On A Squinting Poetess.

The dawning of morn, the daylight's sinking,
The night's long hours still find me thinking
        Of thee, thee, only thee.
When friends are met, and goblets crowned,
    And smiles are near, that once enchanted,
Unreached by all that sunshine round,
    My soul, like some dark spot, is haunted
        By thee, thee, only thee.

Whatever in fame's high path could waken
My spirit once, is now forsaken
        For thee, thee, only thee.
Like shores, by which some headlong bark
    To the ocean hurries, resting never,
Life's scenes go by me, bright or dark,
    I know not, heed not, hastening ever
        To thee, thee, only thee.

I have not a joy but of thy bringing,
And pain itself seems sweet when springing
        From thee, thee, only t...

Keep those eyes still purely mine,
    Tho' far off I be:
When on others most they shine,
    Then think they're turned on me.

Should those lips as now respond
    To sweet minstrelsy,
When their accents seem most fond,
    Then think they're breathed for me.

Make what hearts thou wilt thy own,
    If when all on thee
Fix their charmed thoughts alone,
    Thou think'st the while on me.

No wonder bards, both high and low,
    From Byron down to ***** and me,
Should seek the fame which all bestow
    On him whose task is praising thee.

Let but the theme be Jersey's eyes,
    At once all errors are forgiven;
As even old Sternhold still we prize,
    Because, tho' dull, he sings of heaven.

I sat in the Muses' Hall at the mid of the day,
And it seemed to grow still, and the people to pass away,
And the chiselled shapes to combine in a haze of sun,
Till beside a Carrara column there gleamed forth One.

She was nor this nor that of those beings divine,
But each and the whole - an essence of all the Nine;
With tentative foot she neared to my halting-place,
A pensive smile on her sweet, small, marvellous face.

"Regarded so long, we render thee sad?" said she.
"Not you," sighed I, "but my own inconstancy!
I worship each and each; in the morning one,
And then, alas! another at sink of sun.

"To-day my soul clasps Form; but where is my troth
Of yesternight with Tune: can one cleave to both?"
- "Be not perturbed," said she. "Though apart in fame,

If life for me hath joy or light,
        'Tis all from thee,
My thoughts by day, my dreams by night,
        Are but of thee, of only thee.
Whate'er of hope or peace I know,
My zest in joy, my balm in woe,
To those dear eyes of thine I owe,
        'Tis all from thee.

My heart, even ere I saw those eyes,
        Seemed doomed to thee;
Kept pure till then from other ties,
        'Twas all for thee, for only thee.
Like plants that sleep till sunny May
Calls forth their life my spirit lay,
Till, touched by Love's awakening ray,
        It lived for thee, it lived for thee.

When Fame would call me to her heights,
        She speaks by thee;
And dim would shine her proudest lights,
        Unshared by thee, unshared by thee.
Whene'...

[1]

(WRITTEN MAY, 1832.)


All, as he left it!--even the pen,
    So lately at that mind's command,
Carelessly lying, as if then
    Just fallen from his gifted hand.

Have we then lost him? scarce an hour,
    A little hour, seems to have past,
Since Life and Inspiration's power
    Around that relic breathed their last.

Ah, powerless now--like talisman
    Found in some vanished wizard's halls,
Whose mighty charm with him began,
    Whose charm with him extinguisht falls.

Yet, tho', alas! the gifts that shone
    Around that pen's exploring track,
Be now, with its great master, gone,
    Nor living hand can call them back;

Who does not feel, while thus his eyes
    Rest on the enchanter's broke...