THE AZIOLA.

I.

"Do you not hear the Aziola cry? Methinks she must be nigh,"

Said Mary, as we sate

In dusk, ere stars were lit, or candles brought;
And I, who thought

This Aziola was some tedious woman,

Asked, "Who is Aziola?"

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How elate

I felt to know that it was nothing human,

No mockery of myself to fear or hate:

And Mary saw my soul,

And laughed, and said, "Disquiet yourself not; 'Tis nothing but a little downy owl."

IO

II.

Sad Aziola! many an eventide

Thy music I had heard

By wood and stream, meadow and mountain-side,
And fields and marshes wide,

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Such as nor voice, nor lute, nor wind, nor bird,

The soul ever stirred;

Unlike and far sweeter than them all.

Sad Aziola! from that moment I

Loved thee and thy sad cry.

A LAMENT.

I.

Oн, world! oh, life! oh, time!

On whose last steps I climb

Trembling at that where I had stood before;

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When will return the glory of your prime?

No more—O, never more!

Out of the day and night

II.

A joy has taken flight ;

Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar, Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight

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1821.

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The swallow summer comes again-
The owlet night resumes his reign-

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But the wild-swan youth is fain

To fly with thee, false as thou.

My heart each day desires the morrow;
Sleep itself is turned to sorrow;
Vainly would my winter borrow

Sunny leaves from any bough.

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WHERE art thou, beloved To-morrow?
When young and old and strong and weak,
Rich and poor, through joy and sorrow,

Thy sweet smiles we ever seek,

In thy place ah! well-a-day!

We find the thing we fled - To-day.

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1821.

LINES.

IF I walk in Autumn's even

While the dead leaves pass,

If I look on Spring's soft heaven,-
Something is not there which was.
Winter's wondrous frost and snow,

Summer's clouds, where are they now?

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ΤΟ

I.

ONE word is too often profaned
For me to profane it,

One feeling too falsely disdained

For thee to disdain it.

One hope is too like despair

For prudence to smother,

And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.

II.

I can give not what men call love,
But wilt thou accept not

The worship the heart lifts above

And the Heavens reject not,

The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,

The devotion to something afar

From the sphere of our sorrow?

ΤΟ

I.

WHEN passion's trance is overpast,
If tenderness and truth could last
Or live, whilst all wild feelings keep
Some mortal slumber, dark and deep,
I should not weep, I should not weep!

II.

It were enough to feel, to see
Thy soft eyes gazing tenderly,

And dream the rest

and burn and be

The secret food of fires unseen,

Couldst thou but be as thou hast been

III.

After the slumber of the year

The woodland violets re-appear,
All things revive in field or grove

And sky and sea, but two, which move

And form all others, life and love.

A BRIDAL SONG.

I.

THE golden gates of Sleep unbar

Where Strength and Beauty met together

Kindle their image like a star

In a sea of glassy weather.

Night, with all thy stars look down,
Darkness, weep thy holiest dew,
Never smiled the inconstant moon

On a pair so true.

Let eyes not see their own delight;
Haste, swift Hour, and thy flight

Oft renew.

II.

Fairies, sprites, and angels keep her!
Holy stars, permit no wrong!

IO

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ΙΟ