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Noon descends, and after noon
Autumn's evening meets me soon,
Leading the infantine moon,
And that one star, which to her
Almost seems to minister
Half the crimson light she brings
From the sunset's radiant springs :
And the soft dreams of the morn,
(Which like wingèd winds had borne
To that silent isle, which lies

'Mid remembered agonies,

The frail bark of this lone being,)
Pass, to other sufferers fleeing,
And its ancient pilot, Pain,

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LIFT not the painted veil which those who live
Call Life though unreal shapes be pictured there,

And it but mimic all we would believe

With colours idly spread, — behind, lurk Fear

And Hope, twin destinies; who ever weave

Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew o
one who had lifted it he sought,

For his lost heart was tender, things to love,

But found them not, alas! nor was there aught
The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move,
A splendour among shadows, a bright blot
Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove
For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.

SONG, ON A FADED VIOLET.

I.

THE odour from the flower is gone
Which like thy kisses breathed on me;

The colour from the flower is flown
Which glowed of thee and only thee!

II.

A shrivelled, lifeless, vacant form,

It lies on my abandoned breast,

And mocks the heart which yet is warm,
With cold and silent rest.

1818.

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it breathes no more on me;

ΙΟ

STANZAS,

WRITTEN IN DEJECTION NEAR NAPLES.

I.

THE Sun is warm, the sky is clear,
The waves are dancing fast and bright,
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
The purple noon's transparent might,
The breath of the moist earth is light,
Around its unexpanded buds;

Like many a voice of one delight,
The winds, the birds, the ocean floods,
The City's voice itscir is soft like Solitude's.

II.

I see the Deep's untrampled floor

With green and purple seaweeds strown;

I see the waves upon the shore,

Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown :

I sit upon the sands alone,

The lightning of the noon-tide ocean

Is flashing round me, and a tone

Arises from its measured motion,

How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.

III.

Alas! I have nor hope nor health,

Nor peace within nor calm around,

Nor that content surpassing wealth

The sage in meditation found,

And walked with inward glory crowned Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. Others I see whom these surround

ΙΟ

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Smiling they live, and call life pleasure ;-
To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.

IV.

Yet now despair itself is mild,

Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care

Which I have borne and yet must bear,
Till death like sleep might steal on me,

And I might feel in the warm air
My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea
Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.

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V.

Some might lament that I were cold,
As I, when this sweet day is gone,
Which my lost heart, too soon grown old,
Insults with this untimely moan;

They might lament-for I am one
Whom men love not,—and yet regret,

Unlike this day, which, when the sun

Shall on its stainless glory set,

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Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet. 45