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TO HARRIET Whose is the love that, gleaming through the world, Harriet! on thine :-thou wert my purer mind; Wards off the poisonous arrow of its scorn? Thou wert the inspiration of my song ; Whose is the warm and partial praise,
Thine are these early wilding flowers, Virtue's most sweet reward ?
Though garlanded by me.
Beneath whose looks did my reviving soul
Then press into thy breast this pledge of love,
Each flow'ret gathered in my heart [roll,
How wonderful is Death,
Death and his brother Sleep !
With lips of lurid blue ;
The other, rosy as the morn
It blushes o'er the world :
Hath then the gloomy Power
Seized on her sinless soul ?
Must then that peerless form Which love and admiration cannot view
Without a beating heart, those azure veins Which steal like streams along a field of snow, That lovely outline, which is fair
As breathing marble, perish ?
Must putrefaction's breath
But loathsomeness and ruin?
Spare nothing but a gloomy theme, On which the lightest heart might moralize?
Or is it only a sweet slumber
Stealing o'er sensation,
Chaseth into darkness?
Will Ianthe wake again, And give that faithful bosom joy Whose sleepless spirit waits to catch Light, life, and rapture, from her smile ?
Yes ! she will wake again, Although her glowing limbs are motionless,
And silent those sweet lips,
Once breathing eloquence That might have soothed a tiger's rage, Or thawed the cold heart of a conqueror.
Her dewy eyes are closed,
The baby Sleep is pillowed :
The bosom's stainless pride,
Around a marble column.
That circle thy domain !
Let even the restless gossamer
Soul of Ianthe! thou,
Awake! arise !
Each stain of earthliness
Immortal amid ruin.
The genii of the breezes sweep :
Those lines of rainbow light
Are like the moonbeams when they fall Through some cathedral window, but the teints
Are such as may not find
Comparison on earth.
These the Queen of Spells drew in,
She spread a charm around the spot,
Upon the slumbering maid.
Astonishes, enraptures, elevates-
The wond'rous and the beautiful,
Hath ever yet beheld,
The broad and yellow moon
Moved not the moonlight's line :
'Twas not an earthly pageant ;
Passing all human glory,
That filled the lonely dwelling.
That catches but the palest tinge of even,
When melting into eastern twilight's shadow, Were scarce so thin, so slight ; but the fair star That gems the glittering coronet of morn,
Sheds not a light so mild, so powerful,
Yet with an undulating motion,
From her celestial car
And thrice she waved her wand
Her thin and misty form
As thus she spoke, were such
Upon the couch the body lay,
Wrapt in the depth of slumber :
Yet animal life was there,
Its natural functions ; 'twas a sight
The self-same lineaments, the same
Marks of identity were there ;
Wantons in endless being.
Rots, perishes and passes.
Spirit! who hast dived so deep ;
Thou the fearless, thou the mild, Accept the boon thy worth hath earned,
Ascend the car with me.
Do I dream? Is this new feeling
If indeed I am a soul,
Speak again to me.
I am the Fairy MAB: to me 'tis given
Stars ! your balmiest influence shed ! Elements ! your wrath suspend ! Sleep, Ocean, in the rocky bounds