POEMS WRITTEN IN 1818. SONNET, TO THE NILE. MONTH after month the gathered rains descend On Atlas, fields of moist snow half depend. Girt there with blasts and meteors Tempest dwells By Nile's aërial urn, with rapid spells That soul-sustaining airs and blasts of evil And fruits and poisons spring where'er thou flowest. Beware, O Man-for knowledge must to thee Like the great flood to Egypt ever be. PASSAGE OF THE APENNINES. LISTEN, listen, Mary mine, To the whisper of the Apennine; It bursts on the roof like the thunder's roar, Or like the sea on a northern shore, Heard in its raging ebb and flow. By the captives pent in the cave below. Is a mighty mountain dim and grey, On the dim starlight then is spread, And the Apennine walks abroad with the storm. THE PAST. I. WILT thou forget the happy hours Blossoms and leaves instead of mould ? II. Forget the dead, the past? O yet There are ghosts that may take revenge for it, Memories that make the heart a tomb, Regrets which glide through the spirit's gloom, And with ghastly whispers tell That joy, once lost, is pain. SONNET. 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 Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear. I knew one who had lifted it—he sought, INVOCATION TO MISERY. I. COME, be happy!-sit by me, Coy, unwilling, silent bride, II. Come, be happy!-sit near me: III. Misery! we have known each other, Living in the same lone home, Many years we must live some Hours or ages yet to come. IV. 'Tis an evil lot, and yet Let us make the best of it; If love lives when pleasure dies, V. Come, be happy!-lie thee down VI. There our tent shall be the willow, Sounds and odours, sorrowful Because they once were sweet, shall lull Us to slumber, deep and dull. VII. Ha! thy frozen pulses flutter With a love thou darest not utter. Thou art murmuring-thou art weeping Is thine icy bosom leaping While my burning heart lies sleeping? VIII. Kiss me;-oh! thy lips are cold: IX. Hasten to the bridal bed Underneath the grave 'tis spread: We may rest, and none forbid. X. Clasp me till our hearts be grown Like a vapour In the sleep that lasts alway. XI. We may dream, in that long sleep, Thou mayst dream of her with me. XII. Let us laugh, and make our mirth, As dogs bay the moonlight clouds, XIII. All the wide world, beside us, Puppets passing from a scene; What but mockery can they mean, Where I am-where thou hast been? STANZAS, WRITTEN IN DEJECTION NEAR NAPLES. I. The sun is warm, the sky is clear, The waves are dancing fast and bright, |