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CXIX.

And didst thou not, thy breast to his replying,
Blend a celestial with a human heart;
And love, which dies as it was born, in sighing,
Share with immortal transports? could thine art
Make them indeed immortal, and impart
The purity of heaven to earthly joys,
Expel the venom and not blunt the dart-

The dull satiety which all destroys-
And root from out the soul the deadly weed which cloys?

CXX.

Alas! our young

affections run to waste,
Or water but the desert; whence arise
But weeds of dark luxuriance, tares of haste,
Rank at the core, though tempting to the eyes,
Flowers whose wild odours breathe but agonies,
And trees whose gums are poison; such the plants
Which spring beneath her steps as passion flies

O'er the world's wilderness, and vainly pants
For some celestial fruit forbidden to our wants.

CXXI.

Oh love! no habitant of earth thou art-
An unseen seraph, we believe in thee,
A faith whose martyrs are the broken heart,
But never yet

hath seen, nor e'er shall see
The naked eye, thy form, as it should be;
The mind hath made thee, as it peopled heaven,
Even with its own desiring phantasy,

And to a thought such shape and image given,
As haunts the unquench'd soul-parch'd-wearied-wrung-and riven.

CXVI.

The mosses of thy fountain still are sprinkled
With thine Elysian water-drops; the face
Of thy cave-guarded spring, with years unwrinkled,
Reflects the meek-eyed genius of the place,
Whose

green, wild margin now no more erase Art's works; nor must the delicate waters sleep, Prison'd in marble, bubbling from the base

Of the cleft statue, with a gentle leap The rill runs o'er, and round, fern, flowers, and ivy, creep

CXVII.

Fantastically tangled; the green hills
Are clothed with early blossoms, through the

grass
The quick-eyed lizard rustles, and the bills
Of summer-birds sing welcome as ye pass;
Flowers fresh in hue, and many in their class,
Implore the pausing step, and with their dyes
Dance in the soft breeze in a fairy mass,

The sweetness of the violet's deep blue eyes,
Kiss'd by the breath of heaven, seems colour'd by its skies.

CXVIII.
Here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover,
Egeria! thy all heavenly bosom beating
For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover;
The purple midnight veil'd that mystic meeting
With her most starry canopy, and seating
Thyself by thine adorer, what befel?
This cave was surely shaped out for the greeting

Of an enamour'd goddess, and the cell
Haunted by holy love—the earliest oracle!

CXIX.

And didst thou not, thy breast to his replying,
Blend a celestial with a human heart;
And love, which dies as it was born, in sighing,
Share with immortal transports? could thine art
Make them indeed immortal, and impart
The purity of heaven to earthly joys,
Expel the venom and not blunt the dart-

The dull satiety which all destroys-
And root from out the soul the deadly weed which cloys?

CXX.

Alas! our young

affections run to waste,
Or water but the desert; whence arise
But weeds of dark luxuriance, tares of baste,
Rank at the core, though tempting to the eyes,
Flowers whose wild odours breathe but agonies,
And trees whose gums are poison; such the plants
Which spring beneath her steps as passion flies

O'er the world's wilderness, and vainly pants
For some celestial fruit forbidden to our wants.

CXXI.

nor

Oh love! no habitant of earth thou art-
An unseen seraph, we believe in thee,
A faith whose martyrs are the broken heart,
But
never yet

hath
seen,

e'er shall see
The naked eye, thy form, as it should be;
The mind hath made thee, as it peopled heaven,
Even with its own desiring phantasy,

And to a thought such shape and image given,
As haunts the unquench'd soul-parch'd-wearied-wrung-and riven.

CXXII.

Of its own beauty is the mind diseased,
And fevers into false creation :—where,
Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized?
In him alone. Can nature show so fair?
Where are the charms and virtues which we dare
Conceive in boyhood and pursue as men,
The unreach'd paradise of our despair,

Which o'er-informs the pencil and the pen,
And
overpowers

the
page

where it would bloom again?

CXXIII.

Who loves, raves—’t is youth's frenzy—but the cure
Is bitterer still; as charm by charm unwinds
Which robed our idols, and we see too sure
Nor worth nor beauty dwells from out the mind's
Ideal shape of such; yet still it binds
The fatal spell, and still it draws us on,
Reaping the whirlwind from the oft-sown winds;

The stubborn heart, its alchemy begun,
Seems ever near the prize,—wealthiest when most undone.

CXXIV.

We wither from our youth, we gasp away-
Sick-sick; unfound the boon-unslaked the thirst,
Though to the last, in verge of our decay,
Some phantom lures, such as we sought at first-
But all too late,—so are we doubly curst.
Love, fame, ambition, avarice—’t is the same,
Each idle-and all ill—and none the worst-

For all are meteors with a different name,
And death the sable smoke where vanishes the flame.

CXXV.

Few-none—find what they love or could have loved,
Though accident, blind contact, and the strong
Necessity of loving, have removed
Antipathies—but to recur, ere long,
Envenom'd with irrevocable wrong;
And circumstance, that unspiritual god
And miscreator, makes and helps along

Our coming evils with a crutch-like rod,
Whose touch turns hope to dust,—the dust we all have trod.

CXXVI.

Our life is a false nature—'t is not in
The harmony of things,—this hard decree,
This uneradicable taint of sin,
This boundless upas, this all-blasting tree,
Whose root is earth, whose leaves and branches be
The skies which rain their plagues on men like dew-
Disease, death, bondage—all the woes we see-

And worse; the woes we see not—which throb through The immedicable soul, with heart-aches ever new.

CXXVII.

Yet let us ponder boldly-'t is a base 57
Abandonment of reason to resign
Our right of thought-our last and only place
Of refuge; this, at least, shall still be mine:
Though from our birth the faculty divine
Is chain'd and tortured-cabin'd, cribb’d, confined,
And bred in darkness, lest the truth should shine

Too brightly on the unprepared mind,
The beam pours in, for time and skill will couch the blind.

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