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False, unkind, or found too late
What can we do but sigh at fate,
And sing Wo's me-Wo's me!

Love's a boundless burning waste,
Where bliss's stream we seldom taste,
And still more solemn flee

Suspense's thorns, Suspicion's stings;
Yet somehow Love a something brings
That's sweet-ev'n when we sigh Wo's me!

SONG.

EARL March looked on his dying child,
And smit with grief to view her—
The youth, he cried, whom I exiled,
Shall be restored to woo her.

She's at the window many an hour
His coming to discover:

And her love looked up to Ellen's bower,
And she looked on her lover-

But ah! so pale, he knew her not,
Though her smile on him was dwelling

And am I then forgot-forgot?

It broke the heart of Ellen.

In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs,
Her cheek is cold as ashes;

Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes
To lift their silken lashes.

ABSENCE.

"Tis not the loss of love's assurance, It is not doubting what thou art, But 'tis the too, too long endurance

Of absence, that afflicts my heart.

The fondest thoughts two hearts can cherish,
When each is lonely doomed to weep,
Are fruits on desert isles that perish,
Or riches buried in the deep.

What though, untouched by jealous madness,
Our bosom's peace may fall to wreck;
Th' undoubting heart, that breaks with sadness,
Is but more slowly doomed to break.

Absence! is not the soul torn by it

From more than light, or life, or breath? "Tis Lethe's gloom, but not its quietThe pain without the peace of death!

SONG.

WITHDRAW not yet those lips and fingers,
Whose touch to mine is rapture's spell;
Life's joy for us a moment lingers,

And death seems in the word-farewell.
The hour that bids us part and go,
It sounds not yet, oh! no, no, no.

Time, while I gaze upon thy sweetness,
Flies like a courser nigh the goal;
To-morrow where shall be his fleetness,
When thou art parted from my soul?
Our hearts shall beat, our tears shall flow,
But not together—no, no, no!

"

THE LAST MAN.

ALL worldly shapes shall melt in gloom,
The Sun himself must die,

Before this mortal shall assume
Its Immortality!

I saw a vision in my sleep,

That gave my spirit strength to sweep
Adown the gulf of Time!
I saw the last of human mould,
That shall Creation's death behold,
As Adam saw her prime'

The Sun's eye had a sickly glare,
The Earth with age was wan,
The skeletons of nations were
Around that lonely man!

Some had expired in fight,—the brands
Still rusted in their bony hands;

In plague and famine some!

Earth's cities had no sound nor tread
And ships were drifting with the dead
To shores where all was dumb!

Yet, prophet like, that lone one stood,
With dauntless words and high,

That shook the sere leaves from the wood
As if a storm passed by,

Saying, We are twins in death, proud Sun, Thy face is cold, thy race is run,

"Tis Mercy bids thee go.

For thou ten thousand thousand years
Hast seen the tide of human tears,

That shall no longer flow.

What though beneath thee man put forth His pomp, his pride, his skill;

And arts that made fire, floods, and earth,

The vassals of his will;
"Yet mourn not I thy parted sway,
Thou dim discrowned king of day:
For all those trophied arts

And triumphs that beneath thee sprang,
Healed not a passion or a pang
Entailed on human hearts.

Go, let oblivion's curtain fall
Upon the stage of men,
Nor with thy rising beams recall
Life's tragedy again.

Its piteous pageants bring not back,
Nor waken flesh upon the rack
Of pain anew to writhe;

Stretched in disease's shapes abhorred,
Or mown in battle by the sword,
Like grass beneath the scythe.

Ev'n I am weary in yoǹ skies
To watch thy fading fire;
Test of all sumless agonies,
Behold not me expire.

My lips that speak thy dirge of death—
Their rounded gasp and girgling breath
To see thou shalt not boast.

The eclipse of Nature spreads my pall,-
The majesty of Darkness shall
Receive my parting ghost!

This spirit shall return to Him
That gave its heavenly spark;
Yet think not, Sun, it shall be dim
When thou thyself art dark!
No! it shall live again, and shine
In bliss unknown to beams of thine,
By him recalled to breath,

Who captive led captivity,

Who robbed the grave of Victory,-
And took the sting from death!

Go, Sun, while Mercy holds me up
On Nature's awful waste

To drink this last and bitter cup

Of grief that man shall taste—
Go, tell that night that hides thy face,
Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race,
On Earth's sepulchral clod,
The dark'ning universe defy
To quench his Immortality,
Or shake his trust in God!

THE RITTER BANN.

THE Ritter Bann from Hungary
Came back, renowned in arms,
But scorning jousts of chivalry
And love and ladies' charms.

While other knights held revels, he
Was wrapt in thoughts of gloom,
And in Vienna's hostelrie

Slow paced his lonely room.

There entered one whose face he knew,

Whose voice, he was aware,

He oft at mass had listened to,

In the holy house of prayer.

"Twas the Abbot of St. James's monks, A fresh and fair old man;

His reverend air arrested ev'n
The gloomy Ritter Bann.

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