pect of good for the fortunes of his friend, and pleasure in his society, and instantly exerted himself to have the plan executed. He did not intend himself joining in the work; partly from pride, not wishing to have the air of acquiring readers for his poetry by associating it with the compositions of more popular writers: and, also, because he might feel shackled in the free expression of his opinions, if any friends were to be compromised; by those opinions, carried even to their utmost extent, he wished to live and die, as being in his conviction not only true, but such as alone would conduce to the moral improvement and happiness of mankind. The sale of the work might, meanwhile, either really or supposedly, be injured by the free expression of his thoughts, and this evil he resolved to avoid.

POEMS WRITTEN IN 1822.

THE ZUCCA.*

SUMMER was dead and Autumn was expiring,
And infant Winter laughed upon the land
All cloudlessly and cold;—when I, desiring
More in this world than any understand,
Wept o'er the beauty, which, like sea retiring,

Had left the earth bare as the wave-worn sand Of my poor heart, and o'er the grass and flowers Pale for the falsehood of the flattering hours.

Summer was dead, but I yet lived to weep,
The instability of all but weeping;
And on the earth lulled in her winter sleep
I woke, and envied her as she was sleeping.
Too happy Earth! over thy face shall creep
The wakening vernal airs, until thou, leaping
From unremembered dreams shalt [
1 see
No death divide thy immortality.

I loved-O no, I mean not one of ye,
Or any earthly one, though ye are dear
As human heart to human heart may be ;-

I loved, I know not what—but this low sphere, And all that it contains, contains not thee,

Thou, whom, seen nowhere, I feel everywhere, Dim object of my soul's idolatry.

By Heaven and Earth, from all whose shapes thou flowest,

Neither to be contained, delayed, or hidden,

* Pumpkin.

Making divine the loftiest and the lowest,

When for a moment thou art not forbidden To live within the life which thou bestowest,

And leaving noblest things, vacant and chidden, Cold as a corpse after the spirit's flight,

Blank as the sun after the birth of night.

In winds, and trees, and streams, and all things common,

In music, and the sweet unconscious tone Of animals, and voices which are human,

Meant to express some feelings of their own; In the soft motions and rare smile of woman,

In flowers and leaves, and in the fresh grass shown,

Or dying in the autumn, I the most

Adore thee present, or lament thee lost.

And thus I went lamenting, when I saw
A plant upon the river's margin lie,
Like one who loved beyond his Nature's law,
And in despair had cast him down to die;
Its leaves which had outlived the frost, the thaw
Had blighted as a heart which hatred's eye
Can blast not, but which pity kills; the dew
Lay on its spotted leaves like tears too true

The Heavens had wept upon it, but the Earth
Had crushed it on her unmaternal breast

I bore it to my chamber, and I planted

It in a vase full of the lightest mould; The winter beams which out of Heaven slanted Fell through the window panes, disrobed of cold, Upon its leaves and flowers; the star which panted In evening for the Day, whose car has rolled Over the horizon's wave, with looks of light Smiled on it from the threshold of the night.

The mitigated influences of air

And light revived the plant, and from it grew Strong leaves and tendrils, and its flowers fair, Full as a cup with the vine's burning dew, O'erflowed with golden colours; an atmosphere Of vital warmth, infolded it anew, And every impulse sent to every part The unbeheld pulsations of its heart.

Well might the plant grow beautiful and strong, Even if the sun and air had smiled not on it; For one wept o'er it all the winter long

Tears pure as Heaven's rain, which fell upon it Hour after hour; for sounds of softest song

Mixed with the stringed melodies that won it
To leave the gentle lips on which it slept,
Had loosed the heart of him who sat and wept.

Had loosed his heart, and shook the leaves and flowers

On which he wept, the while the savage storm Waked by the darkest of December's hours

Was raving round the chamber hushed and

warm;

The birds were shivering in their leafless bowers,
The fish were frozen in the pools, the form
Of every summer plant was dead [
Whilst this

]

TO A LADY WITH A GUITAR.

ARIEL to Miranda :-Take

This slave of music, for the sake
Of him, who is the slave of thee;
And teach it all the harmony

In which thou canst, and only thou,
Make the delighted spirit glow,
Till joy denies itself again,
And, too intense, is turned to pain.
For by permission and command
Of thine own Prince Ferdinand,
Poor Ariel sends this silent token
Of more than ever can be spoken;
Your guardian spirit, Ariel, who
From life to life must still pursue
Your happiness, for thus alone
Can Ariel ever find his own;
From Prospero's enchanted cell,
As the mighty verses tell,
To the throne of Naples he
Lit you o'er the trackless sea,
Flitting on, your prow before,
Like a living meteor.

When you die, the silent Moon,
In her interlunar swoon,
Is not sadder in her cell
Than deserted Ariel;

When you live again on earth,
Like an unseen Star of birth,
Ariel guides you o'er the sea
Of life from your nativity:
Many changes have been run
Since Ferdinand and you begun

Your course of love, and Ariel still

Has tracked your steps and served your will

Now in humbler, happier lot,

This is all remembered not;

And now, alas! the poor sprite is
Imprisoned for some fault of his
In a body like a grave—
From you, he only dares to crave,
For his service and his sorrow,
A smile to-day, a song to-morrow.