XXXII.

ECLIPSE.

So pure, so clear, amid the vast blue lake,
Sole regent of the many-scattered isles,
Making of myriad million, billion miles
One beauty, floats she brilliantly awake,
Unconscious of the doom that must o'ertake
Her maidenhood before the night goes by,
And make a lurid blot upon the sky,
And all her cheer transform to dim opaque.
But happy art thou, Moon; no fault of thine,
No just displeasure of thy lord, the Sun,

Clothes thee in weed of penance, murk and dun ;
For thine own self thou still art free to shine.

That earth which moves between mankind and thee, Inflicts no stain upon thy purity.

XXXIII.

TO AN AGED BEAUTY.

ONCE thou wert young, 'twas very long ago,
Yet some there are to whom thy fixt idea,
Even now, is fresh as sea-born Cytherea.
The waves of time, that ever backward flow,
Behind them leave the quiet tints that glow
On each successive billow. Months, nor years,
Nor maddest mirth, nor dim heart-wasting tears
Attaint the truths that true minds truly know.
Once thou wert young, and still art young to me,
Though fifty summers faded since we met;
Thy timid glance I cannot cease to see,
Thy bird-like voice to me is piping yet.

If Time turn back to say that thou art old,
I'll swear he lies, and will thy youth uphold.

XXXIV.

I SAW thee in the beauty of thy spring,

And then I thought how blest the man shall be

That shall persuade thy maiden modesty

To hearken to his fond soliciting.

Thou wert so fair, so exquisite a thing,

I thought the very dust on which thy feet
Had left their mark exhaled a scent more sweet
Than honey-dew dropt from an angel's wing.

I see thee now a matron and a mother,

And I, alas! am old before my day.

Both to myself and thee I owe another—

A holier passion, a devouter lay.

Each spark of earthly fire I now must smother,

And wish for nought for which I dare not pray.

XXXV.

TO MISS MARTHA H

MARTHA, thy maiden foot is still so light,
It leaves no legible trace on virgin snows,
And yet I ween that busily it goes

In duty's path from happy morn to night.
Thy dimpled cheek is gay, and softly bright
As the fixt beauty of the mossy rose;
Yet will it change its hue for other's woes,
And native red contend with piteous white.
Thou bear'st a name by Jesus known and loved,
And Jesus gently did the maid reprove

For too much haste to show her eager love.
But blest is she that may be so reproved.
Be Martha still in deed and good endeavour,
In faith like Mary, at His feet for ever.

XXXVI.

SECOND NUPTIALS.

THERE is no jealousy in realms above:
The spirit purified from earthly stain,
And knowing that its earthly loss was gain,
Transfers its property in earthly love
(Tho' love it was she does not yet reprove)
To her by Heaven appointed to sustain
The honour'd matron's part; to bear the pain,
The joy, the duty, all things that behove

A Christian wedded. She that dwells on high
May be a guardian angel to the wife
That her good husband chooses to supply
Her place, vacated in the noon of life;
With holy gladness may support the bride
Through happy cares to her by death denied.