Sun-ripen'd give their blushes up to God; And mountain-rocks and cloudy steeps are riv'n By founts of fire, as smitten by the rod Of heavenly Moses,-that your thirsty sense May quench its longings of magnificence !

XX.

"Yet suns shall perish--stars shall fade awayDay into darkness-darkness into death

Death into silence; the warm light of day,

The blooms of summer, the rich glowing breath Of even—all shall wither and decay,

Like the frail furniture of dreams beneath The touch of morn-or bubbles of rich dyes That break and vanish in the aching eyes."

XXI.

They hear, soul-blushing, and repentant shed Unwholesome thoughts in wholesome tears, and

pour

Their sin to earth,-and with low drooping head
Receive the solemn blessing, and implore
Its grace-then soberly with chasten'd tread,
They meekly press towards the gusty door,
With humbled eyes that go to graze upon
The lowly grass-like him of Babylon.

XXII.

The lowly grass !-O water-constant mind!
Fast-ebbing holiness!-soon-fading grace

Of serious thought, as if the gushing wind

Through the low porch had wash'd it from the face For ever!-How they lift their eyes to find

Old vanities!-Pride wins the very place Of meekness, like a bird, and flutters now With idle wings on the curl-conscious brow!

XXIII.

And lo! with eager looks they seek the way
Of old temptation at the lowly gate;

To feast on feathers, and on vain array,

And painted cheeks, and the rich glistering state Of jewel-sprinkled locks.—But where are they, The graceless haughty ones that used to wait With lofty neck, and nods, and stiffen'd eye?None challenge the old homage bending by.

XXIV.

In vain they look for the ungracious bloom
Of rich apparel where it glow'd before,—
For Vanity has faded all to gloom,

And lofty Pride has stiffen'd to the core,
For impious Life to tremble at its doom,-
Set for a warning token evermore,
Whereon, as now, the giddy and the wise
Shall gaze with lifted hands and wond'ring eyes.

XXV.

The aged priest goes on each sabbath morn,

But shakes not sorrow under his gray hair;

The solemn clerk goes lavender'd and shorn,

Nor stoops his back to the ungodly pair;And ancient lips that pucker'd up in scorn, Go smoothly breathing to the house of pray'r; And in the garden-plot, from day to day, The lily blooms its long white life away.

XXVI.

And where two haughty maidens used to be, In pride of plume, where plumy Death had trod,

Trailing their gorgeous velvets wantonly,

Most unmeet pall, over the holy sod ;

There, gentle stranger, thou may'st only see
Two sombre Peacocks.-

nod

Age, with sapient

Marking the spot, still tarries to declare

How they once lived, and wherefore they are

there.

VOL. I.

THE TWO SWANS.

A FAIRY TALE.

I.

IMMORTAL Imogen, crown'd queen above
The lilies of thy sex, vouchsafe to hear
A fairy dream in honour of true love—
True above ills, and frailty, and all fear—
Perchance a shadow of his own career

Whose youth was darkly prison'd and long twined

By serpent-sorrow, till white Love drew near, And sweetly sang him free, and round his mind A bright horizon threw, wherein no grief may wind.

II.

I saw a tower builded on a lake,

Mock'd by its inverse shadow, dark and deep-
That seem'd a still intenser night to make,
Wherein the quiet waters sunk to sleep,-
And, whatso'er was prison'd in that keep,
A monstrous Snake was warden:-round and
round

In sable ringlets I beheld him creep

Blackest amid black shadows to the ground, Whilst his enormous head the topmost turret crown'd.

III.

From whence he shot fierce light against the

stars,

Making the pale moon paler with affright; And with his ruby eye out-threaten'd Mars— That blazed in the mid-heavens, hot and bright

Nor slept, nor wink'd, but with a steadfast spite Watch'd their wan looks and tremblings in the

skies;

And that he might not slumber in the night, The curtain-lids were pluck'd from his large

eyes,

So he might never drowse, but watch his secret

prize.

IV.

Prince or princess in dismal durance pent, Victims of old Enchantment's love or hate, Their lives must all in painful sighs be spent, Watching the lonely waters soon and late, And clouds that pass and leave them to their fate,

Or company their grief with heavy tears :— Meanwhile that Hope can spy no golden gate For sweet escapement, but in darksome fears They weep and pine away as if immortal years.