"The spell is done. How feel you now?" "Better-Quite well," replied The sleeper."What would do THE MAGNETIC LADY TO HER You good when suffering and awake? PATIENT I "SLEEP, sleep on! forget thy pain; My hand is on thy brow, My spirit on thy brain; My pity on thy heart, poor friend; And from my fingers flow Seal thee from thine hour of woe; And brood on thee, but may not blend With thine. II "Sleep, sleep on! I love thee not; Might have been lost like thee; What cure your head and side ?—" "What would cure, that would kill me, The heart's echoes render No song but sad dirges, III When hearts have once mingled The weak one is singled The frailty of all things here, Why choose you the frailest Making the wintry world appear Away, away, from men and towns, Where the soul need not repress I leave this notice on my door "I am gone into the fields To take what this sweet hour yields;— For your cradle, your home, and your Reflection, you may come to-morrow, bier? IV Its passions will rock thee As the storms rock the ravens on high: Bright reason will mock thee, Like the sun from a wintry sky. From thy nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home Leave thee naked to laughter, When leaves fall and cold winds come. TO JANE: THE INVITATION BEST and brightest, come away! And like a prophetess of May Strewed flowers upon the barren way, Sit by the fireside with Sorrow.— Death will listen to your stave. With smiles, nor follow where I go; Radiant Sister of the Day, Billows murmur at our feet, That even the busy woodpecker The inviolable quietness; The breath of peace we drew With its soft motion made not less The calm that round us grew. TO JANE: THE RECOLLECTION There seemed from the remotest seat Of the white mountain waste, To the soft flower beneath our feet, A magic circle traced,—— A spirit interfused around, Our mortal nature's strife;- The magic circle there, Was one fair form that filled with love The lifeless atmosphere. V We paused beside the pools that lie Each seemed as 'twere a little sky A firmament of purple light, Which in the dark earth lay, In which the lovely forests grew More perfect both in shape and hue There lay the glade and neighbouring lawn, And through the dark green wood The white sun twinkling like the dawn Out of a speckled cloud. Sweet views which in our world above And all was interfused beneath An atmosphere without a breath, Like one beloved the scene had lent Its every leaf and lineament With more than truth exprest; Until an envious wind crept by, Like an unwelcome thought, Which from the mind's too faithful eye Blots one dear image out. Though thou art ever fair and kind, The forests ever green, CANCELLED PASSAGE WERE not the crocuses that grew Under that ilex-tree As beautiful in scent and hue As ever fed the bee? WITH A GUITAR, TO JANE ARIEL to Miranda.-Take This slave of Music, for the sake Of him who is the slave of thee, And teach it all the harmony In which thou canst, and only thou, Make the delighted spirit glow, Till joy denies itself again, And, too intense, is turned to pain; For by permission and command Of thine own Prince Ferdinand, Poor Ariel sends this silent token Of more than ever can be spoken; Your guardian spirit, Ariel, who, From life to life, must still pursue Your happiness;-for thus alone Can Ariel ever find his own. From Prospero's enchanted cell, As the mighty verses tell, To the throne of Naples, he Lit you o'er the trackless sea, Flitting on, your prow before, Like a living meteor. When you die, the silent Moon, In her interlunar swoon, Is not sadder in her cell Than deserted Ariel. When you live again on earth, Like an unseen star of birth, Ariel guides you o'er the sea Of life from your nativity. Many changes have been run, Since Ferdinand and you begun Your course of love, and Ariel still Now, in humbler, happier lot, The artist who this idol wrought, The artist wrought this loved Guitar, All this it knows, but will not tell TO JANE: "THE KEEN STARS I THE keen stars were twinkling, And the fair moon was rising among them, Dear Jane! The guitar was tinkling, A DIRGE ROUGH wind, that moanest loud LINES WRITTEN IN THE BAY SHE left me at the silent time But the notes were not sweet till you In the chambers of the West. sung them Again. As the moon's soft splendour O'er the faint cold starlight of heaven Is thrown, So your voice most tender She left me, and I stayed alone Like notes which die when born, but still To the strings without soul had then The soft vibration of her touch, As if her gentle hand, even now, Lightly trembled on my brow; And thus, although she absent were, That even Fancy dares to claim: Though the moon sleep a full hour later, Her presence had made weak and tame To-night; No leaf will be shaken Whilst the dews of your melody scatter Delight. IV Though the sound overpowers, Sing again, with your dear voice revealing A tone Of some world far from ours, Where music and moonlight and feeling Are one. All passions, and I lived alone In my faint heart. I dare not speak I sat and saw the vessels glide |