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Wraps a heart of human mould
• In death's eternal trance.'

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• That shapeless phantom sinking flow • Deep down the vast abyss below, • Darts, thro' the mists that shroud his frame, • A horror, nature hates to name i'• Mortal, could thine eyes behold "All those sullen mists enfold, • Thy sinews at the sight accurst • Would wither, and thy heart-strings burst; • Death would grasp with icy hand · And drag thee to our grizzly band

Away! the sable pall I spread, • And give to rest th' unquiet dead• Hastel ere its horrid shroud enclose

Thy form, benumb’d with wild affright, • And plunge thee far thro' wastes of night, • In yon black gulph's abhorr'd repose l’

As starting at each step I fly,
Why backward turns my frantic eye,

That closing portal past -
Two sullen shades half-seen advance

On me, a blasting look they cast,
And fix my view with dang’rous spells,

Where burning phrenzy dwells !
Again their vengeful look-and now a speechless

*

ODE XX.

NETLEY ABBEY.

BY W. SOTHEBY, ESQ.

Sort on the wave the oars at distance sound,

The night breeze sighing through the leafy spray, With gentle whisper murmurs all around,

Breathes on the placid sea, and dies away.
As sleeps the Moon upon her cloudless height,
And the swoln spring-tide heaves beneath the light,

Slow lingering on the solitary shore
Along the dewy path my steps I bend,

Lonely to yon forsaken fane descend,
To muse on youth's wild dreams amid the ruin's hoar.

Within the shelter'd centre of the aisle,

Beneath the ash, whose growth romantic spreads Its foliage trembling o'er the funeral pile,

And all around a deeper darkness sheds ;
While through yon arch, where the thick ivy twines,
Bright on the silver'd tow'r the moon-beam shines,

And the grey cloyster's roofless length illumes,
Upon the mossy stone I lie reclin'd,
And to a visionary world resign’d,

Call the pale spectres forth from the forgotten tombs. Spirits! the desolated wreck that haunt,

Who frequent by the village maiden seen,
When sudden shouts at eve the wanderer daunt,

And shapeless shadows sweep along the green;
And ye, in midnight horrors heard to yell
Round the destroyer of the holy cell,

With interdictions dread of boding sound;
Who, when he prowld the rifled walls among,
Prone on his brow the massy fragment flung ;-
Come from your viewless caves, and tread this hal-

low'd ground !

How oft, when homeward forc'd, at day's dim close,

In youth, as bending back I mournful stood Fix'd on the fav'rite spot, where first arose

The pointed ruin peeping o'er the wood; Methought I heard upon the passing wind Melodious sounds in solemn chorus join'd,

Echoing the chaunted vesper's peaceful note, Oft through the veil of night's descending cloud, Saw gleaming far the visionary croud

Down the deep vaulted aisle in long procession float.

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But now; no more the gleaming forms appear,

Within their graves at rest the fathers sleep;
And not a sound comes to the wistful ear,

Save the low murmur of the tranquil deep:
Or from the grass that in luxuriant pride
Waves o'er yon eastern window's sculptur'd side,

The dew-drops bursting on the fretted stone: While faintly from the distant coppice heard, The music of the melancholy bird

Trills to the silent heav'n a sweetly-plaintive moan.

Farewell, delightful dreams, that charm'd my youth !

Farewell th' aërial note, the shadowy trail ! Now while this shrine inspires sublimer truth,

While cloyster'd echo breathes a solemn strain, In the deep stillness of the midnight hour, Wisdom shall curb wild fancy's magic pow'r,

And as with life's gay dawn th’illusions cease, Though from the heart steal forth a sigh profound; Here Resignation o'er its secret wound Shall pour

the lenient balm that soothes the soul to peace.

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