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As if the very lips and eyes
’T was that friends, the beloved of my Predestined to have all our sighs,
bosom, were near, And never be forgot again,
Who made every dear scene of enchantSparkled and spoke before us then!
ment more dear,
And who felt how the best charms of So came thy every glance and tone,
nature improve, When first on me they breathed and When we see them reflected from looks shone;
that we love. New as if brought from other spheres, Yet welcome as if loved for years. Sweet Vale of Avoca ! how calm could
I love best;
Where the storms that we feel in this At the mid hour of night, when stars And our hearts, like thy waters, be min.
cold world should cease, are weeping, I fly To the lone vale we loved, when life
gled in peace. shone warm in thine eye; And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air,
0 THOU WHO DRY'ST THE MOURNTo revisit past scenes of delight, thou
ER'S TEAR. wilt come to me there, And tell me our love is remembered even O Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear! in the sky!
How dark this world would be,
If, when deceived and wounded here, Then I sing the wild song 't was
We could not fly to thee. such pleasure to hear,
The friends who in our sunshine live, When our voices, commingling, breathed
When winter comes, are flown; like one on the ear;
And he who has but tears to give And, as Echo far off through the vale Must weep those tears alone. my sad orison rolls,
But thou wilt heal that broken heart I think, ( my love ! 't is thy voice, Which, like the plants that throw from the Kingdom of Souls,
Their fragrance from the wounded part, Faintly answering still the notes that
Breathes sweetness out of woe. once were so dear.
When joy no longer soothes or cheers,
And e'en the hope that threw
A inoment's sparkle o'er our tears
Is dimmed and vanished too, There is not in this wide world a valley 0, who would bear life's stormy doom,
Did not thy wing of love SO sweet As that vale, in whose bosom the bright come, brightly wasting through the gloom waters meet;
Our peace-branch from above ?
Then sorrow, touched by thee, grows 0, the last ray of feeling and life must
bright Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade
With more than rapture's ray; from my heart !
As darkness shows us worlds of light
We never saw by day! Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er
the scene Her purest of crystal and brightest of
THOU ART, O GOD! green; ’T was not the soft magic of streamlet or Thou art, O God! the life and light hill,
Of all this wondrous world we see; 0, no! it was something more exquisite Its glow by day, its smile by night, still.
Are but reflections caught from thee.
GEORGE GORDON (LORD BYRON).
Where'er we turn, thy glories shine, THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. And all things fair and bright are thine. The Assyrian came down like the wolf
on the fold, When day, with farewell beam, delays
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple Among the opening clouds of even,
and gold; And we can almost think we gaze
And the sheen of their spears was like Through golden vistas into heaven,
stars on the sea, Those hues that make the sun's decline
When the blue wave rolls nightly on So soft, so radiant, Lord! are thine,
deep Galilee. When night, with wings of starry gloom, Like the leaves of the forest when sum. O'ershadows all the earth and skies,
mer is green, Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose That host with their banners at sunset
plume Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes,
Like the leaves of the forest when auThat sacred gloom, those tires divine,
tumn hath blown, So grand, so countless, Lord! are thine.
That host on the morrow lay withered
and strown. When youthful spring around us breathes,
Thy spirit warms her fragrant sigh ; And every flower the summer wreathes For the Angel of Death spread his wings Is born beneath that kindling eye.
on the blast, Where'er we turn, thy glories shine,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he And all things fair and bright are Thine. passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly
and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and
forever grew still !
And there lay the steed with his nostrils
But through them there rolled not the (1788 – 1824 )
breath of his pride :
And the foam of his gasping lay white SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY.
on the turf, She walks in beauty, like the night
And cold as the spray of the rock-beatOf cloudless climes and starry skies,
ing surf. And all that is best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes, And there lay the rider distorted and Thus mellowed to that tender light
pale, Which Heaven to gaudy day denies. With the dew on his brow and the rust
on his mail; One shade the more, one ray the less, And the tents were all silent, the ban.
Had half impaired the nameless grace ners alone, Which waves in every raven tress, The lances unlifted, the trumpet un. Or softly lightens o'er her face,
blown. Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling. place.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in
their wail, And on that cheek and o'er that brow, And the idols are broke in the temple of So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
Baal ; The smiles that win, the tints that glow, And the might of the Gentile, unsinote But tell of days in goodness spent,
by the sword, A mind at peace with all below, Hath melted like snow in the glance of A heart whose love is innocent!
the Lord !
THE LAKE OF GEVEVA.
Ona throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds.
With a diadem of snow. CLEAR, placid Leman! thy contrasted
Around his waist are forests braced, lake,
The avalanche in his hand; With the wild world I dwelt in, is a
But ere it fall, that thundering ball thing
Must pause for my conimand. Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake
The glacier's cold and restless mass Earth's troubled waters for a purer Moves onward day by day; spring
But I am he who bids it pass,
I am the spirit of the place,
Could make the mountain bow Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft mur
And quiver to his caverned bass, muring
And what with me wouldst Thou: Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice
reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
THE IMMORTAL MIND. It is the hush of night, and all between When coldness wraps this suffering clay, Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, Ah, whither strays the immortal mine? yet clear,
It cannot die, it cannot stay, Mellowed and mingling, yet distinctly But leaves its darkened dust behind. seen,
Then, unembodied, doth it trace Save darkened Jura, whose capt heights By steps each planet's heavenly way? appear
Or till at once the realms of space,
Eternal, boundless, undecayed,
A thought unseen, but seeing all,
All, all in carth or skies displayed, Drops the light drip of the suspended
Shall it survey, shall it recall: oar,
Each fainter trace that memory holds Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night
So darkly of departed years, carol more :
In one broad glance the soul beholds, He is an evening reveller, who makes
And all that was at once appears.
Its eyes shall roll through chaos back; Starts into voice a moment, then is And where the farthest heaven had birth, still.
The spirit trace its rising track. There seems a floating whisper on the And where the future mars or makes, hill,
Its glance dilate o'er all to be, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews While sun is quenched or system breaks, All silently their tears of love instil, Fixed in its own eternity. Weeping themselves away, till they
It lives all passionless and pure :
Its years as moments shall endure.
Away, away, without a wing,
O'er all, through all, its thoughts shall Mont Blanc is the monarch of moun.
A nameless and eternal thing, They crowned him long ago
Forgetting what it was to die.