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THE BROKEN HEART.
Sylv. Ha! who's there?
Jeron. Must I then speak, and tell my name to you ?
Sylv. Begone. I'll wake my husband, if
Jeron. Why should I not?—No, no, poor girl!
I come not To mar your delicate limbs with outrage. I Have lov'd too well for that. Had you but lov'd
Sylv. I did, I did.
Jeron. Away—my brain is well, (Though late 'twas hot ;) You lov’d? Away, away; This to a dying man?
Sylv. Oh! you will live
Jeron. Nay, pr’ythe cease. Sylvestra, you and I
Sylv. Alas! Jeronymo.
Sylv. Oh no.
Jeron. Go on.
Sylv. And figuring many a shape grotesque ; Camels and caravans, and mighty beasts, Hot prancing steeds, and warriors plum'd and
Jeron. What is this?
Jeron. Fair Sylvestra,
Sylv. Now you're jesting.
Jeron. Girl! Now, I am-dying. Oh! I feel my blood Ebb slowly; and before the morning sun Visits your chamber through those trailing vines, I shall lie here, here in your chamber, dead, Dead, dead, dead, dead: Nay, shrink not.
Jeron. Hide your eyes :
Sylv. Not me.
Jeron. Yes. Lov'd
like life ; like heaven and happiness : Lov'd and kept your name against his heart (Ill boding amulet) 'till death. Sylv. Alas!
[thoughts Jeron. And now I come to bring your wandering Back to their innocent home. Thus, as 'tis said, Do spirits quit their leaden urns, to tempt Wretches from sio. Some have been seen o'nights To stand and point their rattling finger at The red moon as it rose; (perhaps to turn Man's thoughts on high.) Some their lean arms bave stretch'd
[laugh'd 'Tween murderers and their victims : some have Ghastly, upon—the bed of wantonness, And touch'd the limbs with death.
Sylv. You will not harm me?
di Sylv. Pr’ythee go.
You fright me.
Jeron. Yet I'd not do so, Sylvestra: I will but tell you, you have used me harshly, (That is not much,) and die: nay, fear me not
Fint. Towe Like Wher Flour Stand Like One Wort With And Like
I would not chill, with this decaying touch, Threaten'd, and vow'd, cajold, and then mar-
(nied. As if enamoured and loth to leave their homes
Sylv. What's the matter? Of beauty: nor should this thy white cheek fade
Jeron. Soft! The night wind sounds From fear at me, a poor heart-broken wretch: A funeral dirge, for me, sweet. Let me lie Look at me. Why, the winds sing through my bones, Upon thy breast; I will not chill’t, my love. And children jeer me, and the boughs that wave It is a shrine where Innocence might die: And whisper loosely in the summer air
Nay, let me lie there once ; for once, Sylvestra,
Jeron. So I do.
Sylu. Then talk not thus;
Look in my eye, and mark how true the tale Not happy. Death was busy with our house
I've told you: On its glassy surface lies
Death, my Sylvestra. It is Nature's last
And gain'd this frail flesh credit in the world.
Draws and reveals that subtle power, that doth
Sylv. Why, now you're cheerful.
Jeron. Yes; 'tis thus I'd die. You'd quite forgotten Italy.
Sylv. Now I must smile. Jeron. Speak again,
Jeron. Do so, and I'll smile too. Was't so indeed ?
I do; albeit-Ah! now my parting words Sylv. Indeed, indeed.
Lie heavy on my tongue; my lips obey not, [cao, Jeron. Then be it.
And-speech-comes difficult from me. Whilel
Sylv. Ah! cold.
They've used us hardly: bless 'em though. Thou wilt The journey is but short, and we can reckon
Forgive them. One's a mother, and feel,
may On slumbering sweetly with the freshest earth
When that she knows me dead. Some air-more air: Sprinkled about us. There no storms can shake
Where are you:-I am blind-my hands are numb'd:
This is a wintry night.-S0,-cover me.
