Part 13

The curtains waved, the wakened flies Were murmuring round my room, Imprisoned there, till I should rise, And give them leave to roam.

Oh, stars, and dreams, and gentle night; Oh, night and stars, return! And hide me from the hostile light That does not warm, but burn;

That drains the blood of suffering men; Drinks tears, instead of dew; Let me sleep through his blinding reign, And only wake with you!

THE PHILOSOPHER.

Enough of thought, philosopher! Too long hast thou been dreaming Unlightened, in this chamber drear, While summer's sun is beaming! Space-sweeping soul, what sad refrain Concludes thy musings once again?

"Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity. And never care how rain may steep, Or snow may cover me! No promised heaven, these wild desires Could all, or half fulfil; No threatened hell, with quenchless fires, Subdue this quenchless will!"

"So said I, and still say the same; Still, to my death, will say-- Three gods, within this little frame, Are warring night; and day; Heaven could not hold them all, and yet They all are held in me; And must be mine till I forget My present entity! Oh, for the time, when in my breast Their struggles will be o'er! Oh, for the day, when I shall rest, And never suffer more!"

"I saw a spirit, standing, man, Where thou dost stand--an hour ago, And round his feet three rivers ran, Of equal depth, and equal flow-- A golden stream--and one like blood; And one like sapphire seemed to be; But, where they joined their triple flood It tumbled in an inky sea The spirit sent his dazzling gaze Down through that ocean's gloomy night; Then, kindling all, with sudden blaze, The glad deep sparkled wide and bright-- White as the sun, far, far more fair Than its divided sources were!"

"And even for that spirit, seer, I've watched and sought my life-time long; Sought him in heaven, hell, earth, and air, An endless search, and always wrong. Had I but seen his glorious eye ONCE light the clouds that wilder me; I ne'er had raised this coward cry To cease to think, and cease to be;

I ne'er had called oblivion blest, Nor stretching eager hands to death, Implored to change for senseless rest This sentient soul, this living breath-- Oh, let me die--that power and will Their cruel strife may close; And conquered good, and conquering ill Be lost in one repose!"

REMEMBRANCE.

Cold in the earth--and the deep snow piled above thee, Far, far, removed, cold in the dreary grave! Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave?

Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover Over the mountains, on that northern shore, Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover Thy noble heart for ever, ever more?

Cold in the earth--and fifteen wild Decembers, From those brown hills, have melted into spring: Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers After such years of change and suffering!

Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee, While the world's tide is bearing me along; Other desires and other hopes beset me, Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!

No later light has lightened up my heaven, No second morn has ever shone for me; All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given, All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee.

But, when the days of golden dreams had perished, And even Despair was powerless to destroy; Then did I learn how existence could be cherished, Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy.

Then did I check the tears of useless passion-- Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine; Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten Down to that tomb already more than mine.

And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain; Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again?

A DEATH-SCENE.

"O day! he cannot die When thou so fair art shining! O Sun, in such a glorious sky, So tranquilly declining;

He cannot leave thee now, While fresh west winds are blowing, And all around his youthful brow Thy cheerful light is glowing!

Edward, awake, awake-- The golden evening gleams Warm and bright on Arden's lake-- Arouse thee from thy dreams!

Beside thee, on my knee, My dearest friend, I pray That thou, to cross the eternal sea, Wouldst yet one hour delay:

I hear its billows roar-- I see them foaming high; But no glimpse of a further shore Has blest my straining eye.

Believe not what they urge Of Eden isles beyond; Turn back, from that tempestuous surge, To thy own native land.

It is not death, but pain That struggles in thy breast-- Nay, rally, Edward, rouse again; I cannot let thee rest!"

One long look, that sore reproved me For the woe I could not bear-- One mute look of suffering moved me To repent my useless prayer: