FROM POEMS ON THE DEAD. Child of a day, thou knowest not, And why the wish? the pure and blest Thou wilt not ever see her weep. ON A POET IN A WELSH CHURCHYARD. Kind souls! who strive what pious hand shall bring FROM INES DE CASTRO AT CINTRA. INES. Revere our holy Church; though some within Have erred, and some are slow to lead us right, Stopping to pry when staff and lamp should be In hand, and the way whiten underneath. PEDRO. Ines, the Church is now a charnel-house, Where all that is not rottenness is drowth. Thou hast but seen its gate hung round with flowers, And heard the music whose serenest waves Cover its gulfs and dally with its shoals, And hold the myriad insects in light play Above it, loth to leave its sunny sides. Look at this central edifice! come close! Men's bones and marrow its materials are, Men's groans inaugurated it, men's tears The sister, brother, lover (mark me, Ines!) INES. I tremble-but betrayers tremble more. Now cease, cease, Pedro! Cling I must to somewhatLeave me one guide, one rest! Let me love God! Alone—if it must be so! PEDRO. Him alone Mind; in him only place thy trust henceforth. SHELLS. But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue From Gebir. FROM COUNT JULIAN, JULIAN O cruelty-to them indeed the least! Away with him. MUZA. JULIAN. Slaves! not before I lift My voice to heaven and man: though enemies The trumpet is o'erpowered, and glory mute, REPENTANCE OF KING RODERIGO. There is, I hear, a poor half-ruined cell Still in its dark recess fanatic sin Till, such the natural stilness of the place, I know not, nor inquired-a scene of blood, Walked slowly, and behind him was a man From Count Julian MORNING. Now to Aurora borne by dappled steeds, The sacred gate of orient pearl and gold, Smitten with Lucifer's light silver wand, Expanded slow to strains of harmony; The waves beneath in purpling rows, like doves Glancing with wanton coyness tow'rd their queen, Heaved softly; thus the damsel's bosom heaves When from her sleeping lover's downy cheek, To which so warily her own she brings Each moment nearer, she perceives the warmth Of coming kisses fann'd by playful dreams. Ocean and earth and heaven was jubilee. For 'twas the morning pointed out by Fate When an immortal maid and mortal man Should share each other's nature knit in bliss. Bends down their heads, or gold shines in their way. IPPOLITO. Although I would have helpt you in distress, FERRANTE. Called thee tyrant? I? By heaven! in tyrant there is something great Rather by any monster of the wild Than choaked by weeds and quicksands, rather crusht By maddest rage than clay-cold apathy. Those who act well the tyrant, neither seek It sounds like power, like policy, like courage, FROM IPPOLITO DI ESTE. Now all the people follow the procession: Tires me; the columns shake, the cieling fleets, I could have fancied purer light descended. STANZAS. In Clementina's artless mien Lucilla asks, If that be all, Ah Have I not cull'd as sweet before yes, Lucilla! and their fall I still deplore. I now behold another scene, Where Pleasure beams with heaven's own light, More pure, more constant, more serene, And not less bright Faith, on whose breast the Loves repose, Whose chain of flowers no force can sever, And Modesty who, when she goes, Is |