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The waters broke my hollow trance,
My stiffen'd limbs were rebaptized.
A haven I but little prized, For all behind was dark and drear, And all before was night and fear. How many hours of night or day In those suspended pangs I lay, I could not tell; I scarcely knew If this were human breath I drew. “With glossy skin, and dripping mane,
And reeling limbs, and reeking flank, The wild steed's sinewy nerves still strain
Up the repelling bank. We gain the top: a boundless plain Spreads through the shadow of the night, And onward, onward, onward, seems
Like precipices in our dreams, To stretch beyond the sight."
When coldness wraps this suffering clay,
Ah, whither strays the immortal mind? It cannot die, it cannot stay,
But leaves its darken'd dust behind; Then, unembodied, doth it trace
By steps each planet's heavenly way? Or fill at once the realms of space,
A thing of eyes, that all survey? Eternal, boundless, undecay'd,
A thought unseen, but seeing all,
Shall it survey, shall it recall :
So darkly of departed years,
And all that was, at once appears.
Its eye shall roll through chaos back; And where the furthest heaven had birth,
The spirit trace its rising track.
Its glance dilate o'er all to be,
Fix'd in its own eternity.
It lives all passionless and pure:
shall feet like earthly year; Its years as moments shall endure. Away, away, without a wing,
O'er all, through all, its thoughts shall fly, A nameless and eternal thing,
Forgetting what it was to die.
When all around grew drear and dark,
And reason half withheld her rayAnd hope but shed a dying spark
Which more misled my lonely way;
In that deep midnight of the mind,
And that internal strife of heart, When, dreading to be deemd too kind,
The weak despair-the cold depart; When fortune changed—and love fled far,
And hatred's shafts flew thick and fast, Thou wert the solitary star
Which rose and set not to the last.
Oh! blest be thine unbroken light!
That watch'd me as a seraph's eye, And stood between me and the night,
For ever shining sweetly nigh. And when the cloud upon us came,
Which strove to blacken o'er thy rayThen purer spread its gentle flame,
And dash'd the darkness all away. Still may thy spirit dwell on mine,
And teach it what to brave or brookThere's more in one soft word of thine,
Than in the world's defied rebuke. Thou stood'st, as stands a lovely tree,
That still unbroke, though gently bent, Still waves with fond fidelity
Its boughs above a monument. The winds might rend—the skies might pour
But there thou wert-and still wouldst be Devoted in the stormiest hour
To shed thy weeping leaves o'er me. But thou and thine shall know no blight,
Whatever fate on me may fall; For heaven in sunshine will requite
The kind—and thee the most of all.
Then let the ties of baffled love
Be broken-thine will never break; Thy heart can feel—but will not move;
Thy soul, though soft, will never shake. And these, when all was lost beside,
Were found, and still are fix'd, in theeAnd bearing still a breast so tried,
Earth is no desert-even to me.
ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN.
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean-roll!
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell’d, uncoffin'd, and unknown.
His steps are not upon thy paths—thy fields
His petty hope in some near port or bay,
The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar
Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee-
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow-
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
The image of eternity-the throne
The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alune.
From Childe Harold.
ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.
Hark! forth from the abyss a voice proceeds,
And pale, but lovely, with maternal grief
Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou?
The present happiness and promised joy
Peasants bring forth in safety.-Can it be,
And desolate consort—vainly wert thou wed;
Of sackcloth was thy wedding garment made;