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The beings that surrounded him were gone,
He held his dialogues; and they did teach
To him the book of night was opened wide,
My dream was past; it had no further change. It was of a strange order, that the doom
Of these two creatures should be thus traced out
Almost like a reality—the one
To end in madness-both in misery.
(From "DON JUAN.")
WAS twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters; like a veil Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is masked but to assail,
Thus to their hopeless eyes the night was shown,
Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell—
Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave— Then some leaped overboard with dreadful yell,
As eager to anticipate their grave;
And the sea yawned around her like a hell,
And down she sucked with her the whirling wave,
And first one universal shriek there rushed,
There were two fathers in this ghastly crew,
And with them their two sons, of whom the one
Was more robust and hardy to the view;
But he died early; and when he was gone,
His nearest messmate told his sire, who threw
One glance on him, and said, "Heaven's will be done!
I can do nothing;" and he saw him thrown
The other father had a weaklier child,
And o'er him bent his sire, and never raised
His eyes from off his face, but wiped the foam From his pale lips, and ever on him gazed:
And when the wished-for shower at length was come, And the boy's eyes, which the dull film half glazed, Brightened, and for a moment seemed to roam, He squeezed from out a rag some drops of rain Into his dying child's mouth; but in vain!
The boy expired-the father held the clay,
And looked upon it long; and when at last Death left no doubt, and the dead burthen lay
Stiff on his heart, and pulse and hope were past, He watched it wistfully, until away
'Twas borne by the rude wave wherein 'twas cast; Then he himself sunk down all dumb and shivering, And gave no sign of life, save his limbs quivering.
"THERE'S NOT A JOY," ETC.
HERE'S not a joy the world can give like that it takes
When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull
'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone which fades so fast,
But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past.
Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness
Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt or ocean of excess :
Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes
It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own;
Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth attract the breast,
Through midnight hours that yield no more their former
'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruined turret wreath,
O could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have been,
As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be,
So midst the withered waste of life, those tears would flow to me!
SPRING IN RAVENNA.
HE sun is up, and 'tis a morn of May
Round old Ravenna's clear-shown towers and bay, A morn, the loveliest which the year has seen, Last of the Spring, yet fresh with all its green; For a warm eve, and gentle rains at night, Have left a sparkling welcome for the light, And there's a crystal clearness all about; The leaves are sharp, the distant hills look out; A balmy briskness comes upon the breeze; The smoke goes dancing from the cottage trees; And when you listen, you may hear a coil, Of bubbling springs about the grassy soil:
And all the scene, in short-sky, earth, and sea— Breathes like a bright-eyed face, that laughs out openly.
"Tis Nature, full of spirits, waked and springing :-