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I'll tell you why I say so, for 'tis just

One should not rail, without a decent cause : There was an Irish lady, to whose bust

I ne'er saw justice done, and yet she was A frequent model: and if e'er she must

Yield to stern Time and Nature's wrinkling laws, They will destroy a face which mortal thought Ne'er compass'd, nor less mortal chisel wrought. And such was she, the lady of the cave:

Her dress was very different from the Spanish, Simpler, and yet of colours not so grave;

For, as you know, the Spanish women banish Bright hues when out of doors, and yet, while wave

Around them (what I hope will never vanish)
The basquina and the mantilla, they
Seem at the same time mystical and gay.
But with our damsel this was not the case:

Her dress was many-colour'd, finely spun;
Her locks curl'd negligently round her face,

But through them gold and gems profusely shone ; Her girdle sparkled, and the richest lace

Flow'd in her veil, and many a precious stone Flash'd on her little hand; but what was shocking, Her small snow feet had slippers, but no stocking. The other female's dress was not unlike,

But of inferior materials ; she
Had not so many ornaments to strike,

Her hair had silver only, bound to be
Her dowry; and her veil, in form alike,

Was coarser; and her hair, though firm, less free; Her hair was thicker, but less long; her eyes As black, but quicker, and of smaller size.

HAIDEE WANDERING WITH JUAN. It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded

Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill, Which then seems as if the whole earth it bounded,

Circling all nature, hushed, and dim, and still,
With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded

On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill
Upon the other, and the rosy sky
With one star sparkling through it like an eye.
And thus they wandered forth, and hand in hand,

Over the shining pebbles and the shells,
Glided along the smooth and hardened sand,

And in the worn and wild receptacles Worked by the storms, yet worked as it were planned,

In hollow halls, with sparry roofs and cells, They turned to rest : and, each clasp'd by an arm, Yielded to the deep twilight's purple charm. They looked up to the sky, whose floating glow

Spread like a rosy ocean, vast and bright: They gazed upon the glittering sea below,

Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight; They heard the waves' splash, and the wind so low,

And saw each other's dark eyes darting light
Into each other—and, beholding this,
Their lips drew near, and clung into a kiss.

HAIDEE'S DREAM. Juan and Haidee gazed upon each other

With swimming looks of speechless tenderness, Which mixed all feelings, friend, child, lover, brother,

All that the best can mingle and express
When two pure hearts are pour'd in one another,

And love too much, and yet can not love less;

But almost sanctify the sweet excess
By the immortal wish and power to bless.
Mix'd in each other's arms, and heart in heart,

Why did they not then die ?_they had lived too long Should an hour come to bid them breathe apart;

Years could but bring them cruel things or wrong: The world was not for them, nor the world's art

For beings passionate as Sappho's song;
Love was born with them, in them, so intense,
It was their very spirit-not a sense.
They should have lived together deep in woods,

Unseen as sings the nightingale ; they were
Unfit to mix in these thick solitudes

Called social, where all vice and hatred are ;
How lonely every freeborn creature broods !

The sweetest song-birds nestle in a pair;
The eagle soars alone-the gull and crow
Flock o'er the carrion, just as mortals do.
Now pillow'd cheek to cheek, in loving sleep,

Haidee and Juan their siesta took,
A gentle slumber, but it was not deep,

For ever and anon a something shook
Juan, and shuddering o'er his frame would creep;

And Haidee's sweet lips murmur'd like a brook
A wordless music, and her face so fair
Stirred with her dream as rose-leaves with the air :
Or as the stirring of a deep clear stream

Within an Alpine hollow, when the wind
Walks over it, was she shaken by the dream,

The mystical usurper of the mind
O'erpowering us to be whate'er may seem

Good to the soul which we no more can bind;

Strange state of being ! (for 'tis still to be)
Senseless to feel, and with seal'd eyes to see.
She dream'd of being alone on the sea-shore,

Chain'd to a rock ; she knew not how, but stir
She could not from the spot, and the loud roar

Grew, and each wave rose roughly, threatening her ; And o'er her upper lip they seem'd to pour,

Until she sobbed for breath, and soon they were Foaming o'er her lone head, so fierce and high Each broke to drown her, yet she could not die. Anon—she was released, and then she strayed

O'er the sharp shingles with her bleeding feet, And stumbled almost every step she made;

And something roll'd before her in a sheet, Which she must still pursue, howe'er afraid ;

'Twas white and indistinct, nor stopped to meet Her glance nor grasp, for still she gazed and grasp'd, And ran, but it escaped her as she clasp'd. The dream changed; in a cave she stood, its walls Were hung with marble icicles : the work

water fretted halls. Of ages on its water-fretted halls,

Plurk ; Where waves might wash, and seals might breed and Her hair was dripping, and the very balls

Of her black eyes seem'd turn'd to tears, and murk The sharp rocks look'd below each drop they caught, Which froze to marble as it fell, she thought. And wet, and cold, and lifeless at her feet,

Pale as the foam that frothed on his dead brow, Which she essayed in vain to clear, (how sweet

Were once her cares, how idle seem'd they now!) Lay Juan, nor could aught renew the beat

Of his quench'd heart; and the sea dirges low

Rang in her sad ears like a mermaid's song,
And that brief dream appear'd a life too long.
And gazing on the dead, she thought his face

Faded, or alter'd into something new
Like to her father's features, till each trace

More like and like to Lambro's aspect grew With all his keen worn look and Grecian grace;

And starting, she awoke, and what to view ? Oh! Powers of Heaven! what dark eye meets she 'Tis_'tis her father's fix'd upon the pair ! [there?

THE DEATH OF HAIDEE. I leave Don Juan, for the present-safe

Not sound, poor fellow, but severely wounded ; Yet could his corporal pangs amount to half

Of those with which his Haidee's bosom bounded ! She was not one to weep, and rave, and chafe,

And then give way, subdued because surrounded ; Her mother was a Moorish maid, from Fez, Where all is Eden, or a wilderness. There the large olive rains its amber store

In marble founts; there grain, and flower, and fruit Gush from the earth until the land runs o'er ;

But there too many a poison-tree has root,
And midnight listens to the lion's roar,

And long, long deserts scorch the camel's foot,
Or heaving whelm the helpless caravan,
And as the soil is, so the heart of man,
Afric is all the sun's, and as her earth

Her human clay is kindled; full of power
For good or evil, burning from its birth,

The Moorish blood partakes the planet's hour,

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