Jeron. Then I
But And On J Or, Front And Whe
His And And
, or seemed
Had come like fairy visions, and departed.
Mournfully to the fields of Thessaly,
And there I saw, piercing the deep blue sky,
And radiant with his diadem of snow,
Crowned Olympus: and the hills below
Looked like inferior spirits tending round
His pure supremacy; and a sound
Went rolling onwards through the sunny calm,
As if immortal voices then had spoken,
The silence which that holy place had bred.
I knelt-and as I knelt, haply in token
Of thanks, there fell a honeyed shower of balm;
And the imperial mountain bowed his hoary head. 21b Like Ida's woody summits and sweet fields, este Where all that Nature yields
And then came one who on the Nubian sands
Egyptian, in her state was seen;
And how she smil'd, and kissed his willing hands,
And said she would not love, and swore to die,
And laughed upon the Roman Antony.
Has one, and never more
Shall one like thee tread on the Egypt shore, · Not one of those figures divine
Or lavish such royal magnificence:
Never shall one laugh, love, or die like thee,
Or own so sweet a witchery :
Half the wide world to live
With that enchantress, did become thee well;
For Love is wiser than Ambition.-
Queen and thou, lofty triumvir, fare ye
And then I heard the sullen waters roar,
And saw them cast their surf upon the strand,
And then rebounding toward some far-seen land, A shepherd youth he looked, but trod
They washed and washed its melancholy shore:
And the terrific spirits, bred
In the sea-caverns, moved by those fierce jars, ('Fore Midas,) in the Phrygian shade,
Rose up like giants from their watery bed,
And shook their silver hair against the stars.
Then, bursts like thunder-joyous outcries wild-
Sounds as from trumpets, and from drums,
And music, like the lulling noise that comes
From nurses when they bush their charge to sleep,
Methought one told me that a child
Was that night unto the great Neptune born;
And then old Triton blew his curled horn,
And the Leviathan lashed the foaming seas,
And the wanton Nereides
And laughed and sung like tipsy Bacchanals,
Upou my ear.- I trembled and awoke,
Now, give me but a cot that's good,
In some great town's neighbourhood:
A garden, where the winds may play
Fresh from the blue hills far away,
And wanton with such trees as bear
Stamp Yet ve
Moun And Wher
He w To he A mi Amic Or si And Heh
Their loads of green through all the year,
She whom I loved bas fled; Laurel, and dusky juniper:
And now with the lost dead So may some friends, whose social talk
I rank her; and the heart that loved her so, I love, there take their evening walk,
(But could not bear her pride,) And spend a frequent holiday.
In its own cell hath died,
And turn'd to dust,,but this she shall not know.
'Twould please her did she think Stored with books of poesy,
That my poor frame did shrink, Tale, science, old morality,
And waste and wither; and that love's own light Fable, and divine history,
Did blast its temple, where Ranged in separate cases round,
'Twas worshipped many a year; Each with living marble crown'd;
Veild (like some holy thing) from human sight. Here should Apollo stand, and there
Oh! had you seen her when
She languished, and the men
Turned, but returned again
To mark the winding vein Or the wing’d Mercurius,
Steal tow'rd her marbled bosom silently. Or some that conquest lately brought
What matters this :-thou Lyre, From the land Italian.
Nothing shall e'er inspire And one I'd have, whose heaving breast
Thy master to rehearse those songs again : Should rock me nightly to my rest,
She whom he loved is gone, By holy chains bound fast to me,
And he, now left alone,
Sings, when he sings of love, in vain, in vain.
TO A CHILD. (Else, haply, she might change as soon,)
Fairest of earth's creatures! Or Portia, that high Roman dame,
All thy innocent features Or she who set the world on flame,
Moulded in beauty do become thee well. Spartan Helen, who did leave
Oh! may thy future years Her husband-king to grieve,
Be free from pains, and fears, And fled with Priam's shepherd-boy,
False love, and others envy, and the guile And caus'd the mighty tale of Troy.
