網頁圖片
PDF
ePub 版

To whose cleared sight the night is turned to day,
And that but changing life, miscalled decay?

Is it not glorious, then, from thy own heart
To pour a stream of life?-to make a part
With thy eternal spirit things that rot,-
That, looked on for a moment, are forgot,
But to thy opening vision pass to take
New forms of life, and in new beauties wake?

To thee the falling leaf but fades to bear
Its hues and odors to some fresher air;
Some passing sound floats by to yonder sphere,
That softly answers to thy listening ear.
In one eternal round they go and come;

And where they travel, there hast thou a home
For thy far-reaching thoughts.-O, Power Divine,
Has this poor worm a spirit so like thine?
Unwrap its folds, and clear its wings to go!
Would I could quit earth, sin, and care, and wo!
Nay, rather let me use the world aright:

Thus make me ready for my upward flight.

A Demon's false Description of his Race of fallen Intelli. gences. A Scene from Hadad.-HILLHOUSE.

Tamar. I SHUDDER,

Lest some dark Minister be near us now.

Hadad. You wrong them. They are bright Intelligences, Robbed of some native splendor, and cast down,

'Tis true, from heaven; but not deformed, and foul,

Revengeful, malice-working fiends, as fools

Suppose. They dwell, like princes, in the clouds;

Sun their bright pinions in the middle sky;

Or arch their palaces beneath the hills,

With stones inestimable studded so,

That sun or stars were useless there.

Tam. Good heavens !

Had. He bade me look on rugged Caucasus,
Crag piled on crag beyond the utmost ken,
Naked, and wild, as if creation's ruins
Were heaped in one immeasurable chain
Of barren mountains, beaten by the storms

Of everlasting winter. But within
Are glorious palaces, and domes of light,
Irradiate halls, and crystal colonnades,

Vaults set with gems, the purchase of a crown.
Blazing with lustre past the noon-tide beam,
Or, with a milder beauty, mimicking
The mystic signs of changeful Mazzaroth.
Tam. Unheard of splendor!

Had. There they well, and muse,

And wander; Beings beautiful, immortal,
Minds vast as heaven, capacious as the sky,

Whose thoughts connect past, present, and to come,
And glow with light intense, imperishable.

Thus, in the sparry chambers of the sea

And air-pavilions, rainbow tabernacles,
They study Nature's secrets, and enjoy
No poor dominion.

Tam. Are they beautiful,

And powerful far beyond the human race?

Had. Man's feeble heart cannot conceive it. When

The sage described them, fiery eloquence

Flowed from his lips, his bosom heaved, his eyes

Grew bright and mystical; moved by the theme,

Like one who feels a deity within.

Tum. Wondrous!-What intercourse have they with men ! Had. Sometimes they deign to intermix with man,

But oft with woman.

Tam. Hah! with woman?

Had. She

Attracts them with her gentler virtues, soft,

And beautiful, and heavenly, like themselves.

They have been known to love her with a passion

Stronger than human.

Tam. That surpasses all

You yet have told me.

Had. This the sage affirms;

And Moses, darkly.

Tam. How do they appear?

How manifest their love?

Had. Sometimes 'tis spiritual, signified

By beatific dreams, or more distinct

And glorious apparition.-They have stooped
To animate a human form, and love
Like mortals,

Tam. Frightful to be so beloved!

Who could endure the horrid thought!-What makes
Thy cold hand tremble? or is't mine

That feels so deathy?

Had. Dark imaginations haunt me

When I recall the dreadful interview.

Tam. O, tell them not--I would not hear them. Had. But why contemn a Spirit's love? so high, So glorious, if he haply deigned ?—

Tam. Forswear

My Maker! love a Demon!

Had. No-0, no

My thoughts but wandered-Oft, alas! they wander.
Tam. Why dost thou speak so sadly now?-and lo!
Thine eyes are fixed again upon Arcturus.

Thus ever, when thy drooping spirits ebb,
Thou gazest on that star. Hath it the power

To cause or cure thy melancholy mood?

[He appears lost in thought.} Tell me, ascrib'st thou influence to the stars?

Had. (starting.) The stars! What know'st thou of the

stars?

Tam. I know that they were made to rule the night. Had. Like palace lamps! thou echoest well thy grandsire. Woman! the stars are living, glorious,

Amazing, infinite!

Tam. Speak not so wildly.

I know them numberless, resplendent, set
As symbols of the countless, countless years
That make eternity.

