It trembles, but it never fades away;

Go to the [

You, being changed, will find it then as now.
The chasm in which the sun has sunk is shut

By darkest barriers of enormous cloud,
Like mountain over mountain huddled-but
Growing and moving upwards in a crowd,
And over it a space of watery blue,
Which the keen evening star is shining through.

I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,
Bare winter suddenly was changed to spring,
And gentle odours led my steps astray,

Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring
Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay

Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream. There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,

Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth,

The constellated flower that never sets;

Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears, When the low wind its playmate's voice it hears. And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,

Green cow-bind and the moonlight-coloured May, And cherry blossoms, and white-cups, whose wine Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day; And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,

With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; And flowers azure, black and streaked with gold, Fairer than any wakened eyes behold,

And nearer to the river's trembling edge

[white, There grew broad flag flowers, purple, prankt with And starry river buds among the sedge,

And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge

With moonlight beams of their own watery light, And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.

Methought that of these visionary flowers

I made a nosegay, bound in such a way
That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
Were mingled or opposed, the like array
Keep these imprisoned children of the Hours
Within my hand,-and then, elate and gay,
I hastened to the spot whence I had come,
That I might there present it!-Oh! to whom?

-00

THE TWO SPIRITS

AN ALLEGORY.

1st Spi. O Thou, who plumed with strong desire Wouldst float above the earth, beware!

A shadow tracks thy flight of fire

Night is coming!

Bright are the regions of the air,
And among the winds and beams
It were delight to wander there-
Night is coming!

2nd Spi. The deathless stars are bright above;
If I would cross the shade of night,
Within my heart is the lamp of love,

And that is day!

And the moon will smile with gentle light
On my golden plumes where'er they move;

The meteors will linger round my flight,
And make night day.

1st Spi. But if the whirlwinds of darkness waken
Hail, and lightning, and stormy rain;
See the bounds of the air are shaken-
Night is coming!

The red swift clouds of the hurricane
Yon declining sun have overtaken,
The clash of the hail sweeps over the plain-
Night is coming.

2nd Spi. I see the light, and I hear the sound;
I'll sail on the flood of the tempest dark
With the calm within and the light around
Which makes night day:
And thou, when the gloom is deep and stark,
Look from thy dull earth, slumber-bound,
My moon-like flight thou then may'st mark
On high, far away.

Some say, there is a precipice

Where one vast pine is frozen to ruin O'er piles of snow and chasms of ice

Mid Alpine mountains:

And that the languid storm pursuing
That winged shape for ever flies
Round those hoar branches, aye renewing
Its aery fountains.

Some say, when nights are dry and clear,
And the death dews sleep on the morass,
Sweet whispers are heard by the traveller
Which makes night day:
And a silver shape like his early love doth pass
Upborne by her wild and glittering hair,
And when he awakes on the fragrant grass,
He finds night day.

LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR.
I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright:
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet

Has led me-who knows how?
To thy chamber window, sweet!

The wandering airs they faint
On the dark and silent stream--
The champak odours fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart,
As I must on thine,
Beloved as thou art!

They were two cousins, almost like to twins,
Except that from the catalogue of sins

Nature had razed their love-which could not be

But by dissevering their nativity.

And so they grew together, like two flowers

Upon one stem, which the same beams and showers Lull or awaken in their purple prime,

Which the same hand will gather-the same clime
Shake with decay. This fair day smiles to see
All those who love,-and who ever loved like thee,
Fiordispina? Scarcely Cosimo,

Within whose bosom and whose brain now glow
The ardours of a vision which obscure
The very idol of its portraiture!

He faints, dissolved into a sense of love:
But thou art as a planet sphered above,
But thou art Love itself-ruling the motion
Of his subjected spirit-such emotion
Must end in sin and sorrow, if sweet May
Had not brought forth this morn--your wedding day

-00-

A BRIDAL SONG.

The golden gates of sleep unhar

Where strength and beauty met together, Kindle their image like a star

In a sea of glassy weather.

Night, with all thy stars look down,-
Darkness, weep thy holiest dew,-
Never smiled the inconstant moon
On a pair so true.

et eyes not see their own delight;-
Haste, swift Hour, and thy flight
Oft renew.

Fairies, sprites, and angels, keep her.
Holy stars, permit no wrong!

And return to wake the sleeper,
Dawn,-ere it be long.

joy. O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun!

Come along!