IX.

And I have heard thee, when December's snow
Mantled with chilling white the moonless vales,
Thro' the drear darkness, wandering to and fro,
And mingling with the sharp and sighing gales
Thy wizard note-when Nature's prostrate form,
In desolation sad, lay buried in the storm.

X.

It is a sound most solemn, strange, and lone,
That wildly talks of something far remote
Amid the past-of something dimly known-
Of Time's primeval voice, a parted note—
The echo of Antiquity-the cry

Of Ruin, fluttering o'er some Greatness doom'd to die.

XI.

So parted from communion with mankind,
So sever'd from all life, and living sound,
Calmly the solemnised and soften'd mind

Sinks down, and dwells, in solemn thought profound,
On dreams of yore, on visions swept away-
The loves and friendships warm of being's early day.

XII.

Lov'st Thou, when storms are dark, and rains come down, When wild winds round lone dwellings moan and sigh, And Night is hooded in its gloomiest frown,

To mingle with the tempest thy shrill cry, To pierce the rolling thunder-clouds, and brook The scythe-wing'd lightning's glare with fierce unshrinking look?

XIII.

Most lonely voice! most wild unbodied scream!
Aye haunting thus the sylvan wilderness,
Thou tellest man that life is but a dream,
Romantic as the tones of thy distress,

Leaving on earth no lingering trace behind,
And melting as thou meltest on the trackless wind.

XIV.

Faint come the notes: Thou meltest distant far,
Scarce heard at intervals upon the night,
Leaving to loneliness each listening star,

The trees, the river, and the moonshine bright; And, 'mid this stirless hush, this still of death, Heard is my bosoms' throb, and audible my breath.

XV.

Thus wane the noonday dreams of Youth away,
And twilight hues the path of Life pervade ;
Thus, like the western sunlight, ray by ray,
Into the darkness of old age we fade;

While of our early friends the memories seem
Half lost in bygone years, like fragments of a dream.

XVI.

Lo! 'mid the future dim, remote or near,
Lurks in the womb of Time a final day,
When shuddering Earth a trumpet voice shall hear,
And ruin seize the Universe for prey;

And Silence, as the pulse of Nature stills,

In viewless robe, shall sit enthroned on smoking hills.

STARLIGHT REFLECTIONS.

On this

grey

I,

column-overthrown

By giant Time's unsparing hand,

Where lichens spring and moss is strown
Along the desert land-

Resting alone, I fix mine eye,

With feelings of sublime delight,

On June's resplendent galaxy,

The studded arch of night.

How awful is the might of Him

Who stretch'd the skies from pole to pole! And breathed, through chaos waste and dim, Creation's living soul !

A thousand worlds are glowing round,

And thousands more than sight can trace Revolve throughout the vast profound,

And fill the realms of space :

Then what is man? It ill befits

That such should hear or heed the prayer

Lip-mockery of the worm that sits

Within the scorner's chair!

II.

There are no clouds to checker night;
The winds are hush'd, the skies serene;
The landscape, outlined darkly bright,
Is still distinctly seen:

Remotest Ocean's tongue is heard
Declaiming to his island shores;
And wails the lonely water-bird
From yonder marshy moors.
This is the realm of solitude;

A season and a scene for thought,
When Melancholy well may brood
On years, that now are not-

On syren years, whose witchery smiled,

Ere time had leagued the heart with strife—

The Eden of this earthly wild

The paradise of life.

They feign, who tell us wealth can strike

In to the thornless paths of bliss ; Alas! its best is, Judas-like,

To sell us with a kiss.

III.

Ambition is a gilded toy,

A baited hook, a trap of guile ;

Alluring only to destroy,

And mocking with a smile.

Alas! for what hath youth exchanged

The garden of its vernal prime?