Love farewell! After soft showers, Spring-buds swell, Into fair flowers Bright o'er passing storm-clouds bending, Rainbow hues are richly blending! Love farewell! After soft showers, Spring-buds swell, Into fair flowers. THE TWO FOUNTS. STANZAS ADDRESSED TO A LADY ON HER RECOVERY, WITH UNBLEMISHED LOOKS, FROM A SEVERE ATTACK OF PAIN. By S. T. Coleridge, Esq. 'Twas my last waking thought, How can it be, That thou, sweet friend, such anguish should'st endure? When strait from Dreamland came a Dwarf, and he Could tell the cause, forsooth, and knew the cure. Methought he fronted me with peering look, In every heart (quoth he) since Adam's sin, But she, whose aspect I find imaged here, Of pleasure only will to all dispense, Choked or turn'd inward; but still issue thence As on the driving cloud the shiny bow, As though the spirits of all lovely flowers, Ev'n so, Eliza! on that face of thine, On that benignant face, whose look alone (The soul's translucence through her chrystal shrine!) Has power to soothe all anguish but thine own. A Beauty hovers still, and ne'er takes wing Who then needs wonder, if (no outlet found And in wild flashes shoots from heart to brain? Sleep, and the Dwarf with that unsteady gleam, Till audibly at length I cried, as though In every look a barbed arrow send, HALLORAN THE PEDLAR. AN IRISH STORY. By the writer of the " Diary of an Ennuyée." "IT grieves me," said an eminent poet once to me, "it grieves and humbles me to reflect how much our moral nature is in the power of circumstances. Our best faculties would remain unknown even to ourselves did not the influences of external excitement call them forth like animalculæ, which lie torpid till wakened into life by the transient sunbeam.” This is generally true. How many walk through the beaten paths of every day life, who but for the novelist's page would never weep or wonder; and who would know nothing of the passions but as they are represented in some tragedy or stage piece? not that they are incapable of high resolve and energy; but because the finer qualities have never been called forth by imperious circumstances; for while the wheels of existence roll smoothly along, the soul will continue to slumber in her vehicle like a lazy traveller. |