SONG FOR "TASSO."

I LOVED-alas! our life is love;
But when we cease to breathe and move
I do suppose love ceases too.

I thought, but not as now I do,
Keen thoughts and bright of linked lore,
Of all that men had thought before,
And all that nature shows, and more.

And still I love and still I think,
But strangely, for my heart can drink
The dregs of such despair, and live,
And love;

And if I think, my thoughts come fast,
I mix the present with the past,
And each seems uglier than the last.

Sometimes I see before me flee
A silver spirit's form, like thee,
O Leonora, and I sit
Still watching it,

Till by the grated casement's ledge
It fades, with such a sigh, as sedge
Breathes o'er the breezy streamlet's edge.

LOVE LEFT ALONE.

I LOVED, I love, and when I love no more,
Let joys and grief perish, and leave despair
To ring the knell of youth. He stood beside me,
The embodied vision of the brightest dream,
Which like a dawn heralds the day of life;
The shadow of his presence made my world
A paradise. All familiar things he touched,
All common words he spoke, became to me
Like forms and sounds of a diviner world.
He was as is the sun in his fierce youth,
As terrible and lovely as a tempest;
He came, and went, and left me what I am.

Alas! Why must I think how oft we two
Have sate together near the river springs,
Under the green pavilion which the willow
Spreads on the floor of the unbroken fountain,
Strewn by the nurslings that linger there,
Over that islet paved with flowers and moss,

While the musk-rose leaves, like flakes of crimson

snow,

Showered on us, and the dove mourned in the pine,
Sad prophetess of sorrows not her own?

The crane returned to her unfrozen haunt,
And the false cuckoo bade the spray good morn ;
And on a wintry bough the widowed bird,
Hid in the deepest night of ivy-leaves,
Renewed the vigils of a sleepless sorrow.
An Unfinished Drama.

G

1822.

A SONG.

A WIDOW bird sate mourning for her love
Upon a wintry bough;
The frozen wind crept on above,

The freezing stream below.

There was no leaf upon the forest bare,

No flower upon the ground,

And little motion in the air

Except the mill-wheel's sound.

1822.

LOVE AND PARTING.

SHE saw me not-she heard me not-alone Upon the mountain's dizzy brink she stood; She spake not, breathed not, moved not-there was thrown

Over her look, the shadow of a mood

Which only clothes the heart in solitude, A thought of voiceless depth;-she stood alone, Above, the Heavens were spread ;—below, the flood Was murmuring in its caves; the wind had blown Her hair apart, thro' which her eyes and forehead

shone.

A cloud was hanging o'er the western mountains; Before its blue and moveless depth were flying Grey mists poured forth from the unresting fountains Of darkness in the North :-the day was dying :Sudden, the sun shone forth, its beams were lying Like boiling gold on Ocean, strange to see, And on the shattered vapours, which defying The power of light in vain, tossed restlessly In the red Heaven, like wrecks in a tempestuous sea.

It was a stream of living beams, whose bank
On either side by the cloud's cleft was made;
And where its chasms that flood of glory drank,
Its waves gushed forth like fire, and as if swayed
By some mute tempest, rolled on her; the shade
Of her bright image floated on the river

Of liquid light, which then did end and fade-
Her radiant shape upon its verge did shiver;
Aloft, her flowing hair like strings of flame did quiver.

I stood beside her, but she saw me not-
She looked upon the sea, and skies, and earth;
Rapture, and love, and admiration wrought
A passion deeper far than tears, or mirth,
Or speech, or gesture, or whate'er has birth
From common joy; which, with the speechless
feeling

That led her there united, and shot forth

From her far eyes, a light of deep revealing,

All but her dearest self from my regard concealing.

Her lips were parted, and the measured breath
Was now heard there ;—her dark and intricate eyes
Orb within orb, deeper than sleep or death,
Absorbed the glories of the burning skies,
Which, mingling with her heart's deep ecstasies,
Burst from her looks and gestures ;-and a light
Of liquid tenderness like love, did rise

From her whole frame, an atmosphere which quite Arrayed her in its beams, tremulous and soft and bright

She would have clasped me to her glowing frame; Those warm and odorous lips might soon have shed On mine the fragrance and the invisible flame Which now the cold winds stole ;-she would have laid

Upon my languid heart her dearest head;

I might have heard her voice, tender and sweet ; Her eyes mingling with mine, might soon have fed My soul with their own joy.-One moment yet I gazed-we parted then, never again to meet ! Revolt of Islam, Canto xi.

TO F. G.

HER voice did quiver as we parted,

Yet knew I not that heart was broken
From which it came, and I departed

Heeding not the words then spoken.

Misery O Misery,

This world is all too wide for thee.