CANZONET. I. MAIDEN! wrap thy mantle round thee, Thy bed may be, And thou mayst slumber peacefully. II. Maiden! once gay pleasure knew thee; Yet, poor maiden, do not weep: There's rest for thee All under the tree, Where thou wilt sleep most peacefully. COMMENCEMENT OF A POEM ON DESPAIR. SOME to Aonian lyres of silver sound Her heart light dancing to the sounds of pleasure, Such subjects merit poets used to raise 'Tis wan Despair I sing; if sing I can, Of him before whose blast the voice of song, Howls forth his sufferings to the moaning wind; 'Tis him I sing-Despair-terrific name, Of timorous terror-discord in the sound: Dare not I woo the maids of harmony, Who love to sit, and catch the soothing sound Calling the hero to the field of glory, And firing him with deeds of high emprise, Who dares to sound the hollow tones of horror. Alluding to the two pleasing poems, the "Pleasures of Hope" and of Memory." Hence, then, soft maids, And woo the silken zephyr in the bowers Hither, ye furious imps of Acheron, Leap from the lake, and join the dreadful song. TO THE WIND. AT MIDNIGHT. NOT unfamiliar to mine ear, Blasts of the night! ye howl as now, With fitful force ye beat. Mine ear has dwelt in silent awe, Poured deep the hollow dirge. THE EVE OF DEATH. IRREGULAR. I. SILENCE of Death-portentous calm, I see, I see, that ere the morn, His spear will forsake its hated rest, And the widowed wife of Larrendill will beat her naked breast. II. O'er the smooth bosom of the sullen deep No softly-ruffling zephyrs fly; But nature sleeps a deathless sleep, For the hour of battle is nigh. Not a loose leaf waves on the dusky oak, Strike, oh, ye bards! the melancholy harp, III. Behold, how along the twilight air The shades of our fathers glide! |