"Tis Mercy bids thee go.

For thou ten thousand thousand years
Hast seen the tide of human tears,
That shall no longer flow.

What though beneath thee man put forth His pomp, his pride, his skill;

And arts that made fire, flood and earth,
The vassals of his will ;-

Yet mourn I not thy parted sway,
Thou dim discrowned king of day'
For all these trophied arts

And triumphs that beneath thee sprang,
Heal'd not a passion or a pang

Entail'd on human hearts.

Go, let oblivion's curtain fall
Upon the stage of men,
Nor with thy rising beams recall

Life's tragedy again.

Its piteous pageants bring not back,
Nor waken flesh, upon the rack
Of pain anew to writhe;

Stretch'd in disease's shapes abhorr'd
Or mown in battle by the sword,
Like grass beneath the scythe

Ev'n I am weary in yon skies
To watch thy fading fire;
Test of all sumless agonies,
Behold not me expire.

My lips that speak thy dirge of death-
Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath
To see thou shalt not boast.

The eclipse of Nature spreads my pall,— The majesty of Darkness shall

Receive my parting ghost!

This spirit shall return to Him
Who gave its heavenly spark;
Yet think not, Sun, it shall be dim
When thou thyself art dark!
No! it shall live again, and shine
In bliss unknown to beams of thine,
By Him recall'd to breath,
Who captive led captivity,
Who robb'd the grave of Victory,—
And took the sting from Death!

Go, Sun, while Mercy holds me up
On Nature's awful waste

To drink this last and bitter cup

Of grief that man shall tasteGo, tell the night that hides thy face, Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race, On Earth's sepulchral clod, The darkening universe defy To quench his Immortality, Or shake his trust in God!

A DREAM.

WELL may sleep present us fictions, Since our waking moments teem

With such fanciful convictions

As make life itself a dream.Half our daylight faith's a fable; Sleep disports with shadows too, Seeming in their turn as stable

As the world we wake to view. Ne'er by day did Reason's mint

Give my thoughts a clearer print
Of assured reality,

Than was left by Phantasy
Stamp'd and color'd on my sprite,
In a dream of yesternight.

In a bark, methought, lone steering,
I was cast on Ocean's strife;
This, 'twas whisper'd in my hearing,
Meant the sea of life.

Sad regrets from past existence

Came, like gales of chilling breath;
Shadow'd in the forward distance
Lay the land of Death.

Now seeming more, now less remote,
On that dim-seen shore, methought,
I beheld two hands a space
Slow unshroud a spectre's face;
And my flesh's hair upstood,-
'Twas mine own similitude.-

But my soul revived at seeing
Ocean, like an emerald spark,
Kindle, while an air-dropp'd being
Smiling steer'd my bark.
Heaven-like-yet he look'd as human

As supernal beauty can,
More compassionate than woman,
Lordly more than man.

And as some sweet clarion's breath
Stirs the soldier's scorn of death-

So his accents bade me brook
The spectre's eyes of icy look,
Till it shut them-turn'd its head,
Like a beaten foe, and fled.

"Types not this," I said, "fair spirit!

Tat my death-hour is not come?

Say, what days shall I inherit?—
Tell my soul their sum."

"No," he said, "yon phantom's aspect, Trust me, would appal thee worse,

Held in clearly measured prospect:—
Ask not for a curse!

Make not, for I overhear

Thine unspoken thoughts as clear
As thy mortal ear could catch

The close-brought tickings of a watch-
Make not the untold request

That's now revolving in thy breast.

'Tis to live again, remeasuring

Youth's years, like a scene rehearsed, In thy second lifetime treasuring Knowledge from the first.

Hast thou felt, poor self-deceiver !
Life's career so void of pain,

As to wish its fitful fever
New begun again?

Could experience, ten times thine,
Pain from Being disentwine-
Threads by Fate together spun?

Could thy flight Heaven's lightning shun!
No, nor could thy foresight's glance

'Scape the myriad shafts of Chance.

Wouldst thou bear again Love's trouble

Friendship's death-dissever'd ties;

Toil to grasp or miss the bubble

Of Ambition's prize?

Say thy life's new guided action

Flow'd from Virtue's fairest springs

Still would Envy and Detraction

Double not their stings?

Worth itself is but a charter

To be mankind's distinguish'd martyr"

-I caught the moral, and cried, "Hail!
Spirit! let us onward sail

Envying, fearing, hating none—

Guardian Spirit, steer me on!"

VALEDICTORY STANZAS

ΤΟ

J. P. KEMBLE, ESQ.

COMPOSED FOR A PUBLIC MEETING HELD JUNE, 1817

PRIDE of the British stage,

A long and last adieu!

Whose image brought th' heroic age

Revived to Fancy's view.

Like fields refresh'd with dewy light

When the sun smiles his last,

Thy parting presence makes more bright

Our memory of the past;

And memory conjures feelings up

That wine or music need not swell,

As high we lift the festal cup

To Kemble-fare thee well!

His was the spell o'er hearts
Which only Acting lends,—
The youngest of the sister Arts,
Where all their beauty blends:
For ill can Poetry express

Full many a tone of thought sublime,