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Then for a beam of joy to light
In memory's sad and wakeful eye!
Or banish from the noon of night
Her dreams of deeper agony.

Shall Song its witching cadence roll?
Yea, even the tenderest air repeat,
That breathed when soul was knit to soul,
And heart to heart responsive beat?

What visions rise! to charm, to melt!
The lost, the loved, the dead are near!
Oh, hush that strain too deeply felt!
And cease that solace too severe !

But thou, serenely silent art!

By heaven and love wast taught to lend A milder solace to the heart,

The sacred image of a friend.

All is not lost! if, yet possest,

To me that sweet memorial shine :

If close and closer to my breast

I hold that idol all divine.

Or, gazing through luxurious tears,
Melt o'er the loved departed form,
Till death's cold bosom half appears
With life, and speech, and spirit warm.

She looks! she lives! this tranced hour,
Her bright eye seems a purer gem
Than sparkles on the throne of power,
Or glory's wealthy diadem.

Yes, Genius, yes! thy mimic aid

A treasure to my soul has given, Where beauty's canonizèd shade

Smiles in the sainted hues of heaven,

No spectre forms of pleasure fled,

Thy softening, sweetening, tints restore; For thou canst give us back the dead, E'en in the loveliest looks they wore.

Then blest be Nature's guardian Muse,
Whose hand her perish'd grace redeems!
Whose tablet of a thousand hues
The mirror of creation seems.

From Love began thy high descent;
And lovers, charm'd by gifts of thine,
Shall bless thee mutely eloquent;

And call thee brightest of the Nine!

THE MAID'S REMONSTRANCE.

NEVER wedding, ever wooing,

Still a love-lorn heart pursuing,

Read you not the wrong you're doing In my cheek's pale hue?

All

my life with sorrow strewing,

Wed, or cease to woo.

Rivals banish'd, bosoms plighted,

Still our days are disunited;
Now the lamp of hope is lighted,

Now half-quench'd appears,

Damp'd, and wavering, and benighted, 'Midst my sighs and tears.

Charms you call your dearest blessing,

Lips that thrill at your caressing,
Eyes a mutual soul confessing,

Soon you'll make them grow
Dim, and worthless your possessing,
Not with age, but woe!

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 doom'd to weep,

Are fruits on desert isles that perish,
Or riches buried in the deep.

What though, untouch'd by jealous madness,
Our bosom's peace may fall to wreck;
Th' undoubting heart, that breaks with sadness,
Is but more slowly doom'd 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 quiet,

The pain without the peace of death!

LINES

INSCRIBED ON THE MONUMENT LATELY FINISHED BY MR. CHANTREY,

Which has been erected by the Widow of Admiral Sir G. Campbell, K. C. B. to the memory of her Husband.

To him, whose loyal, brave, and gentle heart,
Fulfill'd the hero's and the patriot's part,—
Whose charity, like that which Paul enjoin'd,
Was warm, beneficent, and unconfined,—
This stone is rear'd: to public duty true,
The seaman's friend, the father of his crew-
Mild in reproof, sagacious in command,
He spread fraternal zeal throughout his band,
And led each arm to act, each heart to feel,
What British valour owes to Britain's weal.
These were his public virtues :—but to trace
His private life's fair purity and grace,
To paint the traits that drew affection strong
From friends, an ample and an ardent throng,
And, more, to speak his memory's grateful claim,
On her who mourns him most, and bears his name-
O'ercomes the trembling hand of widow'd grief,
O'ercomes the heart, unconscious of relief,
Save in religion's high and holy trust,
Whilst placing their memorial o'er his dust.

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