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Be thou a curse on them whose creed Divides and multiplies the most high God! 1821.
I WOULD not be a king—Enough
Of woe it is to love:
And tempests reign above.
I would not climb the imperial throne;
Thaws in the height of noon.
Care would not come so soon.
0 Thou immortal deity
Whose throne is in the depth of human thought,
1 do adjure thy power and thee
By all that man may be, by all that he is not,
He wanders, like a day-appearing dream,
Through desert woods and tracts, which seem
WHO DESIRED THAT ON HIS TOMB SHouLD BE INSCRIBED
"Here lieth One whose name was writ on water."
Death, the immortalizing winter, flew
Athwart the stream,—and time's monthless torrent grew
A scroll of crystal, blazoning the name
The rude wind is singing
The cold worms are clinging
"What art thou, presumptuous, who profanest
The wreath to mighty poets only due,
Touch not those leaves which for the eternal few
In sacred dedication ever grew ;—
"Ah! friend, 'tis the false laurel that I wear.
As that which bound Milton's immortal hair; Its dew is poison; and the hopes that quicken
Under its chilling shade, though seeming fair, Are flowers which die almost before they sicken."
WHEN soft winds and sunny skies
The babe is at peace within the womb,
And so she moved under the bridal veil,
The bridemaidens who round her thronging came :,
But they are all dispersed—and lo! she stands
With agony, with sorrow, and with pride,
He lifted his wan eyes upon the bride,
And said—'* Is this thy faith?" And then, as one
Whose sleeping face is stricken by the sun
With light like a harsh voice, which bids him rise
And look upon his day of life with eyes
Which weep in vain that they can dream no more,
Ginevra saw her lover; and forbore
To shriek or faint, and checked the stifling blood
Rushing upon her heart, and unsubdued
Said: "Friend, if earthly violence or ill,
Suspicion, doubt, or the tyrannic will
Of parents, chance or custom, time or change,
Or circumstance or terror or revenge,
Or wildered looks or words, or evil speech,
With all their stings and venom, can impeach
Our love,—we love not. If the grave, which hides
The victim from the tyrant, and divides
The cheek that whitens from the eyes that dart
Imperious inquisition to the heart
That is another's, could dissever ours,
We love not."—" What! do not the silent hours
Beckon thee to Gherardi's bridal bed?
Is not that ring" a pledge, he would have said,
Of broken vows. But she with patient look The golden circle from her finger took, And said: "Accept this token of my faith, The pledge of vows to be absolved by death. And I am dead, or shall be soon—my knell Will mix its music with that merry bell; Does it not sound as if they sweetly said VOL. II. Z
'We toll a corpse out of the marriage bed?'
Like an accuser branded with the crime
Meanwhile the day sinks fast, the sun is set,