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All happy things that love the sun

In the bright air glanc'd by, And a glad murmur seem'd to run

Through the soft azure sky.

Fresh leaves were on the ivy-bough

That fring’d the ruins near ; Young voices were abroad—but thou

Their sweetness couldst not hear.

And mournful grew my heart for thee,

Thou in whose woman's mind
The ray that brightens earth and sea,

The light of song was shrined.

Mournful, that thou wert slumbering low,

With a dread curtain drawn Between thee and the golden glow

Of this world's vernal dawn.

Parted from all the song and bloom

Thou wouldst have lov'd so well, To thee the sunshine round thy tomb

Was but a broken spell.

The bird, the insect on the wing,

In their bright, reckless play, Might feel the flush and life of spring,

And thou wert pass'd away!

But then, ev’n then a nobler thought
O’er
my

vain sadness came ; Th' immortal spirit woke, and wrought

Within my thrilling frame.

Surely on lovelier things, I said,

Thou must have look'd ere now, Than all that round our pathway shed

Odors and hues below.

The shadows of the tomb are here,

Yet beautiful is earth! What seest thou then where no dim fear,

No haunting dream hath birth ?

Here a vain love to passing flowers
Thou gav'st

but where thou art, The sway is not with changeful hours,

There love and death must part.

Thou hast left sorrow in thy song,

A voice not loud, but deep !
The glorious bowers of earth among,

How often didst thou weep!

Where couldst thou fix on mortal ground

Thy tender thoughts and high ?Now peace the woman's heart hath found,

And joy the poet's eye.

NOTES.

Note 1, page 7, line 20, and page 8, line 1.
When darkness, from the vainly-doting sight,

Covers its beautiful! “Wheresoever you are, or in what state soever you be, it sufficeth me you are mine. Rachel wept, and would not be comforted, because her children were no more. And that, indeed, is the remediless sorrow, and none else!”-From a letter of Arabella Stuart's to her husband. --See Curiosities of Literature.

Note 2, page 15, lines 13 and 14.
Death!--what, is death a lock'd and treasur'd thing,

Guarded by swords of fire ? “And if you remember of old, I dare die.- Consider what the world would conceive, if I should be violently enforced to do it."-Fragments of her Letters.

Note 3, page 21, lines 13 and 14. And her lovely thoughts from their cells found way In the sudden flow of a plaintive lay. A Greek bride, on leaving her father's house, takes leave of her friends and relatives frequently in extemporaneous verse.-See Fauriel's Chants Populaires de la Grèce Moderne.

Note 4, page 57, line 3. And lov'd when they should hate-like thee, Imelda. The tale of Imelda is related in Sismondi's Histoire des Républiques Italiennes. Vol. iii, p. 443.

Note 5, page 96, line 9.

Father of ancient waters, roll! “Father of waters," the Indian name for the Mississippi.

Note 6, page 104, line 21. And to the Fairy's fountain in the glade. A beautiful fountain near Domremi, believed to be haunted by fairies, and a favorite resort of Jeanne d'Arc in her childhood.

Note 7, page 107, lines 5 and 6.
But loveliest far amidst the revel's pride

Was she, the lady from the Danube-side. The Princess Pauline Schwartzenberg. The story of her fate is beautifully related in L'Allemagne. Vol. iii, p. 336.

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