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His head upon a stone reclined,
And as he poured his parting breath, Methought the living spark enshrined, Was triumphing in death..
A few faint beams of living light
And pointing to his home afar :-
There stood a hue of heavenly birth;
And then his eye grew proudly bright,
Now Father, for the chariot, now,-
My Father's house-my spirit's domeBurst, burst your bonds-the soul is freed, Rise to your Eden home!'
The mist is on the mountain,
The dew is on the flower,
Now deeper down doth lower!
For day, with all its loveliness,
The stars are in the heaven sown,
The moon is brightly beaming on
Our favourite bower and me;
Our trysted hour long since hath rung
To hail the twilight hour;
Why tarries she so late?
A step is on the yielding grass,
And ah! the flowers that feel her pass,
Rise brighter to the view;
'Tis she herself who treads the grove,
THE PAINS OF SLEEP.
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay,
No wish conceived, no thought expressed!
Only a sense of supplication,
A sense o'er all my soul imprest
But yester-night I prayed aloud,
Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me, A lurid light, a trampling throng,
Sense of intolerable wrong,
And whom I scorned, those only strong!
Thirst of revenge, the powerless will
Fantastic passions! maddening brawl!
So two nights passed: the night's dismay Saddened and stunned the coming day. Sleep, the wide blessing seemed to me Distemper's worst calamity.
The third night, when my own loud scream
And having thus by tears subdued