweetly, in dying, Were echoed in Heaven by lips like her own! Weep not for her; in her springtime she flew To that land where the wings of the soul are unfurl'd, And now, like a star beyond evening's cold dew, Looks radiantly down on the tears of this world. THIS WORLD IS ALL A FLEETING SHOW. THIS World is all a fleeting show, The smiles of Joy, the tears of Wo, There's nothing true but Heaven! And false the light on Glory's plume, And Love, and Hope, and beauty's Bloom By the haunted hours before! The fields were cover'd over Summer shed its shining store, She pluck'd them and caress'd them; They had never seem'd so sweet before, The flower of fairy lore. How the heart of childhood dances It has its own romances, And a wide, wide world have they! A world where phantasie is king, Made all of eager dreaming, When once grown up and tall; Do such pleasant fancies spring She seems like an ideal love, And yet loved with a real love, As if she were our own; its arms at dear earth flattering friends TUNTRY. kness I found thee; ung o'er thee long, 1 harp! I unbound light, freedom, and ht note of gladness y loveliest thrill; e deep sigh of sad steal from thee still. well to thy numbers, Is the last we shall Fame on thy slum less unworthy than er, or lover, thy glory alone; needlessly over, waked was thy own. |