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Thus joy, o'erborne and bound, doth still release young limbs from the chains that round him press.


Weep not that the world changes-did it keep A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed

to weep.


YET one smile more, departing, distant sun! One mellow smile through the soft vapory air, Ere, o'er the frozen earth, the loud winds run, Or snows are sifted o'er the meadows bare. One smile on the brown hills and naked trees, And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are cast,

And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last, Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee

Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the


The cricket chirp upon the russet lea,

And man delight to linger in thy ray. Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear The piercing winter frost, and winds, and darkened air.


I BUCKLE to my slender side

The pistol and the scimitar,
And in my maiden flower and pride

Am come to share the tasks of war.

And yonder stands my fiery steed,

That paws the ground and neighs to go, My charger of the Arab breed,—

I took him from the routed foe.

My mirror is the mountain spring,

At which I dress my ruffled hair;

My dimmed and dusty arms I bring,
And wash away the blood-stain there.
Why should I guard from wind and sun
This cheek, whose virgin rose is fled?
It was for one-oh, only one-

I kept its bloom, and he is dead.

But they who slew him—unaware
Of coward murderers lurking nigh-
And left him to the fowls of air,

Are yet alive-and they must die. They slew him—and my virgin years

Are vowed to Greece and vengeance now, And many an Othman dame in tears, Shall rue the Grecian maiden's vow.

I touched the lute in better days,
I led in dance the joyous band;
Ah! they may move to mirthful lays
Whose hands can touch a lover's hand.

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