Thou enterest on a stage, in sooth,

Which few so fair unscathed may tread, And pardon, when it notes thy youth, Delight if dimm'd with dread.

How well-how well, when yet a boy,
I saw it rise-I can recall

An orb of glory and of joy,

Of which thyself but saw the fall.
What form wore love so lovelily?
Hers was the Virgin-mother's air!
And in her brow-and calmest eye-
How brightly slept the angel there!
She was a thing, like thee, that seemed
Almost too glorious for desire;

And all of which Romance had dreamed,
Tamed all that Passion meant to fire.

Look round-and where the bright-the holy-
The Dawn star ?-fallen from its skies!

And apter Vice and craftier Folly,

Where nobler Natures weep-despise.

And Fashion smiles upon the crime,

But frowns in wrath on the revealing; And nought save Silence, Memory, Time, Are hers, to whom a world was kneeling!

Ah! doth the sin deserve the sting

To gorge all Malice with her shame?

And feel her glory grown a thing

That Fops affect a scorn to claim ?

And Thou, fair lady of my line,

Sweet Namesake of my heart's recorded, Thou, too, art doom'd at least to shine

Where nought save Art can be rewarded. In that false world to which thou 'rt chained, Who sins not, is too tame to reign; And Custom in an hour hath gained, What Vice for aye had stormed in vain. And duller-colder sins shall mar

The gloss upon thy spirit's pinion; This sorcerer World but makes the star It most invokes, the most its minion. And all the pleasures which possess thee But dim thy heart while they caress thee;And Truth will lose her virgin beauty ;--And Art shall mould itself to Duty ;--And all that Fashion bids thee follow Leave Love forsworn and Friendship hollow. I would not meet thee when some years Have taught thy heart how folly sears, And trifles now so tempting frittered Away the youth they but embittered, When all our fancies most adore, Cling round that joyous form no more, When the still graces of the cheek Forget the soul's soft tale to speak. Nor would we seek to learn that tale, Nor court the coy thought from its veil,

As one who with a charmed soul
Hath lurked within some faëry knoll,
And borne to grosser earth again,
The memory of the bright domain-
As he--if wise---would ask no more
That land-too lovely--to explore,
Lest, as we read in faëry story,
The realm should wither from its glory.
And all nurst now in worship--fleet,
And prove delight was but deceit.
So would I throne my soul's romance,
Above the reach of Time and Chance,
So--as a new-blest lover keepeth

Sweet watch the while the lov'd one sleepeth ;---
So watch'd-so unawaked should be,
The rare and lovely dream of thee,
So cling my haunted thoughts unto it,
-But shun the madness to renew it.

But come-our robe aside we fling,
And quit the Sage's mimic seat,
Too glad in humbler guise to sing

No solemn measure at thy feet-
'Too glad if thou wilt deign to feel,

When softer chords are touched, tho' lightly;

Or, if our livelier satire steal

A smile from one who smiles so brightly--

Too glad if thou wilt not despise

A tale that boasts no charming' Giaours,' A strain that mingles smiles with sighs, Nor always smothers sense with flowersToo glad if thou but gently blame

The simple string that ties our posies, Tho' violets take their wonted name,

And rouge is banished from our roses--Too glad if thou the faults forgive, Which harsher eyes will judge severely; And if within thy memory live

One line of His---who loves thee dearly!