LENORE. Ан, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown for ever! Let the bell toll ! river; a saintly soul floats on the Stygian weep now And, Guy De Vere, hast thou no tear ? or never more! See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore ! Come! let the burial rite be read be sung! the funeral song An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young. "Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride, "And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her that she died! "How shall the ritual, then, be read? the requiem - by yours, the "That did to death the innocence that died, and died Peccavimus; but rave not thus! and let a Sabbath song Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong! The sweet Lenore hath " that flew beside, gone before," with Hope, Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies, The life upon her yellow hair but not within her -the death upon eyes The life still there, upon her hair her eyes. "Avaunt! avaunt! from fiends below, the indignant ghost is riven "From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Heaven "From grief and groan, to a golden throne, beside the King of Heaven.' Let no bell toll then! - lest her soul, amid its hallowed mirth, Should catch the note as it doth float up from the damnéd Earth ! And I!-to-night my heart is light! No dirge will I upraise, But waft the angel on her flight with a Pæan of old days! THE VALLEY OF UNREST. Once it smiled a silent dell Where the people did not dwell; To keep watch above the flowers, Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven Over the violets there that lie In myriad types of the human eye- They weep: from off their delicate stems Perennial tears descend in gems. THE COLISEUM. TYPE of the antique Rome! Rich reliquary By buried centuries of pomp and power! Vastness! and Age! and Memories of Eld! O charms more potent than the rapt Chaldee Here, where a hero fell, a column falls ! All of the famed, and the colossal left "Not all - are they the Echoes answer me — "" not all! Prophetic sounds and loud, arise forever "From us, and from all Ruin, unto the wise, "As nelody from Memnon to the Sun. we rule We rule the hearts of mightiest men "With a despotic sway all giant minds. ‹‹ We are not impotent we pallid stones. "Not all our power is gone not all our fame"Not all the magic of our high renown "Not all the wonder that encircles us "Not all the mysteries that in us lie "Not all the memories that hang upon “And cling around about us as a garment, Clothing us in a robe of more than glory.” 66 |