Which come arrayed in thoughts of little

worth,

Like stars in clouds by the weak winds enwrought,

But that the clouds depart and stars remain, While they remain, and ye, alas, depart!

FRAGMENT: DEAD BUT NOT

FORGOTTEN.

AND where is truth? On tombs? for such to thee

Has been my heart-and thy dead memory Has lain from childhood, many a changeful

year

Unchangingly preserved and buried there.

FRAGMENT:

"A GENTLE STORY OF TWO LOVERS YOUNG."

A GENTLE story of two lovers young,

Who met in innocence and died in sorrow, And of one selfish heart, whose rancour clung Like curses on them; are ye slow to borrow The lore of truth from such a tale? Or in this world's deserted vale, Do ye not see a star of gladness

Pierce the shadows of its sadness,

When ye are cold, that love is a light sent From heaven, which none shall quench, to cheer

the innocent?

FRAGMENT OF AN INCANTATION.

I.

WHEN a lover clasps his fairest,
Then be our dread sport the rarest.
Their caresses were like the chaff
In the tempest, and be our laugh
His despair-her epitaph!

II.

When a mother clasps her child,
Watch till dusty Death has piled
His cold ashes on the clay;
She has loved it many a day—
She remains, it fades away.

FRAGMENT: AN UNFINISHED TALE.

ONE sung of thee who left the tale untold, Like the false dawns which perish in the bursting:

Like empty cups of wrought and dædal gold, Which mock the lips with air, when they are thirsting.

FRAGMENT: THE ROMAN'S CHAMBER.

I.

IN the cave which wild weeds cover
Wait for thine ætherial lover;
For the pallid moon is waning,
O'er the spiral cypress hanging
And the moon no cloud is staining.

II.

It was once a Roman's chamber,
Where he kept his darkest revels,
And the wild weeds twine and clamber;
It was then a chasm for devils.

FRAGMENT: ROME AND NATURE.

ROME has fallen, ye see it lying

Heaped in undistinguished ruin:
Nature is alone undying.

FRAGMENT: POETRY AND MUSIC.

How sweet it is to sit and read the tales
Of mighty poets and to hear the while
Sweet music, which when the attention fails
Fills the dim pause-

FRAGMENT: THE SERPENT.

WAKE the serpent not-lest he
Should not know the way to go,-
Let him crawl which yet lies sleeping
Through the deep grass of the meadow!
Not a bee shall hear him creeping,
Not a may-fly shall awaken

From its cradling blue-bell shaken,
Not the starlight as he's sliding

Through the grass with silent gliding.

FRAGMENT: FITFUL RAIN.

THE fitful alternations of the rain,
When the chill wind, languid as with pain
Of its own heavy moisture, here and there
Drives through the grey and beamless atmos-
phere.

FRAGMENT: LOVE'S ATMOSPHERE.

THERE is a warm and gentle atmosphere
About the form of one we love, and thus
As in a tender mist our spirits are

Wrapt in the

of that which is to us

The health of life's own life.

TO WILLIAM SHELLEY.

THY little footsteps on the sands
Of a remote and lonely shore ;
The twinkling of thine infant hands,

Where now the worm will feed no more:

Thy mingled look of love and glee

When we returned to gaze on thee.

TO WILLIAM SHELLEY.

(With what truth may I say-
Roma! Roma! Roma!

Non è più come era prima !)

I.

My lost William, thou in whom
Some bright spirit lived, and did
That decaying robe consume
Which its lustre faintly hid,
Here its ashes find a tomb,

But beneath this pyramid1
Thou art not-if a thing divine
Like thee can die, thy funeral shrine
Is thy mother's grief and mine.

II.

Where art thou, my gentle child?
Let me think thy spirit feeds,
With its life intense and mild,

The love of living leaves and weeds,
Among these tombs and ruins wild ;-

Let me think that through low seeds
Of sweet flowers and sunny grass,
Into their hues and scents may pass
A portion-

The pyramid alluded to is the ancient tomb of Caius Cestius, which forms the principal object of the protestant burial ground at Rome where the child was buried.-ED.