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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 ?

СХХ.
Alas ! our young affections run to waste ,
Or water but the desart ; whence arise
But weeds of dark luxuriance, tares of haste,
Rank at the core , though tempting to the eyes,
Flowers whose 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 has 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 wrungand riven.

CXXI. . . Of its own beauty is the mind diseased, oliit And fevers into false creation :-where, '" Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized ? In him alone. Can Nature shew so fair? Cinsi si Where are the charms and virtues which we dare . .5. Conceive in boyhood and pursue as men, " is The unreach'd Paradise of our despair, il viii. Which o'er-informs the pencil and the pen, bizi And overpowers the page, where it would bloom again?: .:

CXXIII.
Who loves , raves--'tis youth's frenzy—but the cure ,
Is bitterer still; as charm by charm unwinds in 11
Which robed our idols, and we see too sure
Nor worth nor beauty dwells from out the mind': :
Ideal shape of such , yet still it hinds
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 andone,

: CXXIV. We wither from our youth , we gasp away , i 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. ru!! ; Love , fame, ambition, avarice--'tis 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. . .. ,6, Few-none-find what they love or could have loved,.....! Though accident, blind contact, and the stronges, i Necessity of loying, have removed Antipathies—but to recur, ere long, Envenomed with irrevocable wrong; . . And Gircumstance, that unspiritual god .. , And miscrealor, makes and helps along

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

CXX VI.
Our life is a false nature'tis not in
The harmony of things ,--this hard decree,
This un-eradicable 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-'i i '
And worse, the woes we see not--which throb througla
The immedicable soul, with heart-aches ever new.

CXXVII.
Yet let us ponder boldly—'tis a base 53
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'

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

CXXVIII. Ni ! Arches on arches ! as it were that Rome. ... . . Collecting the chief trophies of her line,

i Would build up all her triumphs in one dome, i cili Her Coliseum stands; the moonbeams shine As 'twere its natural torches, for divine Should be the light which streams here, to illume i This long-explored but still exhaustless mind :: ?... ? Of contemplation; and the azure gloom i s Of an Italian night , where the deep skies assume .'.'

CXXIX. . ... . Hues which have words, and speak to ye of heaven, Floats o'er this vast and wondrous monument,

ren,

And shadows forth its glory. There is given
Unto the things of earth , which time hath bent,
A spirit's feeling , and where he hath leant
His hand, but broke his scythe , there is a power
And magic in the ruined battlement,

For which the palace of the present hour
Must yield its pomp, and wait till ages are its dower.

CXXX
Oh Time ! the beautifier of the dead ,
Adorner of the ruin , comforter
And only healer when the heart hath bled
Time! the corrector where our judgments err,
The test of truth, love, --sole philosopher,
For all beside are sophists, from thy thrift,
Which never loses though it doth defer

Time, the avenger! unto thee I lift
My hands, and eyes, and heart, and crave of thee a gift :

CXXXI.
'Amidst this wreck, where thou hast made a shrine
And temple more divinely desolate,
Among thy mightier offerings here are mine,
Ruins of years—though few, yet full of fate :-
If thou hast ever seen me too elate ,
Hear me not ; but if calmly I have borne
Good, and reserved my pride against the hate
Which shall not whelm me, let me not have worn
This iron in my soul in vain--shall they not mourn?

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