O clasp me, sweet, whilst thou art mine,
And do not take my tears amiss;
For tears must flow to wash away
A thought that shows so stern as this
Forgive, if some while I forget,
In woe to come, the present bliss.
As frighted Proserpine let fall
Her flowers at the sight of Dis,
Ev'n so the dark and bright will kiss.
The sunniest things throw sternest shade,
And there is ev'n a happiness

That makes the heart afraid!
Now let us with a spell invoke

The full orb'd moon to grieve our eyes;
Not bright, not bright, but, with a cloud
Lapp'd all about her, let her rise
All pale and dim, as if from rest
The ghost of the late buried sun
Had crept into the skies.

The Moon! she is the source of sighs,
The very face to make us sad;
If but to think in other times
The same calm quiet look she had,
As if the world held nothing base,
Of vile and mean, of fierce and bad;
The same fair light that shone in streams,
The fairy lamp that charm'd the lad;
For so it is, with spent delights

She taunts men's brains, and makes them mad.

All things are touched with Melancholy,

Born of the secret soul's mistrust,

To feel her fair ethereal wings

Weighed down with vile degraded dust;
Even the bright extremes of joy
Bring on conclusions of disgust,
Like the sweet blossoms of the May,
Whose fragrance ends in must.
O give her, then, her tribute just,

Her sighs and tears, and musings holy !
There is no music in the life

That sounds with idiot laughter solely;
There's not a string attuned to mirth,
But has its chord in Melancholy.

ON A NATIVE SINGER

AFTER HEARING MISS ADELAIDE KEMBLE.

As sweet as the bird that by calm Bendemeer,
Pours such rich modulations of tone-
As potent, as tender, as brilliant, as clear-
Still her voice has a charm of its own.

For lo! like the skylark, when after its song
It drops down to its nest from above,
She reminds us her home and her music belong
To the very same soil that we love.

GUIDO AND MARINA.

A DRAMATIC SKETCH.

[Guido, having given himself up to the pernicious study of magic and astrology, casts his nativity, and resolves that at a certain hour of a certain day he is to die. Marina, to wean him from this fatal delusion, which hath gradually wasted him away, even to the verge of death, advances the hour-hand of the clock, He is supposed to be seated beside her in the garden of his palace at Venice.]

Guido. Clasp me again! My soul is very sad; And hold thy lips in readiness near mine, Lest I die suddenly. Clasp me again!

Tis such a gloomy day!

Mar.

Nay, sweet, it shines.

Guido. Nay, then, these mortal clouds are in

mine eyes.

Clasp me again!-ay, with thy fondest force,

Give me one last embrace.

Mar.

Love, I do clasp thee!

Guido. Then closer-closer-for I feel thee

not;

Unless thou art this pain around my heart.
Thy lips at such a time should never leave me.
Mar. What pain—what time, love? Art thou
ill? Alas!

I see it in thy cheek. Come, let me nurse thee.
Here rest upon my heart.

Guido.

Stay, stay, Marina. Look !-when I raise my hand against the sun,

Is it red with blood?

Mar.

thou?

Alas! my love, what wilt

Thy hand is red—and so is mine—all hands
Show thus against the sun.

Guido.

All living men's,

Marina, but not mine. Hast never heard
How death first seizes on the feet and hands,
And thence goes freezing to the very heart?
Mar. Yea, love, I know it; but what then?—
this hand

I hold is glowing.

Guido.

But my eyes!—my eyes! Look there, Marina--there is death's own sign.

I have seen a corpse,

E'en when its clay was cold, would still have seemed

Alive, but for the eyes-such deadly eyes!
So dull and dim! Marina, look in mine!

Mar. Ay, they are dull. No, no—not dull, but bright:

I see myself within them. Now, dear love,
Discard these horrid fears that make me weep.
Guido. Marina, Marina-where thy image lies
There must be brightness—or perchance they
glance

And glimmer like the lamp before it dies.
Oh, do not vex my soul with hopes impossible!
My hours are ending.
[Clock strikes.

Mar.
Nay, they shall not! Hark!
The hour-four-five-hark! six!-the very time!
And, lo! thou art alive! My love-dear love-
Now cast this cruel phantasm from thy brain-
This wilful, wild delusion-cast it off!

The hour is come-and-gone! What! not a word!
What, not a smile, even, that thou livest for me!
Come, laugh and clap thy hands as I do-come.
Or kneel with me, and thank th' eternal God
For this blest passover! Still sad! still mute!—
Oh, why art thou not glad, as I am glad,
That death forbears thee? Nay, hath all my love
Been spent in vain, that thou art sick of life?

Guido. Marina, I'm no more attached to death Than Fate hath doomed me. I am his elect,

That even now forestalls my little light,
And steals with cold infringement on my breath:
Already he bedims my spiritual lamp,

Not yet his due-not yet-quite yet, though Time,
Perchance, to warn me, speaks before his wont
Some minutes' space my blood has still to flow-
Some scanty breath is left me still to spend
In very bitter sighs.

But there's a point, true measured by my pulse,
Beyond or short of which it may not live

By one poor throb. Marina, it is near.

Mar. Oh, God of heaven!

Guido. Ay, it is very near. Therefore, cling now to me, and say farewell Whilst I can answer it. Marina, speak! Why tear thine helpless hair! it will not save Thy heart from breaking, nor pluck out the thought

That stings thy brain. Oh, surely thou hast known This truth too long to look so like Despair!

Mar. O, no, no, no-a hope-a little hopeI had erewhile-but I have heard its knell. Oh, would my life were measured out with thine— All my years numbered-all my days, my hours, My utmost minutes, all summed up with thine! Guido. Marina

Mar.

Let me weep-no, let me kneel To God-but rather thee,-to spare this end That is so wilful. Oh, for pity's sake!

Pluck back thy precious spirit from these clouds That smother it with death. Oh! turn from death, And do not woo it with such dark resolve,

To make me widowed.

Guido.

I have lived my term.

Mar. No-not thy term-no, not the natural

term

Of one so young. Oh! thou hast spent thy years In sinful waste upon unholy

Guido.

Marina.

Hush!