"And Thou Art Dead, as Young and Fair"

    And thou art dead, as young and fair
        As aught of mortal birth;
    And form so soft, and charms so rare,
        Too soon return'd to Earth!
    Though Earth receiv'd them in her bed,
    And o'er the spot the crowd may tread
        In carelessness or mirth,
    There is an eye which could not brook
    A moment on that grave to look.

  I will not ask where thou liest low,
      Nor gaze upon the spot;
  There flowers or weeds at will may grow,
      So I behold them not:
  It is enough for me to prove
  That what I lov'd, and long must love,
      Like common earth can rot;
  To me there needs no stone to tell,
  'T is Nothing that I lov'd so well.

  Yet did I love thee to the last
      As fervently as thou,
  Who didst not change through all the past,
      And canst not alter now.
  The love where Death has set his seal,
  Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,
      Nor falsehood disavow:
  And, what were worse, thou canst not see
  Or wrong, or change, or fault in me.

  The better days of life were ours;
      The worst can be but mine:
  The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers,
      Shall never more be thine.
  The silence of that dreamless sleep
  I envy now too much to weep;
      Nor need I to repine
  That all those charms have pass'd away,
  I might have watch'd through long decay.

  The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd
      Must fall the earliest prey;
  Though by no hand untimely snatch'd,
      The leaves must drop away:
  And yet it were a greater grief
  To watch it withering, leaf by leaf,
      Than see it pluck'd to-day;
  Since earthly eye but ill can bear
  To trace the change to foul from fair.

  I know not if I could have borne
      To see thy beauties fade;
  The night that follow'd such a morn
      Had worn a deeper shade:
  Thy day without a cloud hath pass'd,
  And thou wert lovely to the last,
      Extinguish'd, not decay'd;
  As stars that shoot along the sky
  Shine brightest as they fall from high.

  As once I wept, if I could weep,
      My tears might well be shed,
  To think I was not near to keep
      One vigil o'er thy bed;
  To gaze, how fondly! on thy face,
  To fold thee in a faint embrace,
      Uphold thy drooping head;
  And show that love, however vain,
  Nor thou nor I can feel again.

  Yet how much less it were to gain,
      Though thou hast left me free,
  The loveliest things that still remain,
      Than thus remember thee!
  The all of thine that cannot die
  Through dark and dread Eternity
      Returns again to me,
  And more thy buried love endears
  Than aught except its living years

"Darkness"

  I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
  The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
  Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
  Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
  Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
  Morn came and went--and came, and brought no day,
  And men forgot their passions in the dread
  Of this their desolation; and all hearts
  Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
  And they did live by watchfires--and the thrones,
  The palaces of crowned kings--the huts,
  The habitations of all things which dwell,
  Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd,
  And men were gather'd round their blazing homes
  To look once more into each other's face;
  Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
  Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
  A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;
  Forests were set on fire--but hour by hour
  They fell and faded--and the crackling trunks
  Extinguish'd with a crash--and all was black.
  The brows of men by the despairing light
  Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
  The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
  And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
  Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd;
  And others hurried to and fro, and fed
  Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up
  With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
  The pall of a past world; and then again
  With curses cast them down upon the dust,
  And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd
  And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
  And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
  Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd
  And twin'd themselves among the multitude,
  Hissing, but stingless--they were slain for food.
  And War, which for a moment was no more,
  Did glut himself again: a meal was bought
  With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
  Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
  All earth was but one thought--and that was death
  Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
  Of famine fed upon all entrails--men
  Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
  The meagre by the meagre were devour'd,
  Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,
  And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
  The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,
  Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
  Lur'd their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
  But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
  And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
  Which answer'd not with a caress--he died.
  The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two
  Of an enormous city did survive,
  And they were enemies: they met beside
  The dying embers of an altar-place
  Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things
  For an unholy usage; they rak'd up,
  And shivering scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands
  The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
  Blew for a little life, and made a flame
  Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
  Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
  Each other's aspects--saw, and shriek'd, and died--
  Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
  Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
  Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
  The populous and the powerful was a lump,
  Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless--
  A lump of death--a chaos of hard clay.
  The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
  And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths;
  Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
  And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd
  They slept on the abyss without a surge--
  The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
  The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before;
  The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
  And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
  Of aid from them--She was the Universe.

"To Catherine"

Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes,
  Suffus'd in tears, implore to stay;
And heard unmov'd thy plenteous sighs,
  Which said far more than words can say?

Though keen the grief thy tears exprest,
  When love and hope lay both o'erthrown;
Yet still, my girl, this bleeding breast
  Throbb'd, with deep sorrow, as thine own.

But, when our cheeks with anguish glow'd,
  When thy sweet lips were join'd to mine;
The tears that from my eyelids flow'd
  Were lost in those which fell from thine.

Thou could'st not feel my burning cheek,
  Thy gushing tears had quench'd its flame,
And, as thy tongue essay'd to speak,
  In sighs alone it breath'd my name.

And yet, my girl, we weep in vain,
  In vain our fate in sighs deplore;
Remembrance only can remain,
  But that, will make us weep the more.

Again, thou best belov'd, adieu!
  Ah! if thou canst, o'ercome regret,
Nor let thy mind past joys review,
  Our only hope is, to forget!

"Farewell to the Muse"

Thou Power! who hast ruled me through Infancy's days,
    Young offspring of Fancy, 'tis time we should part;
Then rise on the gale this the last of my lays,
    The coldest effusion which springs from my heart.

