ANTIGONE.

Paraphrased from Eurip. Phoem. vss. 163-172.

Yes, yes, I do; I look for him
Beside the maiden's grave-'tis he!

But ah! it is so faint and dim,
The happy sight that I would see,
I think 'tis fancy that doth limn
His form, his shield, his blazonry,
And, though it be a semblance bright,
I cannot gaze on him aright.

Oh! that I

Could leap and fly,

That I could haste

Like a cloudlet chased

By a summer wind through a summer sky,
And round the neck of my mother's child
I'd fling my arms so wild, so wild,
And weep in that exiled brother's embrace,
And hang on that unforgotten face.
Look up, old man! and soothly say

His beauty is like the breaking day,

And the glance that darts from that kindling eye,
Outshineth his golden panoply.

Man, that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of

My life was like a gloomy day
Lit by a wintry sun;

The fleeting brilliance fled away,
Ere it had well begun,

And left a darker, drearier night
For the brief gleam of passing light.

All my fierce passions sunk to rest
Beneath thy dove-like eyes;
And pillowed on thy gentle breast,
They strove in vain to rise ;

I voyaged on a summer sea
With thy soft hand to pilot me.

The dark sad youth thou didst not spurn,
Nor freeze his love with pride;

But when thou braved'st withering scorn,
To bind thee to my side,
No mortal language dare express

My spirit's utter happiness.

Nought had gone well with me before,

All smiled upon me now;

With fair winds down life's stream we bore
Together, I and thou.

It was a dream too bright to last;
I woke and it was overpast.

They say when thou wert lying dead,
I scarcely breathed a sigh ;

I spoke no word—no tears I shed—
As though their springs were dry.

I cannot tell, I only know

I saw not, heard not, for my woe.

Dim and confused seemed all things round,
As in distempered sleep,

When mens' eyes, though their sense is bound,
A ghastly lustre keep;

Only it seemed the passing bell

Crushed

my bruised heart beneath each knell.

The funeral past, in order meet,

Uprose that wondrous prayer;
My body filled the mourner's seat,
My spirit was not there;

Thy form half seen before me hung,
Thy sweet low tones around me rung.

The trance passed by, and I awoke,
And knew that thou wert gone;
The solemn truth upon me broke
That I was here alone.

Then gushing tears poured down my cheek,
I wept as though my heart would break.

The sullen cloud dissolved in rain;

The hard parched earth was wet;
I changed that dull and stunning pain
For chastened meek regret ;
And now I love this church-yard shade,
Where all my earthly joys are laid.

This gnarled cedar's branches wave
With a mild warning tone;
That red-breast carols on the grave
With music not its own;

The fleecy clouds, the sunny air,
An eloquent beauty seem to wear.

They bid me not to pour my grief,

As though no hope were mine, But with the mourner's cypress leaf

Some brighter flowers to twine; For here from death and dank decay Life blossoms beautiful and gay.

So thou art passed the veil within,
I yet without remain

To strive against my load of sin
With toil and earnest pain,

If haply it may yet be given.

To join thee once again in heaven.

THE VIGIL OF COLUMBUS.

.

The homeless guest of Rabida
Watcheth all night long,

On the silent chapel-floor,
Bending, bending, evermore,
Thinking of all the wrong
Done him by the friends that fail,
By the sorry souls that ail

Of sloth and fear,

By the puny mindlings taught
Just to take in half a thought,

By the smiles that fade away,

By the patrons insincere,

Who have duped him with delay,

Year after year.

Poor-weak-and old before his time,

Panting all the while

To draw his breath beneath the clime
Of that Hesperian isle ;

He hath toiled so long, that now,

Hope and fancy 'gin to rust;

His heart is weary of its vow,

And all but learning to distrust.

2.

Oh! but how can faith give in,
How can courage falter,
If he prays at midnight still,

Where the shadows bar out sin,

And guards his soul from thoughts of ill Beneath the moon-lit altar?

Oh! his care is broken,

Holy spells come o'er him ;

In a dream he boweth low,
And quick visions come and go;
On his soothed senses float
Many a sweet and cheerful note,
Greetings from the heirs of Time,
Young heroic voices chime,

Forms of heroes run before him,
And thus the words were spoken;
"Throw not the world away,
Boldest man and truest!

Till we and they shall dare assay,
The hope that thou ensuest.

3.

Hold by thy great endeavour,

Fearless now and ever,