That lurks beneath a friendlike smile,
And all the various ills that dwell She should be a woman who
In this so strange compounded world; and may (Graceful without much endeavour)
Thy look be like the skies of May, Could praise or excuse all I do,
Supremely soft and clear, And love me ever.
With, now and then, a tear I'd have her thoughts fair, and her skin
For joy, or others sorrows, not thy own; White as the white soul within;
And may thy sweet voice
Like a stream afar
Flow in perpetual music, and its tone
Be joyful, and bid all who hear rejoice. As did of old Pygmalion.
And may thy bright eye, like a star,
And take in all the beauty of the flowers,
Which thou may'st note above thee
Brightly the passion rose,
And, till it's turbulent close,
Deem me not false, ye fair,
Who, with your golden hair And soft
chain man's heart to yours: the deer Thus bound by beauty's chain
Wanders not again :
His Wh And His
And Enc She
Shine sweet, and cheer the hearts that love thee,
Deep woods and running brooks, and the rich sights
At noontide, or on interlunar nights,
B A T H
GUIDO AND ISABEL.
And love for innocence, when thou didst face Speak of forbearance, 'till from her pouting lip
She frowned, and wore that self-betraying air
That women loved and flattered love to wear.
Oft would he, as on that same spot they lay
Beneath the last light of a summer's day, And note all things below that own a grace,
Tell (and would watch the while her stedfast eye,) Mountain, and cataract, and silent lake,
How on the lone Pacific he had been, And wander in the fields of poesy,
When the sea lion on his watery way
Went rolling thro' the billows green,
He rambled in his boyhood far away,
And spoke of other worlds and wonders fair
And mighty and magnificent, for he He was the last of all his race, and fled
Had seen the bright sun worshipp'd like a god
Upon that land where tirst Columbus trod; To haughty Genoa where the Dorias reigned :
And travelled by the deep Saint Lawrence' tide, A mighty city once, tho' now she sleeps
And by Niagara's cataracts of foam, Amidst her amphitheatre of hills,
And seen the wild deer roam
Amongst interminable forests, where
The serpent and the savage have their lair
Together. Nature there in wildest guise
Stands undebased and nearer to the skies; And budding girls when first their dreamings faint
And midst her giant trees and waters wide Shew them such forms as maids may love. He stood
The bones of things forgotten, buried deep, Fine as those shapely spirits heaven-descended,
Give glimpses of an elder world, espied
By us but in that fine and dreamy sleep,
When fancy, ever the inother of deep truth,
Breathes her dim oracles on the soul of youth.
CONCLUSION OF THE FALCON.
Giana! my Giana! we will have
Nothing but halcyon days: Oh! we will live Enough to say that she was born to bless.
As happily as the bees that hive their sweets, She was surpassing fair: her gentle voice
And gaily as the summer fly, but wiser: Came like the fabled music that beguiles
I'll be thy servant ever; yet not so.
Oh! my own love, divinest, best, I'll be
And thou shalt be iny flower perennial,
My heart, and thou shalt never never fade.
I'll love thee mightily, my queen, and in And Guido, with his arm 'round Isabel,
The sultry hours I'll sing thee to thy rest Unclasped the tresses of her chesnut hair,
With music sweeter than the wild birds' song:
And I will swear thine eyes are like the stars,
My gentle deity! I'll crown thee with
The whitest lilies and then bow me down And oh! 'twas sweet to see her delicate hand Love's own idolater, and worship thee. Pressed 'gainst his parted lips, as tho' to check And thou wilt then be mine? my love, love! In mimic anger all those whispers bland
How foodly will we pass our lives together;
And wander, beart-link'd, thro' the busy world
Gia. Oh! you rave.
A DRAMATIC SCENE.