Therefore, O Spirit! fearlessly bear on : Though storms may break the primrose on its stalk, Fear not then, Spirit, death's disrobing hand, So welcome when the tyrant is awake, So welcome when the bigot's hell-torch flares ; 'Tis but the voyage of a darksome hour, The transient gulph-dream of a startling sleep. For what thou art shall perish utterly, But what is thine may never cease to be; Death is no foe to virtue: earth has seen Love's brightest roses on the scaffold bloom, Mingling with freedom's fadeless laurels there, And presaging the truth of visioned bliss. Are there not hopes within thee, which this scene Of linked and gradual being has confirmed? Hopes that not vainly thou, and living fires Of mind, as radiant and as pure as thou Have shone upon the paths of men Surpassing Spirit, to that world, where thou Art destined an eternal war to wage return With tyranny and falsehood, and uproot Earth's pride and meanness could not vanquish thee, Whose sleepless spirit waits to catch The Dæmon called its wingèd ministers. Speechless with bliss the Spirit mounts the car, That rolled beside the crystal battlement, Bending her beamy eyes in thankfulness. The burning wheels inflame The steep descent of Heaven's untrodden wa Fast and far the chariot flew : The mighty globes that rolled Around the gate of the Eternal Fane With borrowed light pursued their narrower The chariot paused a moment; The shadows with swift wings Speeded like thought upon the light of Hea The Body and the Soul united then, A gentle start convulsed Ianthe's frame : Her veiny eyelids quietly unclosed; Moveless awhile the dark blue orbs remaine She looked around in wonder and beheld Henry, who kneeled in silence by her couch Watching her sleep with looks of speechless And the bright beaming stars That through the casement shone. TO MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT GODWIN. peared ower way. Heaven. e: I. MINE eyes were dim with tears unshed; To meet thy looks I could not know II. To sit and curb the soul's mute rage Of fettered grief that dares not groan, III. Whilst thou alone, then not regarded, The thou alone should be, To spend years thus, and be rewarded, IV. Upon my heart thy accents sweet On flowers half dead; thy lips did me Mine tremblingly; thy dark eyes thre Their soft persuasion on my brain, Charming away its dream of pain. V. We are not happy, sweet! our state Reserve or censure come not near Our sacred friendship, lest there be No solace left for thee and me. VI. Gentle and good and mild thou art, |