Imatges de pàgina


Could'st thou, celestial beauty! view my heart-
View the dear image on that heart impressid ;
So like thyself-and unimpassion'd read
The indented motto-Love ?

0, when the heart which hath so well

Its deep and lone devotion provid,
Is still—and tongue has ceas'd to tell

How fervently it lov'd.
Then, then, around thy soul shall cling
Fond memory's imagining.”

o I have lov'd-yes, wildly lov'd,

As none e'er lov'd before;
Passion within my heart has dwelt,
And fed upon its core-

Passion which now through every vein
Climbs to my hot and mad’ning brain.

I've lov'd, methinks, so strangely pure

So deeply, warmly, well,

As man can never hope to know,
Or tongue may dare to tell.

My love, like her that gave it birth,
Has not its likeness on this earth.

I love not, o I cannot love

As other beings doMine is the soul's idolatry,

As fierce as it is true;

A raging flame that will not die-
A frenzy of sweet agony !

They coldly tell me Time will cure

This fever of my breast-
This fond delirium of the heart-
This murderer of my rest.

They tell me Time's been ever found
To heal a slighted lover's wound.

But let the chilly cynics preach

To tamer souls than mine,
And bid the wretch who lightly loves
-Go linger and repine.

I scorn to be compassion's slave-
A soldier's freehold is the grave.

Yes ! death for me has little sting,

If all this world could give
To gladden life-has faithlessly
Condemn'd me not to live;

And yet, О heaven! 'tis hard to die
To perish—for one's constancy!

TO C. J. A.

“ Breast to breast, and lip to lip, our souls
Shall flee together, and our latest sighs
Mingle in death!”

“I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap,
And be buried in thy heart."

REMEMBEREST thou the gladsome time

When joy was in its spring, And Cupid fann'd our early love

With warm and playful wing ?
O then, though nurs’d in beauty's lap,

And free to rove at will,
Yet well thou knowest, even then,

Thou wert my darling still.

I've ever thought true-love should be

Like that enduring flame, Which vestal sighs were wont to keep

Undyingly the same.

So like that constant fire, my love,

No earthly blight can chill, For after ten fast-fleeting years,

Thou art my darling still.

And when thy present roses shall

Of many winters speak,
I'll fold thee closer to my heart,

And kiss thy paler cheek.
Then smile upon thy faithful one,

Nor dream of any ill, For while I live, my gentle Kate,

Thou'lt be my darling still.

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