AND THOU ART DEAD, AS YOUNG AND FAIR.
And thou art dead, as young and fair

As aught of mortal birth ;
And form so soft, and charms so rare,

Too soon return'd to Earth!
Though Earth received them in her bec!,
And o'er the spot the crowd may tread

In carelessness or mirth,
There is an eye which could not brook
A moment on that grave to look.
I will not ask where thou liest low,

Nor gaze upon the spot ;
There flowers or weeds at will may grow,

So I behold them not:
It is enough for me to prove
That what I loved, and long must love,

Like common earth can rot ;
To me there needs no stone to tell,
'Tis Nothing that I loved so well.
Yet did I love thee to the last

As. fervently as thou,
Who didst not change through all the past,

And canst not alter now.
The love where Death has set his seal,
Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,

Nor falsehood disavow :
And, what were worse, thou canst not see
Or wrong, or change, or fault in me.
The better days of life were ours;

The worst can be but mine :
The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers,

Shall never more be thine.
The silence of that dreamless sleep
I envy now too much to weep;

Nor need I to repine,
That all those charms have pass’d away ;

I might have watch'd through long decay. VOL. IV.

S

The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd

Must fall the earliest prey ;
Though by no hand untimely snatch'd,

The leaves must drop away :
And yet it were a greater grief
To watch it withering, leaf by leaf,

Than see it pluck'd to-day ;
Since earthly eye but ill can bear
To trace the change to foul from fair.

I know not if I could have borne

To see thy beauties fade;
The night that follow'd such a morn

Had worn a deeper shade :
Thy day without a cloud hath pass’de
And thou wert lovely to the last ;

Extinguish'd, not decay'd ;
As stars that shoot along the sky
Shine brightest as they fall from high.

As once I wept, if I could weep,

My tears might well be shed,
To think I was not near to keep

One vigil o'er thy bed ;
To gaze, how fondly ! on thy face,
To fold thee in a faint embrace,

Uphold thy drooping head;
And show that love, however vain,
Nor thou nor I can feel again.

Yet how much less it were to gain,

Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things that still remain,

Than thus remember thee !
The all of thine that cannot die
Through dark and dread Eternity

Returns again to me,
And more thy buried love endears
Than aught, except its living years.

February, 1812.

Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle

Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime ? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,

Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime ! Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine ; Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd.with perfume, Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her bloom ; Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute; Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, In colour though varied, in beauty may vie, And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye ; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine ? 'Tis the clime of the East ; 'tis the land of the Sun, Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done? Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.

[From The Hebrew Melodies.]

1.

SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY.

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies ;
And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes :
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the morę, one ray the less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face ; Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

II.

OH! SNATCH'D AWAY IN BEAUTY'S BLOOM.

Oh! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;

But on thy turf shall roses rear

Their leaves, the earliest of the year ; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom :

And oft by yon blue gushing stream

Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,
And feed deep thought with many a dream,

And lingering pause and lightly tread ;
Fond wretch! as if her step disturb’d the dead !

Away! we know that tears are vain,

That death nor heeds nor hears distress :
Will this unteach us to complain ?

Or make one mourner weep the less ?
And thou—who tell’st me to forget,
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.

FROM 'PARISINA.'

It is the hour when from the boughs

The nightingale's high note is heard ; It is the hour when lovers' vows

Seem sweet in every whisper'd word ; And gentle winds, and waters near, Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly wet, And in the sky the stars are met, And on the wave is deeper blue, And on the leaf a browner hue, And in the heaven that clear obscure, So softly dark, and darkly pure, Which follows the decline of day, As twilight melts beneath the moon away.

STANZAS FOR MUSIC.

There be none of Beauty's daughters

With a magic like thee ;
And like music on the waters

Is thy sweet voice to me :
When, as if its sound were causing
The charmed ocean's pausing,
The waves lie still and gleaming,
And the lulld winds seem dreaming:

And the midnight moon is weaving

Her bright chain o'er the deep ;
Whose breast is gently heaving,

As an infant's asleep:
So the spirit bows before thee,
To listen and adore thee;
With a full but soft emotion,
Like the swell of Summer's ocean.