FAIRY-LAND. I. DIM vales-and shadowy floods- Whose forms we can't discover For the tears that drip all over Huge moons there wax and wane — Every moment of the night— Forever changing places— And they put out the star-light With the breath from their pale faces. About twelve by the moon-dial. One more filmy than the rest (A kind which, upon trial, They have found to be the best) Comes down-still down-and down With its centre on the crown Of a mountain's eminence, While its wide circumference In easy drapery falls Over hamlets, over halls, Wherever they may be - O'er the strange woods-o'er the sea Over spirits on the wing— Over every drowsy thing — With the tempests as they toss, Like almost any thing — Or a yellow Albatross. They use that moon no more For the same end as before Videlicet a tent Which I think extravagant: Its atomies, however, Into a shower dissever, Of which those butterflies, Of Earth, who seek the skies, SONG. I. I SAW thee on thy bridal day- The world all love before thee: II. And in thine eye a kindling light (Whatever it might be) Was all on Earth my aching sight Of Loveliness could see. III. That blush, perhaps, was maiden shame. As such it well may pass- In the breast of him, alas! IV. Who saw thee on that bridal day, When that deep blush would come o'er thee, Though happiness around thee lay, The world all love before thee. TO M. L. S.. I. Or all who hail thy presence as the morning- Of all who, on Despair's unhallow'd bed At thy soft-murmur'd words, "Let there be light!" In the seraphic glancing of thine eyes- And think that these weak lines are written by him- TO HELEN. HELEN, thy beauty is to me On desperate seas long wont to roam, Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand, The agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy-Land! London-Printed by G. BARCLAY, Castle St. Leicester Sq. |