Had. Eternity!

Oh! mighty, glorious, miserable thought!—
Had ye endured like those great sufferers,
Like them, seen ages, myriad ages roll;
Could ye but look into the void abyss

With eyes experienced, unobscured by torments,—
Then mightst thou name it, name it feelingly.

Tam. What ails thee, Hadad?-Draw me not so close. Had. Tamar! I need thy love-more than thy loveTam. Thy cheek is wet with tears-Nay, let us part— 'Tis late-I cannot, must not linger.

[Breaks from him, and exit.] Had. Loved and abhorred!-Still, still accursed![He paces, twice or thrice, up and down, with passionate gestures; then turns his face to the sky, and stands a moment in silence ]

In the illimitable space, in what

-Oh! where,

Profound of untried misery, when all

His worlds, his rolling orbs of light, that fill

With life and beauty yonder infinite,

Their radiant journey run, for ever set,

Where, where, in what abyss shall I be groaning?

[Exit.]

Hadad's Description of the City of David.-HILLHOUSE.

"TIS so;-the hoary harper sings aright;

How beautiful is Zion!-Like a queen,
Armed with a helm in virgin loveliness,
Her heaving bosom in a bossy cuirass,
She sits aloft, begirt with battlements
And bulwarks swelling from the rock, to guard
The sacred courts, pavilions, palaces,

Soft gleaming through the umbrage of the woods,
Which tuft her summit, and, like raven tresses,
Wave their dark beauty round the tower of David.
Resplendent with a thousand golden bucklers,
The embrazures of alabaster shine;

Hailed by the pilgrims of the desert, bound
To Judah's mart with orient merchandise.
But not, for thou art fair and turret-crowned,
Wet with the choicest dew of heaven, and blessed
With golden fruits, and gales of frankincense,
Dwell I beneath thine ample curtains. Here,
Where saints and prophets teach, where the stern law
Still speaks in thunder, where chief angels watch,
And where the Glory hovers, here I war.

The Song at Twilight.-LUCREtia Maria DaVIDSON.*
WHEN evening spreads her shades around,
And darkness fills the arch of heaven;

When not a murmur, not a sound,

To Fancy's sportive ear is given;

The remains and a biographical sketch of this remarkable girl were published last year by Mr. Samuel F. B. Morse. An interesting review of the volume appeared soon after in the London Quarterly: we are not

When the broad orb of heaven is bright,
And looks around with golden eye;
When Nature, softened by her light,
Seems calmly, solemnly to lie ;—

Then, when our thoughts are raised above
This world, and all this world can give,
O, sister, sing the song I love,

And tears of gratitude receive.

The song which thrills my bosom's core,
And, hovering, trembles half afraid,
O, sister, sing the song once more

Which ne'er for mortal ear was made.

"Twere almost sacrilege to sing

Those notes amid the glare of day;
Notes borne by angels' purest wing,
And wafted by their breath away.

When, sleeping in my grass-grown bed,
Shouldst thou still linger here above,
Wilt thou not kneel beside my head,

And, sister, sing the song I love?

aware that it has been noticed in any periodical in this country. Southey has rendered himself distinguished for his attention to youthful genius. Except the cases of Chatterton and Henry Kirke White, he thinks there is no instance on record of "so early, so ardent, and so fatal a pursuit of intellectual advancement," as is exhibited in the history of this young lady. "In these poems, there is enough of originality, enough of aspiration, enough of conscious energy, enough of growing power, to warrant any expectations, however sanguine, which the patron, and the friends and parents of the deceased, could have formed; nor can any person rise from the perusal of such a volume without feeling the vanity of human hopes."

"She was peculiarly sensitive to music. There was one song (it was Moore's Farewell to his Harp) to which she took a special fancy; she wished to hear it only at twilight; thus, with that same perilous love of excitement which made her place the windharp in the window when she was composing, seeking to increase the effect which the song produced upon a nervous system, already diseasedly susceptible; for it is said, that, whenever she heard this song, she became cold, pale, and almost fainting; yet it was her favorite of all songs, and gave occasion to these verses, addressed, in her fifteenth year, to her sister.

"To young readers it might be useful to observe, that these verses, in one place, approach the verge of meaning, but are on the wrong side of the line: to none can it be necessary to say, that they breathe the deep feeling of a mind essentially poetical." The piece here referred to, is that extracted above. ED.

« 上一頁繼續 »