192 He gave the bridle-reins a shake, My Love! And adieu for evermore." Sir W. Scott CXCV THE FLIGHT OF LOVE When the lamp is shatter'd Sweet tones are remember'd not; As music and splendour Survive not the lamp and the lute, No song when the spirit is mute- Like the wind through a ruin'd cell, That ring the dead seaman's knell. When hearts have once mingled, To endure what it once possesst. O Love! who bewailest The frailty of all things here, Why choose you the frailest For your cradle, your home, and your bier ? Its passions will rock thee As the storms rock the ravens on high; Bright reason will mock thee Like the sun from a wintry sky. From thy nest every rafter When leaves fall and cold winds come. P. B. Shelley CXCVI THE MAID OF NEIDPATH O lovers' eyes are sharp to see, Can lend an hour of cheering. All sunk and dim her eyes so bright, Across her cheek was flying; By fits so ashy pale she grew Her maidens thought her dying. Yet keenest powers to see and hear Ere scarce a distant form was kenn'd He came he pass'd-an heedless gaze O The castle-arch, whose hollow tone Sir W. Scott CXCVII THE MAID OF NEIDPATH Earl March look'd on his dying child, She's at the window many an hour But ah! so pale, he knew her not, Though her smile on him was dwellingAnd am I then forgot-forgot? It broke the heart of Ellen. In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs, Her cheek is cold as ashes; Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes T. Campbell CXCVIII Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art— The moving waters at their priestlike task Of snow upon the mountains and the moors : No-yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, J. Keats CXCIX THE TERROR OF DEATH When I have fears that I may cease to be When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, CC DESIDERIA Surprized by joy-impatient as the wind- Love, faithful love recall'd thee to my mind- Have I been so beguiled as to be blind To my most grievous loss ?—That thought's return CCI At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye; And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there And tell me our love is remember'd, even in the sky! Then I sing the wild song it once was rapture to hear When our voices, commingling, breathed like one on And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls, I think, O my Love! 'tis thy voice, from the Kingdom of Souls Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear. CCII T. Moore ELEGY ON THYRZA And thou art dead, as young and fair And forms so soft and charms so rare |