He sat upright; and ere the dream "O God, forgive me! (he exclaimed) Then Ellen shrieked, and forthwith burst Into ungentle laughter; And Mary shivered, where she sat, And never she smiled after. Carmen reliquum in futurum tempus relegatum. Tomorrow! and To-morrow and To-morrow! IV. ODES AND MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. DEJECTION. AN ODE. "Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon, With the old Moon in her arms; And I fear, I fear, my Master dear! We shall have a deadly storm." ELL! if the Bard was weather-wise, who made The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence, This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence Unroused by winds, that ply a busier trade Than those which mould yon clouds in lazy flakes, Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and rakes Upon the strings of this Eolian lute, Which better far were mute. For lo! the New-moon winter bright! (With swimming phantom light o'erspread But rimmed and circled by a silver thread) I see the old Moon in her lap, foretelling The coming on of rain and squally blast. And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast! Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed, And sent my soul abroad, Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give, Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live! II. A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear, O Lady! in this wan and heartless mood, In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue; I see, not feel how beautiful they are! III. My genial spirits fail, To lift the smothering weight from off my breast? It were a vain endeavour, Though I should gaze for ever On that green light that lingers in the west: IV. O Lady! we receive but what we give, Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud! Than that inanimate cold world allowed And from the soul itself must there be sent V. 0 This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist, Joy, virtuous Lady! Joy that ne'er was given, Save to the pure, and in their purest hour, Life, and Life's effluence, cloud at once and shower, Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud— We in ourselves rejoice! And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight, All melodies the echoes of that voice, All colours a suffusion from that light. VI. There was a time when, though my path was rough, This joy within me dallied with distress, And all misfortunes were but as the stuff Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness: Suspends what nature gave me at my birth, For not to think of what I needs must feel, From my own nature all the natural man— VII. Hence, viper thoughts, that coil around my mind, Reality's dark dream! I turn from you, and listen to the wind, Which long has raved unnoticed. What a scream Of agony by torture lengthened out That lute sent forth! Thou Wind, that ravest without, Bare crag, or mountain-tairn,* or blasted tree, * Tairn is a small lake, generally if not always applied to the lakes up in the mountains, and which are the feeders of |