This bosom, responsive to rapture no more,
    Shall hush thy wild notes, nor implore thee to sing;
The feelings of childhood, which taught thee to soar,
    Are wafted far distant on Apathy's wing.

Though simple the themes of my rude flowing Lyre,
    Yet even these themes are departed for ever;
No more beam the eyes which my dream could inspire,
    My visions are flown, to return,---alas, never!

When drain'd is the nectar which gladdens the bowl,
    How vain is the effort delight to prolong!
When cold is the beauty which dwelt in my soul,
    What magic of Fancy can lengthen my song?

Can the lips sing of Love in the desert alone,
    Of kisses and smiles which they now must resign ?
Or dwell with delight on the hours that are flown ?
    Ah, no! for those hours can no longer be mine.

Can they speak of the friends that I lived but to love?
    Ah, surely Affection ennobles the strain!
But how can my numbers in sympathy move,
    When I scarcely can hope to behold them again?

Can I sing of the deeds which my Fathers have done,
    And raise my loud harp to the fame of my Sires?
For glories like theirs, oh, how faint is my tone!
    For Heroes' exploits how unequal my fires!

Untouch'd, then, my Lyre shall reply to the blast---
    'Tis hush'd; and my feeble endeavors are o'er;
And those who have heard it will pardon the past,
    When they know that its murmurs shall vibrate no more.

And soon shall its wild erring notes be forgot,
    Since early affection and love is o'ercast:
Oh! blest had my Fate been, and happy my lot,
    Had the first strain of love been the dearest, the last.

Farewell, my young Muse! since we now can ne'er meet;
    If our songs have been languid, they surely are few:
Let us hope that the present at least will be sweet---
    The present---which seals our eternal Adieu.

"And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am low?"

And wilt thou weep when I am low?
    Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so---
    I would not give that bosom pain.

My heart is sad, my hopes are gone,
    My blood runs coldly through my breast;
And when I perish, thou alone
    Wilt sigh above my place of rest.

And yet, methinks, a gleam of peace
    Doth through my cloud of anguish shine:
And for a while my sorrows cease,
    To know thy heart hath felt for mine.

Oh lady! blessd be that tear---
    It falls for one who cannot weep;
Such precious drops are doubly dear
    To those whose eyes no tear may steep.

Sweet lady! once my heart was warm
    With every feeling soft as thine;
But Beauty's self hath ceased to charm
    A wretch created to repine.

Yet wilt thou weep when I am low ?
    Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so---
    I would not give that bosom pain.

"When We Two Parted"

When we two parted
    In slience and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
    To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
    Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
    Sorrow to this!

The dew of the morning
    Sunk chill on my brow;
It felt like the warning
    Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
    And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken
    And share in it's shame.

They name thee before me,
    A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me-
    Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee
    Who knew thee too well;
How long shall I rue thee
    Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met:
    In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
    Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
    After long years,
How should I greet thee?-
    With silence and tears.

"So We'll Go No More a Roving"

So we'll go no more a roving
    So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
    And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
    And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
    And Love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
    And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a roving
    By the light of the moon.

"To Caroline (4)"

Oh when shall the grave hide for ever my sorrow?
  Oh when shall my soul wing her flight from this clay?
The present is hell, and the coming to-morrow
  But brings, with new torture, the curse of to-day.

From my eye flows no tear, from my lips flow no curses
  I blast not the fiends who have hurl'd me from bliss;
For poor is the soul which bewailing rehearses
  Its querulous grief, when in anguish like this.

Was my eye, 'stead of tears, with red fury flakes bright'ning,
  Would my lips breathe a flame which no stream could assuage
On our foes should my glance launch in vengeance its lightning,
  With transport my tongue give loose to its rage.

But now tears and curses, alike unavailing,
  Would add to the souls of our tyrants delight;
Could they view us our sad separation bewailing
  Their merciless hearts would rejoice at the sight.

Yet still, though we bend with a feign'd resignation,
  Life beams not for us with one ray that can cheer;
Love and hope upon earth bring no more consolation,
  In the grave is our hope, for in life is our fear.

Oh! when, my adored, in the tomb will they place me,
  Since, in life, love and friendship for ever are fled?
If again in the mansion of death I embrace thee,
  Perhaps they will leave unmolested the dead.

"On This Day I Complete My Thirty-sixth Year"

'Tis time the heart should be unmoved,
    Since others it hath ceased to move:
Yet, though I cannot be beloved,
          Still let me love!

My days are in the yellow leaf;
    The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
          Are mine alone!

The fire that on my bosom preys
    Is lone as some volcanic isle;
No torch is kindled at its blaze--
        A funeral pile.

The hope, the fear, the jealous care,
    The exalted portion of the pain
And power of love, I cannot share,
        But wear the chain.

But 'tis not thus--and 'tis not here--
    Such thoughts should shake my soul nor now,
Where glory decks the hero's bier,
        Or binds his brow.

The sword, the banner, and the field,
    Glory and Greece, around me see!
The Spartan, borne upon his shield,
        Was not more free.

Awake! (not Greece--she is awake!)
    Awake, my spirit! Think through whom
Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake,
        And then strike home!

Tread those reviving passions down,
    Unworthy manhood!--unto thee
Indifferent should the smile or frown
        Of beauty be.

If thou regrett'st thy youth, why live?
    The land of honourable death
Is here:--up to the field, and give
        Away thy breath!

Seek out--less often sought than found--
    A soldier's grave, for thee the best;
Then look around, and choose thy ground,
        And take thy rest.

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